Page 12 of Forgetting the Earl
The false gaiety surrounding him, full of laughter and careless banter, rang hollow to his ears. Beautiful women strolling by, deliberately arching to display their bosoms, attempted to capture his attention but with little success. Several gentlemen had sought out Gideon, attempting to renew their acquaintance with the Earl of Southwell, but all received only a polite nod followed by as few words as possible. No, he didn’t wish to go hunting at their country estate, though it was sure to be splendid. Yes, a house party sounded lovely, but he didn’t care to attend. Possibly he would join them for a drink at their club if he found himself with nothing else to do.
London had once seemed bright and exciting to Gideon. There were amusements to be enjoyed. Women to sample. Accolades to receive. Now the city appeared gray and cold. Dull. Boring. Full of people flitting about their frivolous lives with no purpose other than their own pleasure.
A bolt of pain shot up his ruined leg, jerking his body and nearly upending the glass of scotch.
“Jesus,” he said under his breath.
Carefully he transferred his weight to his other side, taking advantage of the wall at his back to relieve some of the pressure. The leg stiffened if he stayed standing too long. Or sitting. The only time it didn’t bother Gideon overmuch was when he was lying in bed.
Gideon gently bent the knee of his injured leg, feeling the pull of the scars. Another bath would be in order once he returned home from this farce. Steaming water seemed the only remedy for the continuous ache of his muscles.
“Remind me again why I’m here this evening?” Gideon said to the man next to him.
“I compelled you to come.” The crisp, precise tone of the Earl of Montieth met his ears. “To enjoy my company.” A slight twitch at the corner of his friend’s mouth could be either a sign of annoyance or amusement. Gideon had spent years trying to discern the difference.
“You aren’t that charming, Montieth.” He took another sip of his drink, relieved to find the ache in his leg easing somewhat.
“There are many ladies, several in this ballroom, who would disagree with you.”
Gideon took in his imposing friend. Montieth was known for a variety of things, but charm wasn’t on the list. “The fact that anyone, let alone a woman, would seek you out for companionship constantly astounds me.”
“I’ve a title and wealth. I could have the personality of an ogre and it wouldn’t matter. I’m not sure why I bother smiling at any of them.”
“That’s a smile?” Gideon took in the twisted lips of his friend. “The creatures swimming in the Amazon are more welcoming than you, Montieth, including the caiman that nearly took off my leg.” Gideon winced, repositioning himself again. “Stop making that face. You’re frightening the young ladies.” He tilted his chin in the direction of three women, all dressed in various shades of pink, like a gossiping bouquet of peonies. “You’ll never find a wife if they’re terrified of you.”
“Nor will you if you continue in your desire to become a hermit,” Montieth replied.
This was an old argument, one he’d had with his closest friend many times since his return to England from the Amazon. “I don’t need a wife. Or want one, for that matter. I relented and came to London. Isn’t that enough?”
“The point of returning to town was to involve yourself in the social whirl. You can’t stay cooped up in your house for weeks on end, only seeing me or Carver,” Montieth grumbled. “It isn’t healthy.”
Montieth might appear to others as coldly austere, but inside of his broad chest beat a heart more caring than any mother’s. Gideon wouldn’t be alive had it not been for Montieth. It had been the stern man before him who’d refused to believe Gideon was dead and had gone to South America to retrieve him. “I can, and I will.”
“I didn’t sail halfway around the world to retrieve you from the Port of Manaus only to have to waste your life locked in your study, poring over maps.”
“I’m not in my study.” Gideon lifted his nearly empty glass to the crowd of people before him. “I’m here being bored silly.”
“You used to enjoy speaking of your travels, South,” Montieth said, frustration coloring his words. “You thrived on entertaining everyone with your adventures, half of which I’m sure you made up.”
“Untrue,” Gideon countered. “I’m a member of the Geographical Society. I’ve led expeditions. I’ve no reason to embellish anything.” Once, when he’d been whole, Gideon had led a handful of explorers like himself to map out the far regions of the world. Now he doubted he’d ever leave England again. The knowledge was bitter and pained him almost as much as his leg.
“Half the women in London were enamored of you, South. Didn’t one matron swoon when you spoke of the coiled snakes you found inhabiting some ruin?”
“It was a tomb,” Gideon corrected him. “And it was giant centipedes. I was so struck by the movements of all those tiny legs I nearly didn’t get out of the way in time.”
Montieth waved a hand. “Snakes. Centipedes. The point is a woman fainted. Which I’m sure you enjoyed.”
“I didn’t. The lady in question likely weighed more than you do and wanted me to carry her to the couch to recover.”
Montieth’s lips twitched again.
“Are you trying to smile, Montieth? It appears as though your mouth doesn’t quite know what to do.”
“The point I’m making is you used to enjoy the attention of all those women sipping tea and hanging on your every word. Your heroics, embellished or not, charmed a great many of them into your bed as I recall.”
“True. I was asked to tea any number of times, and none of those invitations were to enjoy only the scones. But I want to be clear: though there were benefits, I never enjoyed those tedious ladies’ luncheons. I always had the impression I was a bit of bread about to be picked apart by a flock of starving pigeons. I only spoke at those functions as a favor to your mother, whom I hold in great esteem, though she does seem enamored of providing for every orphan or soldier’s widow in England.”
“Lady Trent does love her charities,” Montieth said of his mother. “She’s busy, at the moment, raising funds for a new wing on a charitable hospital. Can’t recall the name. Once it’s done, Mother will be onto her next project.”
