Lady Cecily behaved differently from other ladies. Where they flirted and fluttered, she could slay him with a level gaze. Where they simpered and preened, she appeared entirely unaware of her own beauty. It should have meant he was less interested in her. In fact, the opposite was the case.
As an earl, he knew he had a certain standing in society. As daughter to an earl, she matched it. He did not understand why this caused him discomfort. A possible explanation occurred to him.
Have I become arrogant?
He shrugged. And what if he was? Why should he be concerned with the opinions of others, when such matters had never bothered him before? A weariness came over him, swiftly followed by anger. He was suddenly tired of Lady Cecily Thornhill, tired of Tom’s tiresome bride, tired of carrying all his burdens. It seemed that Tom did not need or appreciate him, or his concern, in the way he once had. Cecily, too, had withdrawn from him—an event that was hurting him much more than it should.
The thought of his estrangements—from Cecily, from his brother—brought a familiar sinking feeling to his stomach. He knew his thoughts were irrational, his hurts petty, yet he could not stay them. The unhappiness that drove him was deep, and huge, and rooted in events that had occurred many years ago, yet it was the uncertainties around Tom, and Cecily, and Nell that had shaken him to his core and were now awakening a sleeping giant of pain within him.
He sipped his brandy.
I should be impervious to every one of them.
Yet he was not.
Tomorrow, he decided, he would start afresh, considering only his own needs, and not those of others. It was the only way to master this.
* * *
Three hours later he climbed the stairs wearily, yet there was no refuge to be had in his old bedroom. Too many memories lurked in the shadowy corners of the nursery. The bed was uncomfortable as well—too narrow, the mattresses too thin. It had been many years since he had suffered the indignities of such poor accommodation. Internally, he added this to his list of grievances. Yet he knew that the problem was not the mattresses, or the nursery, or any of the trivialities with which he had been distracting himself.
None of this was his doing. If Tom had not been so foolish as to marry a provincial nobody with nothing to recommend her beyond a decent figure and a wide smile, he would not be in the position of having to endure such a change in the relationship between himself and his brother. He also would not have been forced into acquaintance with Lady Cecily, or experienced her rejection of him—a rejection that seemed to have hurt him in places too deep for comfort.
Has she truly rejected me?
Perhaps he could still make things right between them. Yet his gut was not listening. Tom was gone. Cecily was gone. Just like Mama. Just like Tilly. Once more, he was alone.
Tomorrow beckoned. Another day to endure. Tom and his indisposed bride irritating him. Lady Cecily cold and distant. Carmichael hounding him with notions of a business investment, while Harting made sheep’s eyes at Lady Cecily. Part of him knew that such matters, in normal times, would not affect him in this way. But there was something about Hazledene, and Cecily, and that damned wooden knight... If only he could escape from all the people, and the places, and the memories. He generally avoided Hazledene as much as possible, and was now being punished for his own obstinacy in coming here when he should have known better.
At least there were plans for the gentlemen to ride out on the morrow. One more day trapped in the house would likely be too much for him. He felt as though his sanity, his very self, was hanging by a thread.
* * *
Jack’s mood at breakfast was just as listless as at dinner the night before. Bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, he found he could barely manage the required pleasantries, while his fellow guests today seemed equally lethargic. Only Carmichael, his bluff demeanour impervious to hints, chattered freely, opining on everything from the mild weather to his anticipated enjoyment of the day’s sport. Jack played his part in their discussion of the route they would follow, while trying not to look at Lady Cecily, who was currently engaged in sipping tea, her gaze unfocused. She had wished him a polite good morning, yet there had been nothing of intimacy in her glance towards him.
Very well, then.
Yesterday’s alcohol-related ailments had worn off, yet still there was an air of discomfort among the group.
Jack himself was oppressed by a pervasive sense of futility. He was determined to fight the sense of exhaustion that was menacing him, and yet was conscious of a huge hulking monster of pain within, barely controlled. Matters he had ignored for years were awakening, threatening, planning to overcome him. He sensed it but was now too tired to fight any longer.
Nell had not joined them for breakfast, and Tom’s furrowed brow was causing Jack great irritation. Yes, he had no doubt that Nell was suffering, and understood that Tom must feel concern for her, but their strong connection with each other emphasised his new distance from Tom. There was a vague recognition that he envied Tom. Envied him the felicity he had found with his Nell. It made Jack’s solitude all the more apparent.
I am alone.
‘Apologies, Carmichael. What did you say?’ Carmichael had just asked him something. Jack had caught the tone but not the content. Shaking himself, he determined to behave properly, even with this ennui lying upon him. He could do no less.
‘Oh, just that I have prepared the written information you requested. Hoping you can have a look at it today.’ He tapped a paper he had placed on the table beside him.
‘Capital! I shall read it on our return.’ In truth, his mind remained strangely uninterested in matters of business.
Inconceivable!
One more sin to lay at the feet of his heedless brother and the lady causing such havoc to Jack’s previously well-ordered life. Lady Cecily Thornhill.
Once breakfast was done Carmichael and Harting rose first, eager for the ride ahead. They departed, leaving Tom, Jack, Lady Cecily and a strained silence. Lady Cecily had still not spoken to Jack, apart from the basic courtesies, and she was now frowning in his direction again. Or was she? He glanced her way again. Her expression was as smooth as glass, and just as brittle. There was no sense of their previous connection, none at all.
She has left me.
He picked up Carmichael’s paper, idly playing with it, and entirely aware that Lady Cecily was watching him closely. He could not bear the knowledge that she thought ill of him.
The footmen, gathering some dishes, left for the kitchens. Tom wandered to the window, staring outside, his shoulders hunched and a general air of misery surrounding him. With a single, exasperated glance in his brother’s direction, Jack refocused on the lady who continued to disturb his peace with her very presence. He waited until she returned his gaze.
‘Your attention to matters of business continues, my lord?’ There was an edge to her tone, something he could not quite identify. Where had she gone, the Cecily who was his friend?
‘Naturally,’ he lied, shrugging, then glanced towards his brother’s back. ‘Someone in this family must continue to attend to matters of importance. We cannot all spend half the day in bed and expect decisions to be taken as if by magic.’
His brother stiffened.
A hit? Good. For I am done with niceties.
Perhaps Tom would listen to him now. Perhaps Tom would see him. Perhaps Tom would remember that he had a brother.
He picked up Carmichael’s paper and pretended to read, knowing he should not be doing so at the breakfast table.
‘Might I enquire,’ Lady Cecily asked in a creamy tone, ‘about Mr Carmichael’s proposition? Only if you are willing to discuss such matters, of course. I would understand it if you would prefer to maintain privacy, and of course your business affairs are none of my concern.’
He frowned, unsure of her meaning. ‘It is no secret, I suppose.’ His ey
es narrowed. Here, perhaps, was an opportunity to shake Tom out of his lovesick lethargy. ‘A shipping line is in difficulty, Lady Cecily, and is up for sale. Carmichael is keen to invest but knows he has not the experience to make a success of it. Hence, he brought it to us. He says he will follow my lead.’
This had the desired effect. Tom turned, his face twisted with sudden anger. ‘Shipping? But you know that I usually handle matters related to shipping. Why have you not discussed this with me?’
Lady Cecily, Jack noted, was looking from one brother to the other, her expression suddenly concerned. Jack barely had time to consider this for here, finally, was his opportunity to take Tom to task. The angry creature within him demanded it.
‘My dear brother,’ he drawled, ‘you have shown no interest in matters of business since your unfortunate and hasty wedding.’
‘That is not true!’ Tom’s face was flushed. ‘I have signed every paper required of me! And it is only natural that I should wish to devote my time and attention to Nell for now. She is—and will remain—my wife! And I consider marrying Nell to be the most fortunate event of my life!’
Jack gave a bark of cynical laughter. ‘Were you even aware that Carmichael had a proposal for me to consider?’
‘For us to consider,’ Tom replied pointedly. ‘Yes, of course. He is not exactly subtle about such matters. But...’ he shrugged ‘...you invited him here. You were handling this one. It was up to you to include me if needed. We both know that at times we have each taken on different schemes, for ease. But I did not know his proposal involved shipping.’
‘No, for your mind has been elsewhere.’ Jack injected as much venom into his tone as he could manage. The monster within was wide awake now and roaring with rage. ‘Why, even this morning we were all forced to endure your woebegone face at breakfast. I declare it was enough to quite put me off my food!’
Vaguely, he knew he should have waited for Lady Cecily to leave before unleashing his frustration on Tom. Yet somewhere in the back of his mind was a sense that he might be able to trust her. That showing his true self, his true frustrations, might not necessarily be a bad thing. Was it even possible that she might understand him? She had before.
He knew that he was behaving outrageously. Knew it, and yet at that moment he seemed unable to control the anger within. Dimly, he was aware that he was not, in fact, angry with Tom, but with Mama, and Papa, and Tilly—with all the people who should have cared for the boy Jack, yet had not. A lifetime of refusal to look their failures squarely in the eye had led to this day. His mind awhirl and his gut filled with rage, he now avoided Cecily’s eye.
‘Are you accusing me of discourtesy towards our guests?’ Tom’s tone was tight, his hands fisted by his sides.
Deliberately, Jack leaned back in his chair, knowing such demeanour would anger his brother further. ‘You barely spoke this morning. Why?’
‘Because Nell is—is unwell, and I am concerned for her! You know this!’ Tom seemed to have forgotten Lady Cecily’s presence. And yet her presence might be the only thing currently preventing them from taking their grievances to fisticuffs. Oh, how Jack would welcome the release of a bare-knuckle fight! Had he been in London, he could have made his way to Jackson’s Boxing Saloon, there to be soundly beaten by that master of the art. But he was in Hazledene, with no prospect of escape from the memories that surrounded him, thick and dense as any forest.
‘Oh, yes, I certainly know it! But there is no need to make such a tragedy out of it, surely? Our guests expect better!’
‘And I suppose your not attending to Carmichael is acceptable? You starting this argument in front of Lady Cecily—also a guest—is acceptable? Brother, you are becoming uncouth, and I have no further interest in this conversation! I shall see you shortly with our guests, and I expect you to have mastered yourself by then!’ Turning on his heel, Tom stalked out, leaving Jack’s rage with no target.
In the tense silence that followed, Jack met Lady Cecily’s frowning gaze. ‘Well?’ he barked defiantly.
Uncouth? He calls me uncouth? How dare he?
She spread her hands wide. ‘I can say only that I am relieved not to have had brothers, if this is how you go on.’ Shaking her head slowly, she added, ‘You are each as bad as the other, you know.’
He laughed shortly. ‘Not so! It is not I who has abandoned his responsibilities and is lost in a malaise of love!’ The final word was uttered with loathing.
‘You think love a malaise?’ Her tone was mild, but her eyes flashed fire.
‘There is no love! There is only self-interest, and no-one acts from pure motives.’ As he spoke he was hazily aware that she, too, was suffering his irrational anger. But she, like Tom, threatened his fragile self-control. He was better alone, without anyone to betray him.
‘Not true! Love is real, and it makes people act against their own interests at times. I know, for I have seen it.’
This did not suit his current argument, so he made haste to take her down a side road. ‘You are just as concerned about their sudden marriage as I!’
‘I was, at first. But I accepted it. And seeing them together here, I now feel more confident of their true connection.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘They seem truly devoted to one another.’
‘Devoted? Such an idea is nonsensical.’ His gut was entirely twisted now. ‘Until he met Nell, Tom was like me. His priority was to restore our family pride and glory, to undo the harm to our name committed by our father.’
‘What is your notion of glory, my lord?’
‘In our case, it is our fortunes. To restore what my father destroyed.’
‘So in your view, glory is simply wealth? Or might it also be goodness, generosity, doing good for others? Might love be part of glory?’
He snorted. ‘People may speak of such things, but should be judged on their actions, not their words.’ Old memories screamed again within him.
Loss, betrayal, absence, abandonment.
Lady Cecily was now openly glaring at him. So much for trusting her to be his second. So much for believing she might sympathise with his frustrations.
What she said next shocked him to the core. ‘So, my lord if someone loved you—someone like your brother, for example. Would you reject that love?’
Her question mentioned Tom, yet something in her tone, in the steady gaze of her amber eyes seemed to cause his heart to stop momentarily. His mind had leapt to an unanticipated conclusion. Bypassing entirely the question of whether there was love between himself and his brother, he allowed himself to think of love in relation to Cecily herself.
What if she loved me? If Cecily loved me?
For a moment he felt lost, as hope flooded through him. The floor beneath his feet felt soft, and he heard a strange roaring in his ears.
Almost immediately, reality returned. No. It could not be. He had trusted in love before, as a foolish child, and had received only betrayal. He had trusted Tom, but Tom had found someone better to love.
Working hard, and using all the experience of his thirty years, he managed to smooth his expression, to hide the pain and the hope and the fear and the joy that her words had created inside him.
‘Lady Cecily,’ he managed, his tone deceptively silky, ‘as enlightening as this conversation has been, I believe I must take my leave of you. We are to ride out shortly.’ He stood, dimly realising that the predominant emotion piercing through him, throbbing in time with his heart beating, was fear.
He bowed, turned and left, pain from old, old wounds attacking him from within and without.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cecily watched him go, feeling as though her heart might break in pieces. His argument with Tom she could vaguely understand. It was clear to her that the brothers cared deeply about one another—even though Jack would likely not ever admit such a thing. They were both in pain and were causing even m
ore pain to each other. She sighed. Nominally their disagreement related to their business affairs, and Jack’s clear frustration that Tom was currently more focused on his wife than their financial concerns. At a deeper level she suspected Jack was feeling a sense of betrayal. He and Tom had only had each other for many years, and Nell had come along and changed all of that.
It was clear to her that he and Tom shared a deep and abiding affection, yet just now Jack could not allow himself to admit to loving his brother. When she had asked the question, something of her own heart had been in it, too. Overcome with mortification at her own foolish boldness, she buried her head in her hands.
Lord!
Jack had known he was behaving irrationally, she could tell. She had been well on the way to defeating his flawed logic when he had retired from the fray. Yet underneath she had sensed some sort of gigantic struggle within him.
Her hand closed around the knight in her reticule, as it often did. It was key to her understanding of him. Was she reading too much into his words that day? And why was she so desperate to understand him? He had behaved badly just now, and yet she saw pain beneath his anger, hurt underneath the frustration.
Am I being too kind?
She had a tendency to see the best in those she cared about.
Catching her own thoughts, she gasped.
I care about him.
The realisation was unsurprising, even though it was the first time she had voiced it in such a way. And ‘care’ was too weak a word for what she was feeling at present.
Discomfort raced through her.
I care about both of them.
There! That was better. Nell’s husband and his brother would naturally be more of her concern now that her darling friend had married into the Beresford family. Yes, it was perfectly reasonable to be developing an interest in their affairs.
Captivating the Cynical Earl Page 18