Such tepid language did not match the tumultuous passion within her, yet she, like Jack, knew that she needed to hide from whatever reality was occurring—for now at least.
She sat on, gazing in an unfocused way through the mullioned windows, and reviewing all she knew of Jack, and of Tom. ‘To restore what my father destroyed.’ Her impression of their father was not a good one, although to be fair the childhood Jack described was not uncommon. Many fathers took little interest in their offspring when they were small and were seen mainly as figures of authority. Her own experience—a loving father followed by a loving guardian—was rare. Yet she saw the lack in Jack and Tom—a lack they may not even realise existed.
She mused on, her mind now considering the matter of womanly influences in the boys’ early life. She shook her head, reviewing the matter of their mother’s death, followed soon after by the departure of Tilly, Jack’s beloved nurse. She had only the basic facts, and needed to know more. Fishing in her reticule again, she pulled out the little carved figure, which she still had no notion of throwing away. The edges were smooth, rounded by hundreds of hours of play and handling from a little boy, long ago. Pain stabbed through her for that little boy, now a complex, unhappy man. Did he even understand how unhappy he was, how meaningless his life without love?
Perhaps he is beginning to understand.
His current anger was out of character, she knew. Jack would never normally show emotion, she surmised. There was trust in it, and an implied compliment. Since Tom and Nell’s marriage, she suspected the Earl’s previous calm emptiness had left him, his cold serenity replaced by new or long-buried emotions that he was struggling to contain. He was not empty at all. He was filled with pain. She nodded to herself.
I shall continue to think the best of him.
Slipping the carved figure back into her reticule, she rose. At least the gentlemen were riding out this morning. Hopefully the exercise and the clean country air would calm some agitation and enable them to resolve the morning’s argument, at least. In the meantime, she would check on Nell, and consider what she could do to help the situation.
* * *
Jack spurred his stallion on, thundering across the wide meadow. To his left and his right, the other gentlemen rode, all letting their horses have their heads and gallop as fast as they wished in the safe openness of the greensward. Hedgerows and trees flashed by in the edge of his vision as he focused entirely on the terrain ahead, navigating nimbly to avoid divots and holes.
Normally, such exercise helped purge Jack of any unseemly emotions, but today it was serving only to intensify the vexation in his heart and mind. Such had been his lot ever since Lady Cecily had come into his life—no, ever since he had been greeted with news of his brother’s marriage. Frustration with Tom was only the start of it. His obsession with Lady Cecily grew stronger by the day, and this morning’s incident had left him reeling. For the first time he had allowed a lady to see something of his true self, and it terrified him.
Anger, hurt, fear and confusion coagulated within him to form a solid, sullen mass of heaviness. It was too dull for pain, too inevitable to be surprising, too familiar for him to expect relief. He knew this feeling, for it had lived within him for a lifetime.
You are worthless, it said.
Despite all the years of financial success and high social standing.
You are useless, it whispered in his father’s voice.
Others would never see him as being of value. Good people would know him to be inferior. Despite the title, the wealth, the status. He was unworthy of ‘Earl’. What did ‘Earl’ even mean, anyway?
Despair had lain buried within him for years, hidden beneath years of cold armour, and Tom, Cecily and Hazledene itself had managed to unearth it. How he wished for a return to the cold calmness of his previous existence!
Cecily’s words pounded through his brain in rhythm with the horse’s thunderous gallop.
Is glory simply wealth? What of generosity and goodness?
At that moment he had defended his worldly view that wealth and fortune were paramount. He knew this to be correct. So why did her words haunt him so?
On he went, the sense of erring, of worthlessness strong within him. Always with him, normally so deeply hidden that he could pretend it was not there. Oh, he had occasionally had temporary relief from it. As a child, while pretending to be a knight. At school, on the occasions when he had done well in an examination or earned praise from a tutor. As an adult, feeling the attention of society, or the adulation of a woman inexplicably infatuated with him. Yet none of it had pierced deeply enough to heal the self-hatred dwelling deep within him.
His father’s disdain, his mother’s death, Tilly abandoning him... Long ago he had come to understand that he was unimportant, unworthy of consideration. Very well! He had made it his business to stand alone, to protect himself and his brother from disappointment. And now Tom himself had turned on him. Until it had happened he had never dreamed it possible.
It was strange, he mused, how normal everything seemed. Here they were, four gentlemen on a pleasant ride together through pretty countryside. Tom, as if to make up for any potential incivility on Jack’s part, was all charm. His calm urbanity served only to heighten Jack’s disconnection from any of it.
It was all rather prosaic, humdrum, commonplace. Yet inside Jack, emotions flared and stabbed, depriving him of any true pleasure in the ride, the company or the occasion. He sighed inwardly.
This is my life.
It was, after all, no more than he deserved.
* * *
Nell was feeling better, and the young ladies had come downstairs to sit together in the parlour. They planned to spend the day in ease, talking, reading and perhaps walking out, for the day was mild and clear.
Cecily, concerned by the worsening of relations between Jack and Tom, knew she could wait no longer for Nell to come to her. Once the servants were gone she lost no time in turning the conversation to intimate matters, and bluntly asked Nell about the situation between Tom and Jack. Nell was unaware of the details of the argument that morning, but Tom had been, she said, blazing with anger as he had been preparing to ride out.
‘While I abhor the distance between them, Cecily, I do think that it is Jack who is behaving unreasonably here. At least Tom has me to confide in.’
While Jack has no-one.
Nell was still talking. ‘I truly believe, Cecily, that Tom needs me just as much as I need him.’ Nell’s voice caught slightly. ‘He and I are both orphans, you know. There is something in that, even though we are now both of age.’
‘I can only imagine. I have been blessed to have Mama still with me, and to have such a kind guardian as I do.’ Her eyes danced. ‘Although I must admit my mother is not, perhaps, an ideal parent!’
‘I could not possibly comment!’ Nell’s eyes twinkled with humour, then her smile faded. ‘Tom’s mother’s death was hard on him. He was only a little boy, you know.’
‘Yes, indeed. It would be hard for any child to lose a parent—as we both know.’
‘But we were both a little older when we were first bereaved.’ Nell frowned. ‘I was almost fourteen when my mama passed away, and you were twelve or so when your papa died, were you not?’
‘I was.’ The old pain of loss had faded, although Cecily still wondered how different her life might have been if Papa had lived. She would not have had to keep such an eye on Mama, that was certain.
‘Tom was troubled when I met him.’ Nell’s gaze was unfocused. ‘It took him a long time to understand that he needed to be loved, but once that became apparent to him, everything changed.’
Abruptly, Cecily’s thoughts swerved away from her mama, away from Tom, and towards the other troubled man—the one who had been taking up most of her attention. Nell’s words hit her like a thunderclap. Unthinkingly, she declared, with feeling, ‘He needs to
be loved, but he does not understand this. Of course!’
‘Oh, but he understands now. That is why I am so certain that his affection for me will not fade.’
‘What? Oh, yes. That makes sense, Nell. How old was Tom when their mama died?’
‘He was five. Still quite a baby, really.’
‘Yes.’ So Jack had been seven. Far too young to lose one’s mama. ‘But Tom and his brother had had each other.’
‘Until recently, they were everything to each other, I believe. Jack, from what I have learned, has always wished to protect Tom from harm.’ She sniffed. ‘I suppose Jack’s nose has been put out of joint by Tom’s marriage to me, for Tom did not consult him first. As head of the family, Jack can be most particular.’
Cecily shook her head. ‘There is more to it, I believe. Yes, Tom’s marriage was undoubtedly a shock to the Earl, and it is unfortunate that you married so quickly in that regard.’ She reached for her friend’s hands. ‘No, do not be angry with me! I am trying to be fair to all of you here.’
‘Please, do not criticise me, Cecily! You, who are my greatest friend, and who know me better than anyone?’
‘I do not criticise you, not at all! And, yes, I know you well. But, Nell, I did not know Tom when you married. Or at least, what little I did know of him gave me good reason to be concerned for your happiness.’
‘You are referring, I suppose, to the Beresford brothers’ reputation for cold-heartedness.’ At Cecily’s nod, she protested, ‘But I did not know anything about his reputation when I agreed to marry him. I only knew that he loved me, as I love him.’
‘And that is precisely why, as your friend, I had to be concerned. Do not mistake me—I support your marriage. I am merely trying to explain why someone might be concerned.’
Someone like Tom’s brother.
‘And so I must point out that I also remember...’ she took a breath ‘...how Tom hurt you. At Christmas.’
Nell lifted her chin. ‘Cecily, you clearly do not understand. I shall tell you, as best I can.’ She thought for a moment, then lifted her head to meet Cecily’s gaze again. ‘It was worth it. Love is worth it. I was not fully alive until I loved Tom. He was not fully alive until he loved me.’
Cecily eyed her in puzzlement. Nell’s words were creating deep currents within her, swelled by her existing enthralment to the Earl. She could feel the danger in it, but could not grasp Nell’s assertion that putting one’s heart into danger was in any way sensible.
A maid arrived, bringing tea, and Cecily held her tongue. For now.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The gentlemen had reached the far side of the long meadow and pulled up, allowing the horses to recover. Jack joined in the whoops and expressions of exhilaration, aware that he was simply not feeling what the others were feeling. A brief easing of his pain at the height of speed, that was all. He avoided looking directly at Tom, but was conscious that his brother had still been rather pale and decidedly stony-faced as they had set off.
It was well past noon, and they had been riding for almost two hours, their route taking them over hills, across rivers and through woods. Opportunities for a gallop had been rare, so they had made the most of this wide meadow. By agreement they turned back now, wishing to return to Hazledene in good time for dinner. Tom, naturally, had argued strongly in favour of heading for home. Jack had had to press his lips together to prevent a scathing comment emerging. He felt himself to be continually on the edge of losing his hard-earned sense of control. Arguing with Tom. Kissing Cecily...
No. He must not think of that. She was too dangerous to his peace of mind. Once she was gone he would be better able to rebuild the fortifications he needed around his heart. Thankfully that day would soon arrive. Before the month ended she would go, and he would regain his equilibrium. Dealing with Tom was enough. The last thing he needed at the same time was an inconvenient obsession with a lady who was even now judging him as harshly as his father ever had. It was all very well to regret her having witnessed his unseemly spat with Tom, but he had no way of undoing what he had done and said.
Carmichael was speaking, and Jack glanced towards him. He was all red-faced good humour, and for an instant Jack was conscious of something like envy. Carmichael had no self-consciousness, no airs, no deep-set wounds. He was comfortable simply being who he was. Vaguely, memories of Carmichael’s extended family floated through Jack’s mind. His parents, both bluff country types. His sisters, their husbands and numerous offspring. The relaxed chaos that had permeated their family home on the one occasion Jack had visited. Jack had, of course, held himself aloof from it all, yet now some part of him, he realised, yearned for the unspoken affection and acceptance that permeated the Carmichael home.
It is not for me.
Today he had finally let go of all such notions. There was too much peril in it. He now knew that his life would be one of business matters, of marrying and securing an heir with a like-minded maiden who also embraced solitude and a proper distance. Briefly, he thought of the child, growing up in such a household, and felt a little nauseous.
Yes, well, plenty of time to marry.
He would wait until he was sure he had found the right person to be a suitable countess.
And when the time came, he would hire a nurse who was warm and loving and he would pay her enough so that she would not leave.
* * *
After a couple of hours of lighter conversation, Cecily decided to be brave and dive into deeper waters again. ‘Nell,’ she offered tentatively, ‘remember our conversation earlier about your marriage, and the Earl’s reaction to it?’
‘Yes. I have been thinking about it ever since.’
‘You have? And have you reached any conclusions?’
‘I know you care about me. And so, if you think it helpful to try to look upon events as if from the Earl’s perspective, then I am open to doing so.’
Cecily embraced her. ‘You are such an open-hearted person! I know it takes courage to do this, so I thank you.’
‘Do not thank me yet,’ Nell offered wryly, ‘for I may yet conclude that Jack is the most heinous person and is not worth Tom’s concern.’
They chuckled a little, yet Cecily knew she must tread carefully. If the breach between the brothers was to be healed, they would have to each understand the other. That meant Nell needed to influence her husband. This was only the first step of many.
‘I have been considering your words from earlier—about how the death of his mama affected little Tom. How do you imagine it affected his brother?’
Nell frowned. ‘He would have been seven, so also very young. I do not doubt he felt her loss every bit as keenly as my Tom.’
‘They are very alike in many ways.’
‘In looks, yes. But not in character!’
‘Are you certain of that? I see two stubborn, strong-willed gentlemen, both with an equal reputation for cold-heartedness and an eye for wealth and wealth alone.’
‘That is unfair! My Tom has changed!’
‘Yes, you see a change, and I trust your judgement. But has the stubbornness changed?’
Nell smiled ruefully, acknowledging the hit. ‘Not at all! He is quite the most immovable person, once a notion has taken root in his head. He—Oh! I begin to understand.’ She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. ‘Yes, very well, I concede that in some respects there are similarities.’
‘Now consider this. If Jack had married hastily, to someone Tom did not know, and Jack was professing himself to have become vastly enamoured of the lady, how might Tom have reacted?’
‘I believe Tom would have welcomed it, for he has spoken to me of his longing to see Jack happy.’
‘What of the old Tom? The Tom who had never himself been in love?’
Nell opened her mouth, then closed it again. Cecily pressed her advantage. ‘And what if the marriage was co
ntracted within weeks of his first meeting the lady?’
Nell’s hand fluttered to her brow. ‘He would wonder if the lady’s motives were pure. Or if Jack had become lost in a temporary tendre. Of course he would.’
‘So the Earl’s reaction to your marriage might not be wholly without rational basis?’
Nell’s jaw dropped. ‘No. Why, it might be an unsuitable marriage in a number of ways!’
‘Precisely.’ They looked at each other, and Cecily could almost see her friend’s understanding become clearer.
‘But... Jack has met me now. Surely he can see that I am not so unsuitable, and that I truly care for Tom?’
‘Indeed. I do think he begins to appreciate you, Nell. Some of his persistence will be to do with sheer stubbornness, I suspect, and Tom battling with him just makes both of them obstinate in opposition to one another.’
Nell sighed. ‘This I already know. They each make the distance between them greater each time they debate this.’
‘There is more. Earlier, when you spoke of their mother dying, I wondered if there was another reason for Jack’s harshness.’
‘What is it?’
‘I have been trying to imagine their entire household at the time of their mother’s death. We have been told that soon afterwards the boys’ nurse also left. With regard to their father, I know little of him, but he does not strike me as a warm-hearted papa, such as yours and mine were.’
‘No, indeed! I understand he was a remote figure, not a loving one. He treated the boys with some harshness, I believe, and had also made their mama unhappy.’
Cecily shook her head, feeling another pang of pity for the two motherless children. ‘So who cared for the boys, then?’
‘There was a nursemaid. Tilly. But she went away.’
‘So who loved them then?’
Nell looked at her blankly, her eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘No-one,’ she whispered. ‘No-one.’
Cecily swallowed. ‘You mentioned before that Jack has always sought to guard Tom from harm.’
Captivating the Cynical Earl Page 19