The words, so much like his thoughts over the past two days, suddenly sounded wrong when spoken out loud. He blinked, uncertain what to say in response. Edward noted the silence, his lips twitching.
“So you do care what she thinks.” It wasn’t a question this time and Martin had to acknowledge it was true. Still, it wasn’t what Edward thought. He struggled to find the words to clarify.
“She wants to think love has something to do with marriage. That it’s a possibility in our marriage, and I’m the one being stubborn by refusing to consider that possibility.” He ran a hand through his hair, still damp from the bath he’d taken at the townhouse. “Even if I thought I was capable of love — and I am my father’s son, for all that means — I have no intention of giving someone that kind of control over my life. Just look how it turned out with my parents. My mother thought my father capable of love and it destroyed both of them.”
“Not everyone is your parents, Martin.” James’ words were quiet.
“No, most stop short of outright scandal and refrain from flaunting their bed partners in front of the ton.” Martin felt his hands fisting and forced them to relax. “While my parents may have taken it to the extreme, you have to admit that they’re much more representative of the ton than we are.”
“Maybe.” Edward sat back in his chair, swirling the whiskey in its glass. “But from what I know of her, your wife has more in common with us than she does with the rest of Society. It’s a disservice to both of you to assume either she or you would behave like your parents.”
“And you’re well-versed enough in love at this point to say that with certainty? Assuming you have evidence that my family is capable of love in the first place.” He could hear the implied criticism and it stung, unexpected as it was. He realized he’d always expected Edward to follow the same path he did, eventually — settling down with a young debutante in a Society marriage. To find out he’d made a love match felt strangely like a betrayal.
Edward looked like he wanted to say something and then shrugged, apparently changing his mind. “All I’m saying is that it’s not impossible for you to give love a chance. The person stopping you from doing so is you, no one else.”
“And when she decides she’s in love with someone else and I become the laughingstock of the ton, what will you say then?”
Edward simply looked at him for a moment, until he had to fight the urge to flush and look away. “I find it highly unlikely that you would marry a woman who would betray you like that, no matter what the circumstances.”
“I wasn’t about to cause the same kind of scandal my father did!” Martin hissed, keeping his voice down out of habit. With company so light in town, there wasn’t anyone around to overhear him. “I had no choice but to take her as my wife. I knew practically nothing about her.”
“I think you knew more than you think you did.” James’ voice was quiet. “I’ve never seen you look at any woman the way you looked at her, even when we were young and …eager.”
Martin snorted. Desperate for any woman was what James meant, even if he was too polite to say it.
“That doesn’t mean I knew her.”
“But you wanted her like you’d never wanted a woman before, and every touch felt like a shock to the senses, didn’t it.” It was half statement, half question, and Martin turned to look at Edward, surprised to hear it described so succinctly. Especially since Edward hadn’t been in town to see his interactions with Teresa.
“And if it did?”
“It’s up to you what it means. If you felt that way at all, of course.” Edward raised his glass in a sardonic salute before taking another sip of the whiskey. “I just know how it felt when I met Cecilia and that I couldn’t risk giving her up until I understood why.”
Martin narrowed his eyes, wary. This felt just like the debates they’d used to have in university, when Edward was setting up for his final point of argument. Still, the question had to be asked. “And do you understand why now?”
Edward grinned. “I do. I suspect you do too, although you likely don’t want to acknowledge the answer.”
“You think it’s love.” Martin shook his head. “But you can’t love someone if you hardly know them and the connection you’re talking about was there when you met your wife. It has to be something else.”
Edward raised an eyebrow at this. “Does it? I’m interested to hear what else you think could be the reason why all other women suddenly seem insufficient.”
“You know I’ve never had any interest in looking outside my marriage.” Not after his father. That had been one of the vows he’d made to himself at a very young age.
“I’m not talking about that, so don’t get all defensive with me. You didn’t marry Teresa the moment you met her. Hell, you said yourself that she was helping you sort through the debutantes. You had to be looking at them, if you were considering one of them for your bride. How did they measure up?”
It should have been an easy question to answer, Martin realized. Short though his time on the marriage mart might have been, there had certainly been no shortage of young women thrust in his direction. None of them had been memorable. The only face he could call to mind was Teresa’s. Teresa’s laughter in the ballroom. Her irritation with his high-handedness. The way she licked her lips when she was nervous. Her eyes, watching him intently as he’d lowered his head for a kiss…
James cleared his throat, the sound loud in the silence. Martin started at the noise, pulled back from the memories of Teresa. He did his best to ignore the smirk on Edward’s face, aware that his silence had answered the question.
“The attraction will fade.” He had to believe that, had to think that once he finished getting her out of his system, the order and control he’d spent years building would return and he could settle back into the routine.
“Think whatever you want, but I’ll say it hasn’t yet.” Edward drank down the rest of his whiskey. “Which is why I will bid you both adieu and go see what my lady has done with her day. You’re both welcome for dinner while you’re in town.”
James perked up. “I’ll have to take you up on that. Tomorrow, maybe?”
“We’ll look forward to having you. And you, Martin?” Edward stood and looked down at him. Martin shook his head.
“I have business for the rest of my time here, which should be short.” That and he didn’t need another evening of interrogation and not-so-subtle hints that he was being stubbornly wrong.
Edward’s gaze met his, sharp and penetrating. “The offer stands if you change your mind. I know Cecilia would love the chance to meet you. Meeting her would do you some good, I think.”
Martin drained the remainder of his whiskey, feeling the burn trace its way down his throat before settling into a warm pool in his belly. “I’ll keep it in mind.” There, sufficiently neutral to avoid offense. He hoped, anyway. It wouldn’t have even been a consideration the last time he’d seen Edward, but he didn’t know what to think of this new Edward, who was in love with his wife and looked forward to an evening at home with her.
Another chair scraped across the floor and he looked up to see James standing as well, hand out to Edward. “I’ll walk out with you. I’m expected back at the house tonight. Harriet’s in town and Mama wants the whole family at home for dinner.”
Martin frowned. James’ note hadn’t mentioned any of that. Still, he rose to offer both a handshake before they headed out the door, Edward asking how James’ sister was faring. Martin grimaced, glad to miss that discussion. Retaking his seat, he waved the waiter back over and ordered another whiskey. He needed food eventually, but for the moment he wanted to brood.
His mind chewed over what Edward had said. Edward certainly acted like he was in love. Martin didn’t think he’d ever seen his friend so …content. There was a joy, a certainty about him, as if he’d finally found his purpose and it had centered him.
But he wasn’t Edward. Martin didn’t need someone else to give him a p
urpose. He had one already. People relied on him to guide the estate back to profitability and stability, a goal he had worked toward since assuming the title. A goal that was just about within reach, but only after ten years of dedication, hard work, and difficult decisions that most of his peers would never acknowledge.
Far better in their eyes would have been to have married an heiress and simply used her dowry to restore the estate. Or better yet, to have let the estate continue to languish while I spent the dowry on my own pleasures. Only because he had kept his direct involvement to business ventures traditionally considered acceptable for the gentleman — overseeing the agriculture, handling estate questions, and horse breeding — had he been able to avoid any scent of shop.
Maybe I should have just ignored them all and gotten my hands dirty anyway. I could have been done by now without the inheritance and then I wouldn’t be in this mess. He snorted as he considered the ridiculousness of the ton’s social code. Investing his money in trade and industry was well and good, but the instant he asked questions beyond what was considered acceptable for an investor, he was to be shunned.
The whiskey appeared on the table before him, the waiter whisking the empty glass away so silently that Martin only saw the man retreating out of the corner of his eye. He raised the new glass in a mock salute toward the door Edward and James had exited before draining it and placing it back on the table. Who knew? Maybe Edward really had found love.
It was a far better thought than the alternative: that his wife was playing him for a fool. Martin set his teeth. His parents had taught that lesson well, if no other. Even if he were capable of it, he would never let someone have that kind of control over his heart.
Chapter 31
Martin scowled at the knocker. It hung on the black door, a splash of polished metal that picked up the colors of the sunset and reflected them back at him. He shouldn’t be looking at it. He shouldn’t even be here, the invitation from Edward notwithstanding. The morning had started on a sour note and only gone downhill from there. Only after several hours with the attorneys had the inheritance been safely deposited in his account — something which should have pleased him. Instead, he’d found himself getting more and more irritated as the day dragged on, wondering why the farce had been necessary in the first place.
In short, he was hardly fit company by anyone’s standards, let alone Society’s. That was why he had decided to head home and dine there. And yet here he was, standing and looking at the knocker. He still didn’t understand why he’d told the coachman to turn at the corner rather that continuing on to his own townhouse. Or why he’d told the man to continue on to the townhouse without him, saying that he would make his own way home later.
This was foolish. He should just turn around and walk home and that would be the end of—
The door swung open and Edward looked at him, a grin on his face. “Martin! I thought I recognized your carriage. Come in! Why didn’t you knock?”
“I-I was just passing by.” The excuse sounded lame in his own ears, but Edward didn’t seem to notice as Martin stepped inside, taking off his hat and handing it to a waiting footman along with his gloves. “I didn’t intend to interrupt.”
“Nonsense. Come upstairs, there’s still food on the table. I take it you haven’t eaten yet?”
Martin grimaced. “No, business kept me late.”
“Well, I’m glad you decided to stop by anyway.” Edward stepped through the open door to the dining room, turning to speak to the room. “As I thought, we have one more guest joining us after all.”
Two faces turned to look at Martin as he stepped in after Edward. James raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised to see Martin, but most of Martin’s attention was caught by the stunning young woman sitting in the seat of the lady of the house. A pair of eyes nearly as green as his own widened in surprise at his entrance. He blinked again as he took in the well-proportioned face, black hair, and clear spark of intelligence in those eyes.
Martin had no idea what he had expected but it certainly hadn’t been seeing his father’s eyes staring back at him from the face of a young woman. She pushed her chair back and rose, coming to stand next to Edward.
“Martin, allow me the honor of introducing you to my wife, Cecilia, formerly Miss Banfield. Cecilia, this is Martin, the Earl of Carlington and your half-brother.”
His eyes jerked from Cecilia’s to meet Edward’s level stare. “I don’t have any siblings.” The words tumbled out, an automatic response even as Edward’s statement circled around and around, echoing in his skull. The ton overlooked many things, but this sort of scandal would have set tongues wagging, even with his father’s reputation as an amoral bastard.
“I don’t know if your father ever knew.” Cecilia’s voice was soothing. “Here, take a seat. I know this must be a shock. Edward said he was going to tell you but I thought he would handle it a little better than that.” She shot her husband a look as Martin fumbled his way into the nearest chair. Edward merely shrugged.
“The opportunity didn’t come up yesterday and then I wasn’t sure if he was going to come by today. Now he knows.”
“But how?” The room suddenly felt too small, even though it could easily seat twenty for dinner. His mind was a jumble of thoughts, all groping for an answer. “How haven’t I heard about this before now? How can you be sure?”
Edward placed a glass of whiskey at his elbow and Martin took a grateful swallow. The burn helped ground him as Edward took a seat next to Cecilia, now sitting across from Martin. She took a deep breath. “When I turned thirteen, just before my mother died, she took me aside and told me that the man who I called Papa was not in fact my father. That after my older brother was born, my father was sent on a diplomatic mission expected to last several months and she stayed behind. About a month before my father returned, she went to a house party with some friends and met the then-Earl of Carlington.”
Martin knew enough of his father’s reputation to fill in the next part. A vulnerable woman in the perfect setting — he would have been unable to resist. “And so you were born early?”
Cecelia nodded. “She knew by the time my father returned that she was expecting and confessed. To his credit, my father forgave her and never said a word to anyone that I wasn’t his. Since my brother was born early too, no one really paid much attention, but my mother knew. I don’t know if she ever forgave herself, for failing her vows in a moment of weakness. She’d always been fragile, my father said, and her health was worse after that. So we stayed close to the estate and only entertained locally until she passed away.”
That was exactly the sort of trail of ruin his father left in his wake. Still, he would have been inclined to dismiss it as mere coincidence if it weren’t for the eyes. According to family lore, the vivid green marked all descendants of the Carlington line. There were few enough of them these days for him to verify that — both his father and his grandfather had been the only surviving children of their generations.
Hell, the last time he had seen those eyes outside of a mirror had been at his last meeting with his father — the first time he could recall meeting the man, since his memories of his mother’s funeral were a blur. Even drunk, the eyes bloodshot, the green had nearly glowed. The physical deterioration of the body around it had done nothing to detract from it.
And now he saw those same eyes in the face of the woman across the table from him and he’d never heard a whisper to suggest that there was another pair of Carlington eyes.
“I …have to say this isn’t what I expected when I came up the stairs.” He fell silent as the door swung open and a footman entered carrying a place setting, which he set in front of Martin. At Edward’s nod, the footman bowed and left again, closing the door behind him. Cecilia busied herself with filling Martin’s plate for him. “How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Edward met his gaze without flinching. “I found out shortly before I married Cecilia. Once she discovere
d that we were friends, she’s been anxious for the chance to meet you. I figured it was news better shared in person, but we arrived back in London just after you’d left for your estate.”
Cecilia put the plate full of food down in front of him. “Eat. It will help.”
He picked up the fork and mechanically took a bite. Ham and new peas, with salt and butter — simple food, but good. His appetite roared back to the surface from where it had hidden under the shock of Edward’s announcement and he made short work of the food on the plate in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he leaned back and considered Cecilia. She met his gaze with her own, steady and cool and disconcertingly like looking into a mirror.
“Thank you for dinner. I appreciate your willingness to serve an unexpected guest, even if he does arrive late.” A clunk at his elbow told him James had refilled his glass with whiskey, although he couldn’t remember draining it. He took another swallow.
“I’m just pleased to finally get to meet you, Lord Carlington.”
Martin sent her a wry smile. “Surely we don’t have to stand on ceremony amongst family. Call me Martin.”
Her lips quirked at that. “Martin then. Edward’s told me many stories about the three of you.”
“I’m sure some of them were even true, but without knowing what he said I can neither confirm or deny them.” It was the sort of thing Edward would do from time to time, throwing in an occasional tall tale to see if anyone was actually listening to him.
He wondered where Edward had found her. With her looks, she would have taken the ton by storm. That suggested she hadn’t had a Season in London, since even his distaste for gossip wouldn’t have kept him from hearing about a new beauty. Some Society news was unavoidable, no matter how much he tried.
“I’m sure if I told you, all the ones with you as a hero would be true and all others would be false?” Cecilia raised an eyebrow at him in a move so much like his own that he had to blink even as he barked out a laugh.
Entangled with the Earl (Tangled Threads Book 1) Page 27