Chapter 27 #2
Victor straightened immediately. “I was merely looking for… a document.” Elizabeth’s brows lifted in clear disbelief. “In Charlotte’s room?”
Hannah quietly excused herself and disappeared down the corridor with impressive speed. Victor almost envied her escape. Elizabeth stepped slowly into the chamber and smiled sadly at the untouched bed.
“The house feels quieter without her,” she said.
Victor looked away stiffly. “It is only for a few days.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “And yet you look as though someone has died.”
Victor stiffened hard at the words.
His grandmother immediately regretted it. “Oh darling, I did not mean.”
“It is fine,” Victor interrupted quietly.
Elizabeth moved closer and rested a fragile hand upon his arm. “You love her very much.” Victor nearly laughed at the simplicity with which she said it. “There is no shame in that.”
Love.
The word twisted unpleasantly in his chest.
Victor looked toward the window before speaking again. “Attachment only leads to grief.” Victor swallowed tightly. “And then what remains?”
“Oh, Victor.” She squeezed his arm carefully. “That is not a reason to avoid loving people,” Victor said nothing. “Loss hurts because love existed in the first place.”
He turned away sharply before she could see too much in his face. How long before Elizabeth was gone too? How long before the manor became empty once more and silence swallowed him whole again? He had survived his parents’ deaths only by hardening himself against everyone else afterward.
Charlotte has somehow undone years of that work without even trying.
Victor suddenly felt trapped inside the room. “I am going into town,” he announced abruptly.
Elizabeth sighed knowingly behind him.
“I have business to attend.”
She patted his arm again. “Of course you do.”
As he strode downstairs moments later, he already hated himself for the guilt clawing at his chest. His grandmother was trying so hard to make him happy. Charlotte was trying too. Yet every step closer to loving them felt like stepping toward disaster.
Mr. Baxter met him in the foyer. “Shall I have your horse prepared, Your Grace?”
Victor grabbed his gloves from the entry table. “Immediately.”
Baxter bowed. “At once, Your Grace.”
The ride into London did little to settle his thoughts. By the time Victor arrived at Morgan Harding’s townhouse, his mood had only worsened. A servant admitted him promptly, and within moments, Morgan appeared in the drawing room grinning like a delighted fox.
“Well now,” Morgan drawled. “Either society has collapsed or married life bores you already.”
Victor tossed his gloves onto a chair. “I require diversion.”
Morgan lit up immediately. “Ah, excellent. I knew marriage would not tame you entirely.”
Victor already regretted coming.
Morgan poured him a drink before dropping carelessly into an armchair. “So,” he said brightly, “cards, whisky, or women?”
Victor took the glass with a grim expression. “None appeal presently.”
Morgan stared at him in theatrical horror. “Good God, it is worse than I feared.”
Victor glared. “Do stop behaving like an idiot.”
Morgan grinned. “Impossible.”
Victor drank deeply before speaking again. “Charlotte has gone to stay with her family.”
Morgan blinked once. “And you have come to me looking like a widower because your wife visited relatives?”
Victor hated how ridiculous it sounded aloud.
Morgan leaned forward with poorly concealed delight. “You miss her.”
Victor scowled immediately. “Do not start.”
Morgan laughed outright.
“Victor, you look one melancholy poem away from throwing yourself into the Thames.”
“I merely needed distraction,” Victor muttered.
Morgan snapped his fingers immediately. “Then Vauxhall it is.”
Victor grimaced. “I am not in the mood.”
Morgan stood anyway. “Which is precisely why you must go.”
A couple of hours later, they entered Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens beneath glowing lanterns and roaring conversation.
Music drifted through the crowded pathways while elegantly dressed women laughed behind painted fans.
Couples wandered arm in arm beneath illuminated trees, and the scent of wine, smoke, and sweet pastries filled the early evening air.
Ordinarily, the lively chaos would have suited Victor perfectly.
Tonight, it only exhausted him.
Morgan seemed oblivious to his mood as he guided them toward a crowded table near the musicians.
“There,” he declared cheerfully. “Enough noise and vice to restore any man’s spirit.”
Victor sat heavily and immediately reached for the whisky. “Doubtful.”
Women noticed them almost instantly. Several recognised Victor and began drifting closer with practiced smiles and fluttering lashes. One blonde woman leaned close enough for her perfume to nearly suffocate him.
“Your Grace,” she purred. “It has been some time.”
Victor barely glanced at her. “Indeed.” The woman blinked at the cool dismissal.
Morgan nearly choked trying not to laugh. “You wound the poor creature, Victor.”
Another woman approached soon after, smiling coyly as she touched Victor’s sleeve. “Would you care to dance?”
Victor removed her hand without ceremony. “No.” She stared at him in confusion before retreating quickly.
Morgan watched the exchange with fascination. “You truly are ruined.”
Victor downed another drink. “Be quiet.”
Morgan leaned back laughing. “You used to adore this place…and the pretty things in it.”
Victor looked around the gardens with growing irritation. Music played. Women laughed. Men drank themselves witless beneath glowing lanterns. Yet none of it stirred anything inside him anymore.
Because none of it is Charlotte.
He wanted her sharp wit and warm smile. He wanted the way she blushed when he teased her and argued when he provoked her. He wanted her curled beside him in bed, laughing softly against his shoulder.
Victor shut his eyes briefly in frustration.
“I’ve had enough of your ridiculous melancholy. What troubles you truly?” Morgan asked quietly now, all humor fading.
Victor stared down into his whisky. “I only want her.”
Morgan looked surprised by the honesty. “And you have her, so what is the problem?”
Victor’s jaw clenched. “Children.”
Morgan frowned. “What about them?”
Victor looked away toward the crowded gardens. “She wants to have some, but having children is out of the question. I cannot love them because…” He stopped himself abruptly.
Morgan’s expression shifted slowly with understanding.
Victor swallowed harshly. “Everyone I care for disappears eventually.”
Morgan was silent for a moment. “You blame yourself still.”
Victor gave no answer, which was answer enough.
For once, Morgan did not joke.
Instead, he leaned back quietly and said, “You cannot punish yourself forever, Victor.”
Victor laughed bitterly under his breath. “Watch me.”
Morgan shook his head slowly. “Charlotte loves you, you fool. You have a chance for true happiness, and all she asks in return is to have a family.”
Victor stared down at his drink. The thought should have comforted him. Instead…
it terrifies me completely.