Page 63 of Lady of Fortune
Eddie closed his eyes for a moment. This, of course, was the last person in the entire world he felt like conversing with at the moment. In fact, he would rather have stood in front of a stampeding herd of horses than speak with the Viscount Dorchester — his father by blood. If this was what the man wanted, however, then Eddie had no qualms in telling Dorchester just exactly what he thought of him.
"What should lead me to think I would not be?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the door. "I am your son, after all. Should I not be welcomed with opened arms?"
The Viscount snorted. "A bastard can hardly be called a son."
Eddie went rigid, but he refused to show the man how much his words had hurt.
"That's fine with me," he replied with the wave of a hand. "For I no more consider you my father than you feel that I am your son. My father was Adam Francis. He was a good, honest man — one of the best. He raised me to be the man I am today, which I thank him for. I am grateful for him, and I feel sorry for your own children, that they must call you Father."
Eddie heard the anger in his own voice, rising ever so slightly in volume as he spoke, and he took a breath in an attempt to calm himself. He had no wish to allow Lord Dorchester to know that he had the ability to cause him to react as he did.
The Viscount smirked.
"So you are happy with being the son of a groom when you could be the son of a lord? If I had claimed you, then perhaps you would now have the ability to court the girl you are enamored with — the lady, the daughter of an earl — the one you have been watching all night. But a groom's son, well, that is another story, is it not? Her parents may be softhearted, but they are no fools. Hopefully, you realize that."
Eddie narrowed his eyes at the Viscount. The worst part of all he said was that his words were true. As glad as Eddie was for the life he had, the upbringing he was privileged to have enjoyed, as the legitimate son of a Viscount, he would certainly be in a much better position to marry a woman such as Julia. He wasn’t overly pleased to hear that Dorchester had picked up on his feelings toward her.
But he wouldn't regret what he had. He loved Adam Francis, the man he considered his true father, with all of his being. This man, the Viscount, had gotten his mother pregnant and left her. Eddie had no desire to have such a sire, and he hoped with all his soul that none of the man’s character pervaded Eddie's own being.
"You can say whatever you want," Eddie said, pushing back away from the door and placing his hand back on the handle. "Your words will never change how I feel. I want nothing to do with you — I never have, and never will. There is one thing you are correct about — I never should have come here tonight. I have no desire to ever be named in the same breath as you. All I ask of you is that you renounce any claims upon me as my father. Do not spread the rumor, do not use it to try to discredit me. I will never come here asking you for anything. All I wish is for you to leave me alone — as you did my mother, so many years ago.”
The Viscount stared at him, his eyes dark and beady, his lips pursed together. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words emerged. He stood there for a moment, and Eddie felt a slight bit of satisfaction course through him that he had the last word. As he let himself out he heard a female voice come into the foyer, asking, "Harrison? Whatever is going on here?" and all Eddie did was close the door behind him, leaving the Viscount and his wife, Julia and her parents, the Duke, and the entire world of thetonbehind him.
* * *
Eddie'sinitial thought was to go back to his room and try to find sleep, but then he recalled that his room was within Lord Torrington's stables, and he currently had no desire to go back there, to be reminded of all he had lost by riding the blasted man's horses. So instead, his feet took him to the pub, where, being a man who always enjoyed the company of friends, he figured he could, at the very least, find a way to take his mind off of all that happened.
"Eddie!" Will's voice called out the moment Eddie stepped through the door, and he looked around to find his friend.
Will was at a back table, surrounded by other jockeys who were either drowning their sorrows or celebrating a well-run race. When Eddie sat amongst them, Will slapped him on the back. "Have one on me, friend, you look like you need it."
From his seat next to Eddie, Will leaned in, lowering his voice now.
"I heard what happened with Valiant. I'm sorry, Ed, truly I am. But you're a good rider, an excellent jockey, and your reputation for being a clean rider will ensure that you'll find work again. I wouldn't worry too much."
Eddie nodded, wishing it were that easy. But now he had powerful members of the nobility who may not be keen to see his name on future race cards. How he would navigate that issue, he had no idea.
Will looked at him more closely.
"Is that all that's the matter? I know it wasn't the best of days, but typically you don't let much get you down, and you look as though you've lost everything in the world."
Eddie looked up at Will, knowing his expression would likely tell Will all he needed to know.
"It's Julia," he said with a sigh, and Will tipped his head back slightly.
"Ah," he said with a knowing nod. "I thought that might be the case. Nothing gets a man down as love problems do."
Eddie took the glass of ale the barmaid brought over, noticing as he took it that she was the same girl who had served him last time. It was hard to ignore her, as once again she leaned over far enough that he couldn't miss any of her. When she straightened, she gave him a wink before she continued on.
If only it was that easy — if he could fall in love with a girl like her, who would be happy with the life he could offer her, whether he was a jockey or a groom or anything in between. But sadly that, of course, was not the case.
Eddie looked down in the depths of the amber liquid before tipping back the glass and taking a healthy swallow.
“If only Julia was just Julia," he said, continuing to stare down, now at the scarred tabletop. Someone had etched a pair of initials into the wood a heart encircling them. How romantic, he thought. Julia would love to see it. “As you know, she is Lady Julia Stone, daughter of Lord St. Albans."
When Will didn't respond, Eddie looked up to gauge his reaction. “Don’t you see the issue?”
Will shrugged one shoulder. “Does she want you anyway?”
