Liquor had destroyed everything in my life, hadn’t it?

It seemed a crazy thought… but when I walked into my bedroom later in the evening, I had a sudden urge to destroy it all. I picked up the liquor bottles, smashing them against the ground one by one, my anger seeping out with each shatter. The pungent liquid pooled on the wooden floor, and I suddenly felt absurd at the mess I had made.

But I also felt… good. For years, I had been a slave to my desires… a slave to my addictions.

Now, it felt as if a page had turned.

I was just a little bit closer to being free.

Ipacedthehallwayadjacent to Amelia’s bedroom later that night, unsure of what to do. I wanted to speak to her again, but what would I say? I wanted to apologize… but would she even want to listen?

I couldn’t blame her if she didn’t.

A few times, I walked all the way up to the door and reached my hand towards the knob. But I couldn’t get myself to do it. Yes, I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to apologize and hold her and make everything okay again. But I knew that it was too soon. I had to give her time, didn’t I?

I had to prove to her that I would be the man she needed. And that would take longer than a few hours of sobriety.

It might even take years.

The idea of that depressed me at first. But the more that I thought about it, the more I felt up to the challenge. I had never wanted something so badly in my life.

Thenextmorning,Iwoke at sunrise, a slight headache throbbing in my veins. But my usual medicine was lying smashed on the ground, and I didn’t want it, anyways.

Not anymore.

At breakfast, Amelia wasn’t there. I swallowed my poached eggs and toast in a rush. I wasn’t hungry and my head was beginning to pound, but I knew I had to eat something. Afterwards, I paced the hall outside of her room for a half hour, but she never appeared.

I finally decided I had to do something with my energy, or I would simply go insane. After a last glance at her door, I left the house in my sporting clothes, determined to distract myself with fencing.

It was a sunny Tuesday morning in early fall, and the London season was already over. Those who were left in the city were either enjoying the last days of warmth, frolicking in Hyde Park and shopping in Mayfair, or packing up their belongings to return to the country. Consequently, the fencing courts in the Opera House Buildings were dead. I found myself practicing my fencing form alone, the deafening silence only amplifying the thoughts in my head.

Amelia. Amelia. Amelia.

With each swipe of my fencing saber, I saw her face flash before my eyes. I felt the warmth of her embrace… and the coldness of her rejection.

Damn it. I simply couldn’t stop thinking about her.

A sound from the front of the court roused me, and I turned to find two gentlemen entering the room.

“I’m worried about what he’ll do. He’s been behaving so strangely, ever since Juliana…”

The man’s words trailed off once he registered my presence. His face paled slightly, and he looked towards his companion with a raised eyebrow.

“Morning.” I said, unsmiling.

Of course, I would run into Lord Turley’s brother, of all people. And it sounded like he had been talking about Juliana Pembroke. Perhaps he was discussing Lord Turley himself?

Was the raving lunatic still going on about that whole thing?

I imagined Amelia glaring at me. She’d probably remind me that Lord Turley had a right to be upset – Ihadruined his engagement, after all. I felt the briefest prick of annoyance that Amelia had successfully invaded my subconscious, but it was quickly replaced my affection.

Perhaps she was not only making me less of a rake… but also a better person.

“Morning.”

Turley’s brother responded stiffly. His companion looked uncomfortable.

I found myself at a loss for words. What was I supposed to say to this man who clearly detested me? Usually, I would have been rude and contemptuous. Indeed, that was the regular William attitude towards these types of encounters.