Page 27 of A Wicked Earl's Widow
“It’s not a matter of feelings. It’s a matter of fidelity. I need to be sure I won’t make the mistakes of my father. She deserves better than that.” He locked eyes with Maxwell. “You say I’m my father’s son,andhe loved my mother. Yet he was unfaithful to her time and time again. What if I do the same to Eliza?”
“Does the girl love you?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is.” The older man took out his pipe and tapped it against the table. “The key is reciprocity. She has to love you back.”
Nathaniel foundhis mother in the library, a book in her lap, eyes closed. He sank into the leather wingback chair next to her, studying the Turkish rug of golds, blues, and reds. With the heel of his riding boot, he traced the swirling pattern.
“You should change for supper.” Lady Pendleton smiled at her son. “Althea was looking for you earlier. She’s as devoted to you as she is to that dog.”
“I can’t believe you allow Cyrano in the house.”
“I’m getting mellow in my old age.”
He snorted. “So it seems.” He straightened and leaned his elbows on his knees. “And reminiscent?”
She pressed her lips together. “Yes, I suppose we should talk. Why don’t you pour us both some claret?”
He rose and went to the side table, pouring wine for them both. Outside on the lawn, Althea kicked a ball at Cyrano. The hound howled and pushed it back with his nose, his ears trailing the ground. The little girl squealed, ran after it, and tripped. The dog was next to her as she fell on the grass, sniffing at her face and dragging his tongue across her cheek and neck. She grabbed his slobbery muzzle and kissed his nose. Nate’s chest contracted.
Indecision is the root of regret.
“Is this about Hannah’s season in London?” he asked.
“Indirectly.”
He handed her a glass and sat down.
“I haven’t been completely honest about your father and me…and our marriage.” She swished the dark red liquid against the cut crystal, lost in thought again.
“I’m listening.”
“When I met your father, he was the most handsome bachelor of the season, and had recently inherited the viscountcy. I was smitten—my head turned by all the girls who vied for his attention—yet he wantedme. I was never a beautiful woman, pretty and stately as my father used to say, but not beautiful.
“My mother pursued the match because the Pendletons were an old family and extremely wealthy. Since I was the daughter of an earl, his parents approved of the union. We were married before the year was up.”
Lady Pendleton paused, her eyes faraway. “We were so happy at first. Your father was charming, witty—he made me laugh. But as the months passed, his flaws became apparent. His lack of business sense, his overgenerous nature, his excessive spending were all weaknesses I despised. I harangued him at every turn, belittled each of his unsuccessful decisions. I wanted Pendleton to be strong like my father, so I tried to change him.”
“I assume that didn’t work.” Nate studied his mother with narrowed eyes. She’d never admitted any wrongdoing when it came to the late viscount. A knot formed in his stomach. He had just walked onto a cliff with precarious footing.
“The passion still smoldered. As I said, he was a very attractive man, and I was young. It seemed the only thing he could do right in my eyes was…the physical side of our marriage. When you were born, things were better for a time. He was so proud of you, to have a son. Mr. Maxwell became the estate manager, and the property thrived until we had two seasons of rain.”
Nate nodded. “Yes, that was the beginning of the estate’s decline. Father made several bad ventures. Maxwell tried to warn him against the investments, but Father trusted the men and insisted the expenditures would replenish the accounts.”
“Yes, and it wasn’t only that. With the bad weather came the loss of crops, which affected the livestock. The villagers were struggling to survive. I felt bad for them, I did. But our own financial state was not good after the investments went sour. I’m ashamed to say…”
Damnation! What did she do?
“I told him if he gave another penny to those families, when our own future was so perilous, he would not be welcome back in my bed.” She took a drink of the wine and leaned her head back against the chair. The lines around her light brown eyes and mouth seemed deeper. More gray streaked her ash-blonde hair than a month ago. “I began the criticism again, berating him for every decision. Now that I look back on it, I’m afraid he was damned no matter what he did.”
“You were afraid, Mother. Fear can make us say things we don’t mean.”
“No, it was spite. He was lacking, in my eyes, and I resented him for it. My expectations have always been high, even with my children, I’m afraid. But your father was a gentle soul, and I wore him down until he believed what I believed.”
“And what was that?”
“He was a failure, good for nothing but frivolity, and would never be the man I expected.” A tear ran down her cheek. “Ididlove him but I didn’t respect him, couldn’t comprehend why he could not change, so my affection turned sour. I didn’t try to understand the kind of man he was orhelphimbecome the kind of man I needed. In the end, I made us both miserable and pushed him into the arms of another woman. In a way, I am responsible for his death.”
