“I’m sorry, Mama. I tried.” Everett stood next to his mother on the shore and watched as the thunder boomed and the rain pelted down. Lightning struck randomly across the water, and Everett saw his mother clench her jaw tightly.
“Please, please, not my precious boy,” she whispered. “Let him make it back to me.”
As if fate itself had heard her, lightning came streaking down and struck the main mast of the small sailboat. Everett looked on in abject terror asthe boat burst into flames and quickly disintegrated, taking the life of the person in the whole world that he loved the most.
The scream was an unearthly wail that shook Everett to his bones. He looked over and saw his mother fall to her knees, staring out at the water, screaming incoherently. After a moment, she looked at him with murder in her eyes.
“You,” she said, pointing accusingly at him. “This is your fault. Your brother is dead because of your incompetence. You murdered him. Get out of my sight, you worthless piece of rubbish!”
Everett backed away, dumbfounded at his mother’s vitriol, unable to fully fathom what had happened. His beloved brother was dead, and his mother had laid Grayson’s death squarely at his feet.
He looked away from her, back to the burning boat, and did the only thing he could do to ease the pain.
Encased his heart in ice to seal out the hurt forever.
Love brought nothing but pain, and he wanted no part of it.
Chapter 2
Fifteen years later, May, 1816
London, England
“Well, that was a bloodydisaster,” Everett Simmons, the Earl of Robertson, muttered under his breath as he walked into his club. A footman took his hat and cane, and he climbed the stairs to the main room to nurse his disappointment.
He knew about theton’smoniker for him—the Earl of Ice—and that they called him that because he was aloof and rarely showed emotion in public. When had that become a problem? He was a true gentleman, was never rude, and treated each young lady he encountered with the utmost respect. When his mistresses became too clingy, he broke it off with them. It was better to keep his heart frozen than ever risk being hurt again. It was a lesson burned into his soul.
The scene with Miss Grandier in her cousin’s library earlier this evening played over and over in hismind. He’d rather forget it, but that seemed easier said than done. He walked into the main room, spotted two friends in the far corner, and went over there to plop down in one of the chairs.
“Why do you look like your favorite horse has gone lame?” Miles Walker asked.
“What are you talking about? I’m fine,” Robertson said, more gruffly than he intended.
“Oh really? Doesn’t look like you’re fine to me,” chimed in his other friend, Noah Hughes. “I suspect there’s a woman involved. Did someone finally break through your icy exterior?”
Robertson glared at his friends. They’d met at boarding school and remained tight friends ever since. He enjoyed their company and relied on their advice, although not today.
Noah was the most perceptive of their small group, which Robertson usually admired but not at the moment. It was hard to hide things from his inquisitive nature. Miles, on the other hand, was a whiz with numbers and advised them both on good investments. He was probably wealthier than a lot of aristocrats, even though his family was merely country gentry. It didn’t matter one lick to Robertson that his friends didn’t hold titles. They’d been with him through thick and thin, and he cherished their friendship and would do anything for them.
It was almost like having brothers. Almost.
However, at this moment, he wanted them both to mind their own business, but that was looking less likely with every passing minute. He should have gone home instead of coming to the club, but the thought of spending another lonely night in his townhouse didn’t appeal to him.
A waiter came over to their table. “My lord, may I get you something to drink?”
“Whiskey,” Robertson said.
The waiter nodded and scurried away to fill his order.
He’d been courting Miss Helena Grandier this Season and thought she’d developed feelings for him. He admired her a great deal. Admiration was the only emotion he allowed himself to feel while courting. He never wanted to love anyone ever again. He’d done that once, and it’d been a disaster. Wasn’t admiration a good foundation for a marriage? He sincerely thought so, especially since sometonmarriages were less than amicable. He’d seen that scenario over and over again.
He wouldn’t follow that route, as he took his responsibilities seriously and strove to be the best man and earl he could be. He made sure his tenants were given everything they needed to thrive and was glad they seemed content. He didn’t drink or gamble excessively and had foolishly thought that when he finallydecided to marry, any young lady would be happy to accept his hand.
How could he have gotten it so wrong?
Robertson had hoped he’d finally be settled this Season. Miss Grandier would have made a perfect countess—she was witty, elegant, and quite beautiful—but it was not to be. He was adrift once again.
“My guess is it has something to do with Evans being back in Town,” Noah said. “Did I get that right?”
