Page 47 of The Moonstone Marquess
Chapter Nine
Lord Crawford andhis friends were just waking up by the time Cormac returned to his manor. It was early afternoon as the rabble sauntered into the parlor, preparing for yet another boring round of drinks and amusements. “My head is splitting,” Lord Harding grumbled.
The others commiserated.
“Mine too,” the countess said, and the viscountess nodded in agreement.
Lord Crawford did not look any better than his friends. All of them appeared green around the gills.
Cormac should have ordered his wine cellar locked. That would have chased them from his home. He silently chided himself for not thinking of it sooner. But it was merely wishful thinking. He wasn’t going to be a surly host. In truth, he did not know what to do other than hope to distract them with entertainments that required them to be sober.
But his suggestions were shot down by all, including Lord Crawford. “Do you not even wish to take a ride in the countryside or walk along the beach?”
Lord Crawford at least considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t see the point, Burness. It is too strenuous for the ladies, and Lord Harding does not wish to budge from that unopened bottle of wine beside him.”
Cormac sighed. “My billiards table does not arrive until next month. Will you not even consider a walk down to the beach? A little sea air will do us all good.”
Lord Crawford glanced at his friends then turned back to him with a sigh. “Seems cards and drinking are to be it for us.”
“And delights of the flesh,” Lord Harding added with a hearty laugh. “We mustn’t forget that.”
Cormac’s stomach began to churn.
“Do not scowl at us, Burness,” the viscountess said. “You did not mind it so much when we first arrived. What happened to turn you into a monk?
“I’ve told you, my nieces are here.”
“Ah, that’s right,” the countess remarked, her speech slurred, since she was still hungover from last night. “But what do you care? They are not in the house with us. They will not see what you do.”
“I will know what I do.”
The viscountess laughed. “Virtue does not suit you, Burness. Your reputation is far too wicked for that. You really ought to join us in our bad behavior.”
“No, I am going to abstain. But a word of advice—numbing yourself to pain is not going to heal you. Do you not think it is time to face your own demons and overcome them?”
The viscountess snorted. “I am never going to overcome a lout of a husband, so spare me your lectures.”
The countess agreed. “You have no idea how onerous marriage can be to a prig of a man.”
He shook his head. “But you have wealth and security. You hardly see your husbands. Are they truly so odious you cannot tolerate them the few times a year you do encounter them?”
He could understand if their husbands were cruel men who beat them, but they were not married to such men. Nor were their husbands grotesque specimens. Yet these were profoundly sad women.
Lord, he did not want to hear more. He had all he could handle with Lord Crawford.
Still, he was curious to understand what made a marriage unhappy. He needed to know this if he ever hoped to avoid such a fate and make a happy match with Phoebe.
This meant he would have to listen to these women spill their feelings.Blessed saints. He did not want to appear cruel or uncaring, but he really did not want them pouring their hearts out to him. Yet they had to. How else was he to know what had happened to make them so desperately unhappy?
He sighed. “You have my attention. What is it about your marriages that make you loathe your husbands?” It would destroy him if Phoebe regarded him as so bad a match that she had to drink herself into a stupor to face each new day.
No, that would never happen.
She would not destroy herself over him. It was more likely she would apply her sadness to doing good deeds for others.
“You have never been in love, Burness. You will never understand the pain of being apart from the one who is meant for you and can never be,” the countess said.
“Then to see him move on and marry another,” the viscountess added. “Do you think fine homes and jewels replace being in the arms of the one you love? Having to endure the touch of someone you care nothing for?”
