The problem with this train of thought he found out—though not soon enough—was that the amount of time and energy he spent finding each companion really had no bearing at all on the companion’s quality. Any woman willing to spend a night, or even just a moment with him without expecting anything in return, more than likely would have done so without his momentous efforts. Not all women were this willing, he knew, though this type of woman was the exception rather than the rule.
These worthwhile women were few and far between.
More often than not Greg depleted his time and energy for a rendezvous that was less than stellar… and even when the encounter was pleasantly satisfying and the woman a rare and worthwhile companion, their encounter was over in the blink of an eye. The pursuit was never worth it in the end.
Greg was too old for these tiresome games.
Maybe it wasn’t fair to blame it all on the women though. In fact, he knew that it wasn’t. At one time, his nights and the women he spent them with had satisfied him to no end. Now, though, he felt quite unsatisfied indeed. The pursuit, the women, even the act itself was quickly becoming dull and tedious. It wasn’t as if the act or the women were any different. Really, he knew they were very much the same as always. It stood to reason then, that there was only one factor left that was causing such a drastic change in his experiences and feelings. And that factor was himself.
He did not know for sure when the change occurred. All he knew was that at some point along the way everything became different. The only part of this all that remained constant was his physical desires and those were as strong as ever.
He cursed himself for those feelings and what they made him do.
Because occasionally, when the ache became too great, he would break down, give in, and seek the companionship of another. And in the end, like every time before, he was left feeling worse than when he had started. The contentment he felt from the physical act of connection was as fleeting as his companion. The thing was, no matter how he tried to fit in, no matter how he tried to force himself to feel gratification in his actions, the satisfaction of his body did not outweigh the satisfaction of his soul.
There was a need, a hunger that ravaged inside of him, and no matter how he tried to feed it he could not quell the appetite.
Greg was beginning to think that this was exactly the sort of predicament a man found himself in right before he decided it was time to find a wife and get married.
Perhaps there really was something to be said for settling down. He didn’t imagine so many of his peers giving up on their games to spend their life attached to one woman if this wasn’t the case. Then again he supposed this rationale was completely flawed. It assumed that other men felt the same way that he was feeling and that somehow marriage was the way to break free from it all. He could hear the taunting now as he tried to explain this one to his peers…
As he thought it around more thoroughly, he recognized that many men didn’t actually give up their pursuits just because they were married. Their pursuits continued on, only now they had to navigate a marriage and a relationship as well as forge temporary bonds with others.
It sounded positively tiring to Greg.
But still, he thought, there had to be something about marriage that made it an attractive option…
Of course there were the obvious social aspects of marriage that lured men in. Most men, he supposed, did it because it was expected of them—a wife, a family, kids. As if being married and having a wife and a family somehow made a man more respectable and upstanding.
A marriage told the social world, “Look! I have thrown off my youthful and rakish ways!” As if saying so somehow made it true. And it wasn’t that the social world was blind, just that they turned a blind eye. A man with a wife on his arm was considered honorable and so all else was forgiven.
Marriage was the decent thing. The expected thing, or so it was said.
But Greg wasn’t a fan of doing something just because it was expected. He didn’t much like being told who he should and shouldn’t be or what he should or shouldn’t do either, especially when it came to the subject of finding a wife. Greg always thought that doing something just because it was expected made a man appear weak, as if he didn’t have enough brains in his head to come up with his own rationale for making a decision.
But when it came to the subject of marriage, well, just because he didn’t have a desire to do it out of necessity did not mean the subject never crossed his mind. He’d be lying if he tried to say otherwise.
He thought about marriage more now than ever before. Part of him felt like it was the only option left. It was inevitable, he thought, and not because it was what was required or expected. Rather because marriage was the only thing left that he hadn’t tried yet. It was the only path still untaken in his effort to try to ease this tension inside of him. But even as his thoughts about marriage became curiouser and curiouser by the minute he found that the timing of it all just wasn’t right.
There was still an obstacle in the way.
Mary.
He wasn’t lying when he told her that she was enough woman for him to take care of right now. It wasn’t that she truly needed him to watch over her every move—she was rather adept now at taking care of herself—it was more that he still felt fiercely protective of her. It was a characteristic that he supposed had carried over from the early years of their friendship, all stemming from the day they first met.
Thoughts of that day still held strange power over him even after all of these years.
It was the day of a spring picnic near the river when the sun was so bright he could barely keep his eyes open. It was the day he fought fiercely with his mother about what to wear to his first social event as a Viscount in his own right. It was the day he learned that smart, witty girls were brighter than sunlight. It was also the day he learned that no matter how the day begins, it can always be turned around by the kind spirit of a friend.
He let himself drift into the memory as he always did, smiling at his surprise over her brash nature, wondering at the naiveté of their mothers for thinking she needed him to watch over her.
Regardless of the necessity the arrangement stuck and he was more than pleased about it. From that day on, it became common place. Greg was left “in charge” of Mary, though as their friendship grew, he began to realize that it was she who was in charge of him.
With her charm and her wit, Mary could take charge of anyone and she relished in proving that again and again. It also didn’t hurt that she was exceedingly beautiful. A blonde haired blue eyed beauty—that was how he always heard her described—and while it was an accurate, straightforward description, it lacked such imagination, or rather such effort, he thought.
Her hair was blonde, yes, but then again it also wasn’t blonde; golden was a more acute depiction, with just a few strands of copper—just so very few—so that only the most carefully observant would see them. And her eyes did appear to be blue, on most days, at most times, in most angles. But if one spent even just a moment looking—really looking—it was absolutely undeniable that they were also peppered with green and gray and brown specks.
Greg was certain, though, that he was the only person to have ever taken the time to make these observations. So to the rest of the world, she was simply an alluring, blonde haired, blue eyed beauty. And as boring as this description seemed to Greg, this simplified portrayal of Mary’s beauty was what always drew people to her.
Men loved Mary. Greg scoffed at the thought. They loved to look at her, loved to kiss her, and loved to touch her. They even loved her company. But really love her? No, none of them did that. None of them knew what joy she got from reading or that she hated chocolate or that she was always smiling. None of them knew that her smile lit up her face and made her the most beautiful woman in the world. None of them knew that for all of her brazen character, she was most at peace when she was with a good book… or when she was with him.
G
reg knew. He knew it all, in ways that no one else ever would.
With a start he realized he should stop complaining about the drinks served at these parties. It was obvious the damn things were going straight to his head…
He took another sip of his drink and raised an eyebrow at it in acceptance.
“Greg!” He heard Mary’s voice in his ear but he was too far inside his own thoughts to answer immediately.
“Greg!” She raised her voice a bit and gently slipped her arm through his as she leaned in closer. “I’m going to be leaving soon. It’s been an hour.”
“No.” He felt his voice soften with her touch.
“No? No, what? I have my own pocket watch. I know it’s been an hour and that’s what I agreed to.”
“I meant no, you can’t go!” Right now he suddenly thought, would be a good time for some friendly conversation. He’d let himself become too moody this evening and he didn’t like it at all. Mary’s presence was just what he needed to raise his spirits. He knew her evening was already planned out but it didn’t hurt to try to change her mind.
“Gregory. Dear.” She said, purposely using his full name in an attempt to irritate him. It was working. “I believe you have misunderstood the terms of this friendship.”
“What? Did you just say ‘Terms of this friendship’?”
“Yes. Rules. You know, lists of things that regulate—”
“I know what rules are. But rules? When did we decide on rules?” He surveyed her through slit, gleaming eyes.
“I don’t know. Sometime. You were there.” She waved her hand as if to illustrate her point.
“I was, was I? Then how is it that I don’t remember this?”
“I’m not responsible for your memories.”
“Really?” He rose one brow. “Is that one of the rules?”
“It may be,” she shrugged.
“So then you don’t know for sure?”
“I don’t know. Let me just get my list…” She turned as if to walk away.
“So there is actually a list?”
“I just said there was.”
“Well, actually, my girl, first you said there were rules. You mentioned nothing of a list. Now suddenly you say there is one…”
“Oh semantics.” She waved her hand again.
“Is it now? I find that when it comes to rules, semantics are very important indeed. As well as connotation.”
“That again?” She rolled her eyes and twisted her mouth. “Fine. There are rules and a list. The list is a list of the rules. Happy?”
He smiled a big toothy grin. “Very much so. Now, what does this list say?”
“That I’m always right.” Now she was the one grinning.
“It does not say that!”
“Prove it!” She put her hands on her hips and squinted her eyes. He could see them twinkle through the small slits.
“You prove it,” he retorted.
“And why should I?”
“Because you’re the one with the list of rules!” Greg said as he pointed to her.
“Well, you agreed to them.”
“It doesn’t count if I don’t remember.”
“Says who?”
“Says the rules.”
“I thought you just said you didn’t remember anything about them!” Now Mary pointed her finger at Greg.
“Well I—”
“What?”
“You can’t leave,” he submitted with a shrug. “I have just created that rule.”
“Well, that’s not how it works.”
“Then how does it work?”
“I’ll have to consult the rules.”
Greg sighed. “Fine.”
“Fine what?”
“Fine. You can go.” He looked at her hoping for a protest but of course she did not. Instead she just continued to smile as he felt his chest tighten at the thought of her leaving. “But I expect a copy of those rules on my desk by morning.”
“I wouldn’t wait up for it.” She was laughing now. “God, Greg. It’s too bad we never have fun, isn’t it?”
“Fun? What’s that?” he teased.
“I love it.” She stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek before turning to leave.
“Wait!” he called after her as she walked away.
He saw her sigh with a heavy shoulder shrug as she pivoted around. “I’m not going to change my mind, Greg.”
“No, it’s not that,” He said when she stood next to him again. “I almost forgot to tell you that I’m leaving London tomorrow morning for business. I’ll be gone for at least a week.”
“So what you’re saying is that you won’t be expecting that list of rules on your desk first thing?”
“Oh no. I still expect them,” he answered with a grin before dropping his voice into a sterner tone. “I just also expect for you to remember—”
“To behave?” Mary shook her head and sighed. “I understand.” She kissed his cheek again but then she frowned. “You don’t have to look so dismal. I promise you I’ll be discreet. As always.”
He watched her walk away as the tightness grew in his chest. Her reassurance wasn’t doing anything to help his concern.
Greg saw her sigh heavily as she turned one more time and walked back to him.
“I know what I’m doing,” she said as she placed one reassuring hand on his cheek. “Everything will be just fine.” She kissed his cheek again and walked away. She looked back at him one more time and smiled.
Everything will be fine.
She sure liked to tell him that. She’d said something similar on the day she informed him of her decision.
There should have been a rule about that.
Dear God, that day… and that woman! He was again feeling that perhaps the party drinks weren’t strong enough after all.
“I have made a decision, Greg.” He still remembered her standing before him; her voice peaked with determination and something that sounded a bit like excitement.
He winced. Unlike the memory of the day they first met, this memory was not the sort he liked to reminisce on. From time to time, though, it crept up on him, and jumped out from the depths of his mind forcing him, again, to accept the reality of this predicament.
He admitted it. On that day he’d thought she was crazy, just plain crazy. And then he thought her crazier still when she told him that “courtesan” was the wrong word for what she was proposing. But the passage of time had given him more of a chance to reflect, and—damn her—she was right after all. This was not the desire of a woman to gain fame and fortune and if it had been, it was a very unsuccessful attempt indeed. He knew those types of women, everyone knew those types of women, but Mary was not one of them.
She did not spend all of her time chasing men or making a spectacle of herself. Most days, most parties, she was as most woman in attendance. She ate too many pastries, she drank too much wine, she laughed too loudly, and she danced until her feet were blistered. And the times when she was not like most women…well, those times were actually much rarer than his mind tried to make them out to be. It surprised him at first to see just how rare they actually were.
He’d somehow gotten it in his head that the physical needs and desires of women were much different than those of men—more wild and unruly—and that there would be no way she could feasibly do as she wished and keep it secret. She’d called him a hypocrite, and—damn her again—she was right.
As it turned out, she conducted her affairs in a way remarkably similar to the way that he, or any man for that matter, conducted affairs. And from what Mary told him, she was not alone. She was not the only woman who did as she wished in secret.
Of course that did not make him feel better about it, then or now. At that time he wanted to scream at her and shake her, take her in his arms and even kiss her just to make her listen. And if he’d actually thought any of those things would change her mind he would have done them without a second thought. But he knew there was nothing he
could do about it. About any of it. It didn’t matter what he said or did now any more than it would have mattered then. Nothing was going to change her mind. Once she made a decision using logic, nothing could sway her from that decision. He hated it with every fiber of his being, but in the end he respected her decision.
And still he admired her, even more than before if that was even possible. He admired her fearlessness, her confidence, and her courage. He admired that she did what was right for her, no matter what others may think or feel. Such qualities were discouraged in women but he forever praised her for having the confidence to possess those traits. And no matter where those qualities led her, he admired her for holding true to herself. How strange it was though that the same qualities that grounded him so firmly to her spirit were also the ones that led her to be bold, and carefree, and reckless.
Right now she was at the same place in her life that he had been at years ago; she was still trying to find her place in the world, still trying to understand her needs and desires.
As he watched Mary through the years he always thought that she would eventually grow out of this—whatever this was—and that she would find a husband of her own and settle down. And only then when she finally married, so would he…. But that hadn’t happened yet—by all appearances it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon—and to be honest, Greg was not disappointed. In fact, if he was really honest with himself he knew that he was actually quite grateful. Because the thing was, on top of all of the boredom and tedium he was feeling over women and affection, the greater truth was that he was not the least bit interested in any of these women.
And not just the ones who would only make decent temporary companions, he also wasn’t interested in the ones who would make decent long term companions as wives and mothers.
That single feeling was the aspect of all of this that was troubling him the most.
Because, he thought as he finally brought his original thoughts back around to a conclusion, if there was something at all to be said for marriage and settling down then he supposed that something most definitely was the certainty of the arrangement. Knowing that you had a partner in life and that you would never be alone when you needed it the most, was a very appealing argument indeed. He knew some men who regarded marriage as nothing more than a business arrangement, a contract, and while it was that, it was also so much more.
Wicked Game 02 - Something Wicked Page 4