Page 37 of The Moonstone Marquess
“Forever. I cannot go back to what I was. Wallowing, rude to my loved ones. Inconsolable, although I wasn’t inconsolable so much as angry. I did not like what I saw in myself.”
“And now you are changed? Just like that?” She snapped her fingers in demonstration.
“The change has been coming on for a while now.”
“And what about Lord Crawford?”
“He has doubts about his ability to be a proper earl. I’ll talk him through it. I’ve already told him he can come to me for guidance whenever he feels the need. But this is all new to him as well, and his pain is still raw. He and I are not fully alike in what we went through, but there are many similarities.”
“As in wanting to toss the burden of running your estate onto your brother while you remained defiant and insufferable in your anger?”
“I was always competent enough to manage my holdings. I took over that chore from my brother as soon as I returned from battle. Yes, he helped me out in the months after I lost my arm, for I was still struggling with infections and delirious some of the time.”
She looked pained. “Oh…I’m sorry. I suppose I just assumed… I’m sorry.”
Of course, because she was too soft-hearted and knew her comment had hurt him.
“Taking over responsibility for my estate was never my problem. But you have no idea how it feels to lose an arm, Phoebe. Especially for a man like me. I cannot even button my falls without exertion. A three-year-old boy can dress himself or put on his shoes faster than I can mine. It is demeaning. Frustrating.”
“I’m so sorry. Truly, I am.” She now looked as though she wanted to cry.
“The one decent thing I have done since returning from battle is taking over the lion’s share of the responsibilities for the Burness holdings. But I am also proud of my brother, for John was responsible for them while I was on the Continent fighting. He did an excellent job, as I knew he would. But this knowledge also allowed me to wallow in my misery for longer than I should have done. I have been a wretched ogre because of it. In time I hope he will be as proud of me as he used to be when we were children.”
Now her eyes were watering.
Gad, did she have to be so sweet?
She emitted a breathy sigh. “I’m sure he never stopped being proud of you.”
He shrugged. “I’m still an arse in many ways, especially when it comes to women. But I think seeing the countess and viscountess Lord Crawford brought along with him was a revelation for me. These are the sort of women with whom I dallied. Suddenly, I saw what they were and what I would soon become. Drunk. Bitter. Uncaring. Using people and then tossing them away. This wasn’t me. I never wanted to become that man.”
He shook his head. “I knew my dying friend did not mean for me to lead his brother down that path beyond…an encounter or two for the sake of experience. Well, I shall see how he behaves over the next few days. I don’t know if he has it in him to become a leader among men. But he can still be a good earl and protect his sisters by putting the right men in place to assist with his holdings.” He cast her a wry smile. “I had better get back home now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded. “I plan to take the girls to St. Peter’s Church in the late morning. They are putting on a marionette show for the children. Afterward, I thought to take them to Mrs. Halsey’s tearoom for cakes and lemonade.”
“And after that, back here?”
“Yes. This is our schedule for tomorrow. You’ll know where to find us should you wish to join us. We’ll return here by early afternoon, so just look for us either at the house or on the beach.”
“I’ll join you for the marionette show if I can. But don’t wait around for me. I don’t know what chaos will reign as my guests awaken…assuming they can pull themselves out of bed before nightfall. And who knows how Lord Crawford will be feeling? His crying bouts come and go.”
“You could bring him with you.”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. He is not meeting you or my nieces until I am certain he is fit company. We’ll see how he fares in a few days.”
He took his leave and returned to Westgate Hall, disappointed but not surprised to find Lord Crawford in the parlor with his friends. They were already in their cups, including the young earl, and apparently had been awaiting his return to start their nightly revels. “No, I have work to do,” he muttered, and strode into his study.
He shut the door with a slam and stalked across the room, sinking into the chair behind his desk.
It felt odd, this new page of his life.
Phoebe had refused his proposal, but he was not disheartened.
He was a marquess and used to getting his own way.
After kissing her—that kiss still innocent and tame—he did not want anyone but Phoebe. She had felt that kiss sear through her to her very bones.
She would be his eventually, but not before he tackled a presently insurmountable hurdle.
