Page 2 of A Lady's Propitious Match
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Guilt wracked through Christopher.
He hated this, all of it.
He might have been just one person in an ocean of black clothing, he might have looked like he was just another grieving person in the crowd attending the funeral, but Christopher knew that he was different. He was not just another mourner, far from it.
He felt like he was to blame. For all of this.
If he had not been arguing with his father again, talking about his art another time, and making his father mad, then maybe there would not have been a heart attack. Perhaps his father would not have passed away. He had noticed the red face, he just did not know what it meant.
If he had taken a second to wonder, then everything might have been different.
That icy feeling in his veins, and the horrible feeling that his whole life was about to be changed forever in the worst way possible stuck with him, and he could not shake it off. He was starting to think that he would never be able to shake it off.
He wished that he could take it all back and change it. He wished that he could have said something kind during their last conversation. He wished that he had not been sarcastic…
But there was nothing that he could do to take it all back.
He was going to have to drown in these feelings forever.
It did not help that Graham was stepping up perfectly, just as was expected of him. Christopher was hidden in his shadow now, completely consumed with his brother’s new role. Graham was the perfect new Viscount, already showing that he was going to effortlessly meet all expectations, with their mother alreadyclinging proudly to his arm, looking up to him as if he were perfect, and just what she needed to get her through this terrible time.
A cold sense of hopelessness overcame Christopher. He had always felt inadequate, but not as much as he did right now. He could almost sense the crowd looking at him, seeing how unworthy he was. It was not a pleasant place to be.
This was why he preferred to hide in the shadows, not to be seen.
That was, of course, just another failure of his.
Not like being the center of attention like everyone else in his family did. Not to want the ton to stare at him as if he were a spectacle to be judged by everyone else depending on whether or not he was acting in a way that they deemed ‘appropriate’.
Was he always going to be a let down? Would he always yearn for the approval of people who would not give it? Who could not give it, because they were in a coffin being lowered in to the ground? His father was never going to approve of him, not now.
What on earth was he going to do with his life now?
That was the ultimate question pressing down on his shoulders. What could he do? He knew that his role was to support Graham in all of his endeavours, just as his father had told him over and over again. But Graham did not look like he needed help. Certainly not from Christopher anyway. He had everything firmly in hand, as customary.
Graham had always looked down on Christopher, almost as much as their father. He hated his art just as much, and thought of it as a silly hobby, a waste of time. If Christopher did decide to dedicate his life to a man who did not even want him, then he would have to put his creative side to rest forever.
It might finally make his father proud, but it would not make him happy.
That would not be a way to let go of these wounds that cut deep within him. That would never leave him fulfilled. Only art would. But how could he do that and become independent as well? Because this was something he would certainly have to do alone.
He balled his fists up by his side, painful emotion surging through him as he tried to work out the plan for his life. The only thought that came to mind was the idea of teaching his art, tutoring young people who had a passion just like him, from noble families who would be willing to pay for his services. He had done it a couple of times in the past, and it had been more rewarding than he assumed it might be.
Maybe that would not be making money from his art in the way that his father meant, by selling pieces to collectors all over the world, and making thousands from it, but it would be something.
As he watched Graham greeting the crowds as if this was a party to celebrate his new role in life, determination surged through him. He was going to have to make a life for himself. He had no choice but to go his own way. No matter what it took.
