Page 65 of Midnight with the Marquess (The St. Clairs 2)

Chapter Twenty

Five months later...

Evan heard adistant pounding, a constant noise, much like the hooves of a galloping horse down the road. He tried to swallow but his mouth was incredibly dry. His head throbbed painfully, as if someone had laid it upon an anvil and a blacksmith struck it again and again.

In other words, another day of awakening as the Marquess of Merrick.

Nothing had been right in his life since the last time he’d seen Rachel St. Clair. He hadn’t been fully sober since the day Alex and Leah wed, arriving at the ceremony having drunk half a bottle of whiskey that morning as a way to build up his courage to set foot upon Everton’s estate. He’d left the wedding breakfast at Eversleigh with an empty flask in his coat pocket, guzzled between leaving the chapel and arriving at the breakfast.

He’d chosen not to go back to Edgemere after that October day because there were too many reminders of Rachel there.

Especially Calypso.

Instead, he’d come here to London and lost himself in drink and cards. Women, too. Evan had coupled with as many willing women as he could find, trying to free himself from the prison Rachel had encased him in.

Nothing helped. Nothing at all.

Alex had begged him to come and spend Christmas at Fairfield, his first after returning from his honeymoon with his bride. Evan refused. Seeing Leah would only remind Evan of Rachel. He continued to douse his constant heartache with alcohol until nothing seemed left of him. He lived in his London townhouse, where the only piece of remaining furniture was a long settee in the parlor just off the entrance to the house. That way he could stumble inside and fall onto it without having to climb the stairs to a master bedchamber he’d thought to share with his wife. The rest of the furniture had vanished after he carelessly left the front door open multiple times over several weeks. He supposed people came in and merely helped themselves to whatever they saw until the place had emptied out. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered to him anymore.

He did venture to the kitchen to bathe occasionally in a copper tub that had a hole in it and had a woman come in to collect the clothes he’d discarded on the floor. She washed and returned them the next day. For meals, he ate at one of his clubs—when he remembered to do so.

Evan wished for death. He didn’t know why it hadn’t come on the battlefield. That would have been preferable to the living death he now experienced every day.

The blasted knocking hadn’t ceased. Evan could hear muffled shouts coming from outside. If only his unknown visitor knew he never locked the door. There was nothing left inside to steal so he left it unlocked. That way, he didn’t have to fumble trying to fit a key into a lock when he came home too inebriated to accomplish that small task.

Evan pushed himself upright, groaning as his head split in two. He forced himself to his feet and stumbled from the parlor to the foyer. Pushing his hair back from his eyes, he spied the door and opened it.

“Good God Almighty, Evan!” Alex Lock proclaimed. “You’re a wreck.”

Blearily, he saw the Earl of Alford standing there, along with his beautiful countess. Her jaw hung open in shock.

Without waiting for an invitation, Leah stepped toward him and pushed hard against his chest. Evan staggered back as she swept in, followed by her husband.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” she demanded. “Bloodshot eyes. Half-dressed at half-past three in the afternoon. Hair that hasn’t been cut in a month—or two.” She sniffed. “And you stink. No, you reek of whiskey.”

Leah went into the parlor. Evan shuffled behind her and saw her survey the almost empty room.

“This is inexcusable, Merrick. How are you going to win Rachel back in your current condition?”

Rachel...

He tried not to think of her and lost that battle a dozen times a day.

Carefully, he articulated, “Rachel St. Clairisthe reason I drink.” He stood there, trying to muster as much dignity as he could.

Obviously, he failed miserably as Leah snorted in an unladylike fashion. “She’ll never accept you this way.”

“What makes you think I want her?” he asked testily.

Her eyes narrowed. “Because you love her, you bloody idiot.”

Evan froze. He opened his mouth to fire off a quick retort but none came to him.

“She’s right, you know,” Alex said, sympathy for Evan in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have fallen into such ruin if you didn’t love her.”

“I’ve never been loved,” he said stiffly, walking unsteadily to the settee and plopping down. “I’ve never been a part of a family. Rachel has a close-knit one and they all adore one another.”

He raised tired eyes and gazed at Leah. “I don’t know how to love.”

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