Page 17 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
Now that Theo could see more clearly, it was obvious his brother had not only drunk his own weight in alcohol but had also taken a walk through somewhere muddy and fallen flat on his face. The bedding would need to be washed.
“You’re always sad,” Nicholas said, looking as lost as a motherless puppy. “I wanted to help. You were so happy when you fell in love with Elizabeth. I thought if I could find someone else, then you’d be happy again. The timing on the balcony was… unfortunate. I didn’t realize we were alone until it was too late. The young lady…. She seemed so promising.”
Ah, so he had been too busy congratulating himself to pay attention to their surroundings. How typical of Nicholas. Theo hated to think what kind of debutante his brother might have found so impressive. Most likely she had either been the type to use her wiles—and enjoy doing so—or someone with no regard for society’s strictures.
Theo crossed to the nightstand and picked up the tall glass of water he always kept there overnight. He passed it to Nicholas. “Drink. All of it.”
As Nicholas gulped down the water like a man stranded in the desert, Theo rang for a maid. He requested a cup of tea and more water and then paced the length of the room until the maid returned with them. He refilled Nicholas’s glass, gestured for him to drink it, and fixed himself a cup of tea.
Nicholas’s glazed eyes had cleared slightly, and his pupils were more reactive as he focused on Theo.
He was sobering up. Good.
“So, tell me if I have this right.” Theo wished he had a sweet treat to go along with his tea. He wasn’t usually a fan of cake or biscuits, but a little sugar would definitely improve his current mood. “Somewhere out there in London is a young lady whose name you don’t know who might be ruined unless I marry her. Does that sum it up?”
Nicholas’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes. But I should be the one to marry her. I can tell everyone that I lied and that I was the one there last night. If we attend a large social event side-by-side so people can see how similar we look, they might believe it and then she can marry me, not you. I don’t wish to marry but I’ll do it because this was my mistake and you shouldn’t have to pay for it.”
“Or they might not,” Theo pointed out. “They could think you’re sacrificing yourself at the matrimonial altar to save me. And who do you think her parents are going to push for her to marry? A second son or a titled peer?”
Nicholas withered.
“That’s not even taking into account how furious Mother would be.” If they made a spectacle of themselves, she’d react as though the world was ending because so much of her existence hinged on having the admiration of her peers.
“Mother would get over it.”
Theo snorted and buried his face in his hands. Perhaps she would, but she’d make them regret their actions first. “Christ, Nicholas. You knew I never wanted to remarry.”
“It was an accident.” Nicholas’s misery was evident in the slump of his shoulders and the redness of his eyes, but the fact that he felt guilty didn’t make this all better.
“It’s always an accident with you.” Perhaps that wasn’t entirely fair, but Theo wasn’t feeling charitable right now.
“I’m willing to marry her,” Nicholas said earnestly. “I’ll fix this.”
Theo sighed. “Let’s not rush into anything.”
He needed to cool his thoughts. As angry as he was, he wouldn’t be coming up with a solution to their predicament anytime soon. That in mind, he grabbed the box containing his wraps and stalked toward the door.
Nicholas scrambled off the bed and stumbled toward him, nearly tripping but catching himself before he hit the floor. “Don’t leave. We can make this better, right? Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
Theo backed away. “I need time alone, or I might say or do something I regret.”
Nicholas’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry, brother. I’m here when you need me.”
Theo nodded once, briskly, and shut the door behind himself, leaving Nicholas to sleep off his overindulgence while he went to the boxing room to work out his frustration.
He used one of the candles in the corridor to light the ones in the boxing room, then sat on a sturdy wooden stool in the corner while he opened the wrap box and went through the familiar, reassuring motions of securing the fabric in place across his knuckles and around his wrists.
Once the wraps were in place, he began by throwing punches that didn’t hit the bag. His mind was still slightly dulled from sleep, and he didn’t want to jar himself into the moment too roughly. Instead, he worked up to it, gradually adding more weight behind his strikes as his body started to awaken and his nerves came to life.
As soon as he was in the right mindset, he beat the bag until his fists throbbed and his breaths came in heaves.
Fuck this goddamn morning.
He didn’t want to deal with his mother’s out-of-control anxiety over society’s opinion of her—which would be inevitable if Nicholas jumped headfirst into this scandal he’d inadvertently created—but he also didn’t want a wife.
He didn’t want to watch another woman he cared about wither away, growing more and more distant with every day that passed.
He didn’t want to visit his wife’s bedchamber only to find her sobbing quietly because her monthly flow had arrived again.
