Page 67 of Bargaining for the Barrister
Had he been wrong? His breaths came unevenly. If so, the cost would be great. He’d spend the rest of his life overworking himself and never getting ahead, all while being buried in loneliness. And why? Because of pride? Certainly not. He tugged at the hair on his forehead again and again, the turmoil churning inside him.
He’d not wanted to turn Louisa away again, and it nearly killed him to do so, but what kind of man would he be if he did not hold to his convictions? Unless, of course, those convictions were unintentionally ill-placed. He shook his head, trying to reconcile his life’s choices. That confounded woman, with her charming smiles. Her accusation had effectively shaken him.
“Oh, Paul!” His mother stepped toward him, reaching out her hands only to hesitate. They lifted to her mouth instead.
His own mother couldn’t hug him. Was that because of his pride too? Or fear? Both seemed to rule his life.
“Are you all right? Lady Kellen told me about Mrs. Hammond.”
“Mrs. Hammond?” He blinked several times. He turned and, with his eyes, traced the path Louisa had taken on her way out. “Yes, she was here.” What he had thought was the worst turn of events now felt fated. Louisa now knew exactly who he was and had still offered herself in marriage to him. She was, indeed, recklessly brave, and the word miss did not at all measure the emptiness he now felt in her absence.
Mother’s brows pinched together. “You don’t look well, son. Come in and sit down.”
“I am well enough.” He deserved to feel the depths of his guilt and the hollowness it created.
“Your color is off, truly.”
“As well it should be.” He ground his teeth together, trying to smother the feelings he could barely make sense of. He needed to share them with someone, and it felt right that it should be his mother. “Tell me, Mama, and tell me truthfully. Have I made a bungle of my life? I wanted to earn my right to be your son—to be a Sheldon. But have my decisions been so selfishly motivated that I have proved I am better fit to be Mrs. Hammond’s son?”
Her face softened. “Whatever gave you such an idea? From the moment you walked through that door, you were bound to us by love. You do not have to earn our affection, only accept it.”
Paul stepped closer to her. “But I am still Mrs. Hammond’s flesh and blood. Mustn’t I accept that as well?”
“Believe this, son, you are nothing like your natural mother. Anyone who knows the two of you would tell you the same. And you belong here with us. Of that, I am absolutely certain.”
Her reassurances eased some of his turmoil. He understood her reasoning, but did he believe it?
His mother kneaded her hands together. “Paul, dear, there is something else I would say to you, but I do not want to offend.”
“Go ahead,” he prompted. He wanted to hear it. No matter how much it hurt.
“Your intentions are commendable, but I feel you are sacrificing too much. You are overworked, and the pressure you put on yourself to be perfect will not leave any room for you to enjoy life. Please do not be a martyr. It is not your responsibility to pay for your mother’s past. She will reap the consequences by and by. The only price you are asked to pay will be for your own decisions, and therein lies my worry. I want you to be happy. I want it desperately.”
His next breath was shallow. He would pay for chasing Louisa away. He was already paying for it with the havoc in his heart. And by the concern in his mother’s eyes, he had hurt her too.
He swallowed and gave a slow nod.
Mother surprised him by putting out her hand. “Take it, Paul.”
It was a simple request, and all he could do was stare at her. The years of regret for withholding himself poured through him, urging him to accept it—to fix this broken side of him. He carefully covered her hand with his. The skin around her fingers was so thin it felt as if it would tear, and the ridges of her knuckles were sharp and pronounced. He did not feel an ounce of revulsion or discomfort but a feeling of warmth and comfort that settled over his shoulders like a blanket.
Mother smiled. “I am proud of you. You have the courage to change and to better yourself, and that is the greatest attribute a person can possess.”
Courage. He was willing to do a great deal of hard things if he knew the right path to take. He blinked, and behind his eyes was an image of Louisa. Did his courage extend to her? He needed to apologize for hurting her—to beg for her understanding. But joining hands with her in marriage meant something entirely different, and he had to feel worthy to do so. He gently squeezed his mother’s hand. “I have never questioned your devotion, Mama. You have always seen the best in me. If only everything were as clear to me as you are.” He swallowed down a lump in his throat. “I find I am desperately confused.”
“My guess is you are closer than ever to finding exactly what you need.” She laid her other hand atop his. “We all move through life at a different pace, but you’re getting there, son. I know it.”
He stared at their hands. “Am I? I don’t like how I feel right now. After striving so hard, I cannot feel proud of my decisions.”
“In my experience, we all reach that conclusion now and then in our lives. It’s a horrid state of emotion. What do you propose to do?”
He knew he had to go to Louisa. He could not let her leave without him apologizing. Dropping Mama’s hand, he offered her a tight smile. “I am not sure exactly, but I will not be easy until I have righted my wrongs.” His feet shuffled backward.
“Paul.” Mama’s voice, so tender and sweet and so very opposite of Mrs. Hammond’s, stopped him. “Don’t do this on your own.” Her whole person seemed to plead with him. “Remember, we are here for you.”
His jaw twitched, and he realized he was clenching it. He’d carried his burdens too closely for too long, and it was time to let others in. He forced his muscles to relax. “I won’t.” The concession was like sucking on a bitter herb, but he was determined to fight against his nature in order to allow for a better future. “You, Papa, and I—we can talk more about it when I return.” He waved her toward the drawing room. “Enjoy Lady Kellen’s company.”
Before she could insist he explain what he was about to do, Paul strode to the front door. He was two steps outside when he realized Lady Kellen’s carriage was in the drive. Where was Louisa, then? She had mentioned riding. He hurried down the steps and jogged to the conveyance, checking it first, just to be sure she was not sitting inside, but it was empty. He tapped a hand on the door, and a wave of vulnerability nearly stole his resolve. If he were to pursue her, what would he say? Admit that he might be wrong? Would it change anything? A minute or two passed as he agonized over what to do.
