Chapter 6
Six
“Ithought I might find here you,” spoke a familiar voice from over Ronan’s shoulder. “Drowning his sorrows. Drinking away his misery. Hoping the answers to his woes might be found at the bottom of his glass, and so on. Choose your cliché.”
Ronan’s lip curled into a sneer as he took a long sip from his mug of ale. He did not turn to see who had spoken, as he had no need. He would know that voice anywhere.
“I wasn’t exactly hiding,” he muttered as the speaker fell into the seat across from him. “Now I’m wondering if I should have done.”
His Grace, Sebastian Vale, the Duke of Eastmoor, was perhaps Ronan’s closest friend…
if such a term could be used by two men who hardly saw or spoke to one another.
He was another of the Wicked Dukes, who’d since moved on from such devious titles once he’d fallen in love, changed his personality entirely because of it, and no longer had time for men like Ronan.
Not that Ronan begrudged him of the fact. As Ronan had long since come to learn about himself, he did better on his own. Preferred it even. If not for his own sake, for that of others.
“As opposed to your usual modus operandi?” Sebastian snorted.
He was classically handsome, and aware of it, constantly taken with a look about him as if he just expected people to do as he asked and be grateful they were given the chance.
But that was just because they so often did. “Isn’t hiding what you do best?”
“Is it hiding if nobody looks for you?” Another mouthful of ale.
“Yet here you sit…” Sebastian looked over the near-empty tavern, one that had perhaps five other drunks spread across the interior. “In the exact same seat that you always do, which was once reserved for men who were even worse company than you are.” His silver-eyes glimmered, the meaning apparent.
“I don’t know what you mean…” Ronan shifted uncomfortably.
“I think you do,” Sebastian grinned. “But I won’t push. I’d hate for your fist to find its way into my jaw… by accident, I am sure.”
“It won’t be an accident if you continue to push,” Ronan growled, to which his dear friend cackled.
As to what Sebastian was suggesting? A coincidence and nothing more…. Even if the arrogant sort that he is would never believe it.
This tavern just so happened to be the same one where the Wicked Dukes used to meet at on a monthly basis. And this table just so happened to be the same one where they would sit and drink and wallow in pity as they judged the world around them.
That was years ago now, and Ronan couldn’t remember the last time all four of them had met together.
Sebastian seemed to think that Ronan had chosen this place to come and drink on purpose.
As if he wanted to be found or was hoping one of them might come and see him.
As if he needed such a thing as that. Which was ridiculous, and damn insulting.
Ronan of all people didn’t covet companionship or company, and he wasn’t about to start now.
“What are you doing here?” Ronan grumbled, wanting to change the subject.
“I think you know.”
“I doubt it’s because you like to look at me.”
Sebastian laughed. “Come now, Ronan. Did you really think that your misdeeds last evening could escape my sharp ears? And if not mine, that of my dear wife. She gossips as if her life depends on it.”
Ronan groaned and took a final sip of his ale, pushing it away. Then he sought the attention of the bartender, indicating for another. “Say what you came to say.”
“First thing is, I know what people are saying isn’t true. I would sooner believe that you sprouted wings and started to fly. Anything other than you being caught entwined around a young lady in such a fashion that those who found you could not tell where you started and she ended.”
“Of course I wasn’t!” Ronan snapped.
“Which means there has been a terrible misunderstanding,” Sebastian agreed.
“Not that it matters, as we all know…” He raised an eyebrow at Ronan, his expression finally turning from humorous to serious.
“What exactly are you going to do? I know what you should do, but what you, the Duke of Westvale are going to do is a different matter entirely.”
His friend knew the answer to the question, of course.
Sebastian wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.
They spoke rarely. Saw each other even less than that.
But that he was here, had come to see Ronan at one of his worst hours, was a reminder he needed that the entire world hadn’t abandoned him as he had abandoned it.
A lesson Ronan might do well to remember…
But I won’t. I know better than to let others in by now. Even a friend like Sebastian would be better off without me.
“What do you think?” Ronan grumbled just as a mug appeared before him.
He snatched it and took a large sip. “I proposed to Miss Carstone earlier today, and the two of us are set to wed at once.” Another mouthful.
“It was the only thing I could do. It’s not right that her reputation…
what?” he barked at Sebastian. “What’s that look for? ”
Sebastian was beaming at him, a glimmer in his eyes that might suggest he’d just heard the most wonderful news. “Ronan…” Then, he laughed. “Who would have guessed! The Duke of Westvale, finally married and—”
“This isn’t a matter to celebrate!”
“Not yet,” Sebastian agreed. “But things change. People change—look at me! Look at Alaric and Cassian. Were we not in the same situation as you? Were we not equally as sorrowful and filled with dread at the thought of marrying?”
Ronan snorted. “I am not you, or Alaric, or Cassian.”
“Not yet,” Sebastian said with a wink.
Ronan scowled at his friend, refusing to take the bait.
There was a good reason that Ronan was so dedicated to living alone, never wanting to fall in love and certainly not wanting to get married.
It stemmed from his upbringing, a father who was as cold and cruel as he was distant, a mother who abandoned him because of it.
That’s all love was in his eyes—an excuse to abandon someone and hurt them—and Ronan never wanted anything to do with it.
And that belief wasn’t about to change because a few of his friends were weak and happy to bend and then break in the face of a pretty woman. Their issues were not his, and his were infinitely worse than anything they could dream about.
“I won’t say anything more,” Sebastian promised, holding out his palms as if to surrender. “I just want you to promise me that you won’t approach this marriage with your usual gloom. Be open, Ronan. You never know what will happen.”
“I know better than most.”
Sebastian sighed. “And this Miss Carstone? I never had the pleasure, but is she as people say?”
Surprisingly, that turned Ronan rigid. A reaction not expected upon hearing disparaging words spoken about his wife, but one that came upon him nonetheless. “What do you mean?” he asked with a warning glare at his friend.
“Nothing too sinister,” Sebastian assured him.
“But surely you have heard what people say of her. And even if half of it is true…” He blew through his lips.
“That she ran off with some farmer or worker or what have you. Has spent the last four years roaming the countryside doing…” He grimaced. “Best that we not go there.”
“And where are you trying to go, exactly?”
“She is trouble, is my meaning.” Sebastian made sure to be looking across the table, worry in his voice and painted in his eyes. “I would hate to see you taken advantage of or… or for something bad to happen.”
“Bad? Like being forced to marry a woman I hardly know. Or any woman, for that matter.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
Ronan curled his lips in dismissal and took a long sip of his ale as he considered what Sebastain was saying. Like his friend, Ronan had heard what was said about Miss Carstone, and he knew too that there was likely more to those stories than what was told.
Funny that few of the stories mention an adopted child. Or any child for that matter. Likely done so on purpose, because if I had known…
No, it wouldn’t have made any difference.
What happened was the fault of neither of them, but they were left to deal with the consequences that happened in this world.
And what did Ronan care about a child anyway?
It was not as if he was expected to care for and love the woman.
This would be a marriage of convenience and nothing more.
“I appreciate your concern, friend, but it is unnecessary,” Ronan grumbled. “Miss Carstone’s past is exactly where it belongs and bothers me little.”
“But—”
“I am not doing this because I want to. And nothing will change that. I am doing this out of duty, of which Miss. Carstone is aware, just as she is also aware of what that means.”
He raised a warning eyebrow at his friend, meaning for this to be the final thing said on the matter. “Married in name only and despite what you might think, that isn’t going to change.”
Sebastian pushed his lips together and then sighed as if conceding the point. He turned and waved at the bartender, indicating for a drink to be brought to him.
“As you say,” Sebastain agreed finally. “I suppose a toast is out of the question.”
“You can. I won’t.”
Sebastian laughed and fell back in his seat, stretching out. He fixed Ronan with a devilish smirk and then a shake of the head. “Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps not everyone has it in them to change.”
“And that, Sebastian, is the first smart thing you’ve said since sitting down.”
Some people changed, but those people weren’t Ronan Ward, the Duke of Westvale. Sometimes, he wished that he could change his ways, that it might make things easier. But easy… no, that was never his way. He was who he was, and had long since learned to live with it.
Now, much to her own detriment, Miss. Carstone would have to live with it too. And for that, he was truly sorry.