Page 59 of My Hellion, My Heart
“Then what is your concern?”
“You do not love her.” The brief, bold statement threw him. He blinked his surprise as she went on. “There is friendship between you, certainly, and caring, but beyond that there is no passion. No love.” Lady Langlevit pressed his hands between hers, and Henry couldn’t help noticing how like parchment her skin had become. He perched on the bench beside her.
“It is my duty to marry, not pursue such frivolous notions.”
“There is more to life than duty, and it saddens me to think you view it as such.” She lifted a veined palm to stroke his cheek. “Oh, my darling boy, you’ve seen so much pain. If only you could leave the past where it belongs and allow yourself the chance to truly live. Happiness is right in front of you—you only need to open your eyes and reach for it.”
Henry stood stock-still. Had all the women in his life suddenly gone mad?
First Rose, then Irina, and now, his own mother.
“Iamhappy,” he insisted, standing. Forcing a smile to his face and quelling his irritation, Henry kissed her hands and called for the maids waiting beyond the door. “Now you must excuse me, I have an engagement. I’ll see you later. I will be dining at the residence tonight.”
He felt her eyes on him as he left the room, but thankfully she did not press the issue.
“Carlton, have one of the stableboys ready my horse at once,” he said to the butler, tugging on the riding gloves and jacket that Marbury had brought downstairs. “The black.”
Carlton bowed. “Of course, my lord.”
It wasn’t long before North rode up the driveway, and Henry joined him, pulling himself up onto the sleek, prancing four-year-old Orlov, a gift from the Russian tsar after Count Volkonsky’s arrest. The stallion seemed restless, too, but Henry kept him under firm rein as they rode toward the lane. Cerus was temperamental at the best of times.
As the fresh country breeze hit his face, Henry felt his muscles relax. It was good to get out of the house. “How is Lady Northridge?” he asked. “Not too tired, I hope.”
North shook his head, his big gray Andalusian easily keeping pace with Cerus, and grinned. “She is fine, but has yet to awaken.”
“Last evening was entertaining,” North commented a few moments later. “Remi was in fine form.”
“If you call that form,” Henry said, recalling the man’s tryst with one of Hawk’s servants with distaste. “How much do you know of him?”
“Not much, other than he was a childhood family friend of theirs. A distant cousin. Lana mentioned something about his father being particularly exacting when he was a young boy. He spent considerable time at Volkonsky Palace in his younger years before he ran away.”
“Ran away?”
“To Moscow, I believe,” North said, his brow crinkling as he tried to remember details.
Henry hesitated, wondering how to delicately ask the question about the man’s proclivities, but in the end he didn’t have to ask at all. North explained.
“Something about a flagrant affair with a well-known prince. Apparently Count Remisov did not approve of his son fraternizing with other men.”
Henry frowned. “Remisov, did you say?”
“His family name. Maxim Remisov.”
That might explain why Henry’s colleagues hadn’t been able to find any information on a Lord Max Remi from St. Petersburg, despite what seemed like an obvious similarity in the names.
North continued. “He and Irina reconnected in Paris.” He pursed his lips. “Irina is headstrong enough as it is without any of his encouragement. My wife is not happy with his influence.”
Neither am I, Henry thought grimly. “I find him offensive,” he said.
North nodded his agreement. “What’s not to like? He’s young, arrogant, and angry. Much like we were at his age.”
“I suffered wounds from a hellish war. You had an illegitimate daughter. Exactly what does our entitled young lord have to be angry about?”
“Being disowned would be enough to make me damned angry.”
Henry’s brain came to a reeling stop and then churned back into motion. He chewed on that tidbit of information. Lord Remisov had been disowned? Had the young lord now latched on to a young and wealthy patron? That would be the obvious answer. But Irina had said that Max had wealth of his own. Henry trusted his instincts, but perhaps he was being too presumptuous because he simply disliked the man. He was well aware that his judgment became muddled when it came to Irina.
As the road widened they increased their pace, making further conversation impossible, and arrived in Horton in less than an hour. Henry wasn’t particularly looking to add new stock to his stables, but he’d agreed to accompany North, who was interested in purchasing a mare or two. Dismounting, they tethered their mounts to a nearby fence post.
