Robertson glared at his friend. “What do you know of Evans?” he asked with a scowl.
“I served with him during the war. He was a good and effective leader, and the men respected him a great deal. What young lady could resist a war hero?” Noah said.
“Leave it alone,” Robertson growled.
Noah held up his hands in mock surrender. “Bloody hell, Robertson. I meant no harm.”
Robertson grunted. Noah’s bringing up Evans’ military career rankled him, especially since he’d always wanted to serve his King and Country. However, his lung condition prevented him from enlisting. There was no way he could do any grueling marches or fight long, arduous battles without collapsing, trying to breathe. He hadn’t thought about that disappointment in years… that is, until Noah brought up the fact that Evans was a hero in the Napoleonic War and had won the hand of the woman Robertson was recently courting.
Bloody war hero!He was loathe to admit it, but Noah was right. Not many young ladies could resist a man in uniform, especially one who’d distinguished himself so well during the war. Even the Crown was impressed with him and had awarded him the title Marquis of Evans. A war hero and a marquis? How could he compete with that?
The waiter returned with Robertson’s whiskey, and he downed it in one gulp, letting the fiery liquid burn down his throat. It was good to feel something besides disappointment. “Another,” he said.
The waiter nodded and left to fetch more.
“If you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you, how about a change of subject?” Miles asked. He was the peacemaker of their little trio and never liked to see any of them upset.
Robertson arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Miles would continue to talk whether he wanted him to or not. Miles was a talker, and he liked to hash out anything and everything, sometimes ad nauseam. It was best to just let him talk and get to whatever point he was trying to make. “What are you going on about now, Miles? I’m not in the mood to discuss any new investments you may have found.”
“It’s not that. Something fun for a change. Lord Fleming is hosting a house party at his country estatein Guilford, which I was considering attending. I’ve heard the land is teeming with game birds. Nothing makes a man feel better than shooting something. What do you say, chaps? Shall we go?”
Both Miles and Noah waited for Robertson’s answer. Perhaps a house party was just what he needed. He didn’t particularly want to be in Town when Evans announced his betrothal to Miss Grandier. “Sounds perfect.”
“Excellent. We can leave in the morning,” Miles said with an expansive smile.
“We’ll use my carriage,” Robertson said. “I don’t relish being in the saddle for hours on end.”
“A toast to having a good time,” Miles said, raising his glass.
Both he and Noah clinked their glasses with Miles, and Robertson was once again grateful for his friends. They were a good lot, and he cherished their friendship more than he could say. The loneliness he’d felt as a child had abated somewhat when he met Miles and Noah and their friendship made boarding school bearable.
For tonight, however, he planned on getting very drunk to drown his disappointment over his rejected proposal. Although it was highly unusual for him to drink so much, he didn’t care. Tonight, he would indulge. He knew his friends would see him home safely. And if he stayed out late enough, his mother would haveretired for the night by the time he arrived home, not that it made any difference to him what she did.
His relationship, or lack thereof, with his mother hadn’t changed in the past fifteen years. She still blamed him for his brother’s death, and no amount of explaining what had really happened had swayed her to his side or even to a truce of sorts. They were like ships passing each other, keeping their own schedule and avoiding each other as much as possible. Rarely was a word spoken between them. That suited him just fine.
He’d never do anything to harm his mother, and as long as she stayed out of his way, he was content to let her live with him in his London townhouse and to continue to pay her bills. Her suite of rooms was now on the opposite side of the house from his, at his specific demand. After he became earl, he told his mother to vacate the countess’s suite of rooms located next to his. She’d resisted at first, saying she’d had the suite for years and didn’t want to move, but in the end, she had complied with his demands. It was either do that or move to the dower house at their country estate, which he knew she loathed. Over the years, he’d learned to stand up for himself, just like Grayson had told him to all those years ago.
His father had left Grace a small widow’s pension, and she could, of course, move to their country estate, but she wasn’t a fan of the country. On top ofthat, her pension wasn’t nearly enough to continue in the lifestyle she’d been accustomed to when his father was alive. Grace was smart enough to realize that she needed to curb her sharp tongue around Robertson after he became the earl, especially since her comfort now depended upon his largess.
When his father had passed away two years earlier, Robertson hadn’t felt any remorse as he stood by the gravesite. The day his brother died had torn the family apart, and no matter what Robertson had achieved since that day made no difference to his parents.
The waiter returned with the bottle this time, and Robertson poured another generous portion into his glass and topped off Miles’s glass. Tonight was all about forgetting about the past. Dwelling on the past didn’t do any good because nothing was going to change. His brother was dead, his father was dead, and his mother despised him.
It was as if he were an orphan.
An orphan with a heart as hard as a rock.
Chapter 3
Olivia, Viscountess Armstrong was enjoyinga cup of tea with her dearest friend, Bettina, Lady Williams. She’d met Bett two years ago when she and her husband, Baron Williams, came to Armstrong Manor to pay their respects when Olivia’s husband passed away. Even though their estates were near each other, she and Lady Williams had only had a nodding acquaintance before then. Armstrong had never allowed Olivia to develop any friendships of her own. He’d controlled her every move, the people she could talk with, what she wore, and where she could go. Meeting Bettina had been like a breath of fresh air. She was a few years older than Olivia, and the two women had hit it off immediately, spending many enjoyable hours together.
Bettina was a ray of sunshine for Olivia. She’d helped her tremendously in putting the trauma of hercruel marriage mostly behind her, although nothing could fully erase those two years of hell that left her with so much doubt about her own worth.
When Bettina had lost her husband in a hunting accident a year after Armstrong’s death, Olivia had been there to comfort her, even though their situations couldn’t have been more wildly different. Bettina had loved her husband dearly, while Olivia despised Armstrong with every fiber of her being. The things he’d done to her would haunt her forever. She wasn’t a cruel person, but she was glad Armstrong was dead.
“It’s time you reentered Society, my dear. You’ve been shut away in this house long enough,” Bettina said with no preamble.
“What?”
