There were at least a dozen things he could have done better tonight when he thought about it. One mistake after another, toppled on to weeks of trouble.
I was… caught unawares. That’s all.
For a moment, he convinced himself she would come back to him. And then Ronan had to accept that she wouldn’t. No, Isla was a confident woman most of the time. Bold. Strong. If she walked away, then that was exactly what she meant to do.
“And who could blame me?”
Oliver let out a heavy sigh that Ronan felt in his heart. It was a fair reminder he didn’t belong here, and didn’t want to wake his boy again.
His tight grasp on the railing loosened bit by bit. He still felt frozen when he managed to move one leg, feeling like he might have to eventually crawl his way out of here. But then the other leg moved. And then he forced himself to go, closing the door behind him.
Setting the candle down on a nearby side table, Ronan paused to catch his breath. He rubbed his forehead. Regret was a bitter taste on his tongue. He hadn’t meant to… had he?
I can’t do anything right any longer, can I? I don’t even know where I went wrong to begin with. Only that I keep making everything worse. The plan. The plan was set to work so perfectly. So why isn’t it working? I did everything right.
Eventually, Ronan made his way to his study. He couldn’t bring himself to get to bed yet. The hour wasn’t that late yet, and he didn’t like the idea of lying there and listening to the storm.
“Drinking again, are we?”
He blinked to find Hobbes entering his study. The butler nodded toward the glass laid out before Ronan. Only three bottles remained in the estate. All hidden away. Two by Hobbes and one by Ronan.
“Not yet,” he responded with a baleful eye. “I’m considering it.”
Inching in further, the old man asked, “Are matters so dire?”
If Ronan asked him to leave, Hobbes would do just that. He thought about it. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Hobbes was a good man. He just cared more for Ronan than, well, anyone else did. Ronan ran his tongue across his teeth and remembered the honeyed taste of brandy. Maybe it was time he did start drinking again. Maybe Hobbes was wrong about him.
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”
“That’s a shame to hear,” Hobbes commented before coming in further. He picked up the glass and sniffed it curiously. But he didn’t set it back down and instead moved it toward the bookcase. “I suppose the weather is getting to the heart of us all.”
Ronan sighed heavily. “Is it?”
“Yes. The household was quieter than usual. Oliver didn’t shout often. And even the duchess herself was withdrawn. Perhaps even sad,” he added slowly, gently.
Thinking about the woman who had left him a short while ago, Ronan brushed it off. It wasn’t his doing whatever she felt. “She’s merely adjusting. That’s all. The lady is a duchess now, isn’t she? There’s no reason for her to be unhappy.”
If he could survive all he had, then so could she. That was what Ronan told himself. He stared hard at the teacup before him and tried to forget the warm thick taste of brandy.
Never again would he enjoy a drop of heavy drink. He couldn’t trust himself. He wouldn’t dare. Not now that he had a child to care for. Poor Oliver. If only his sister hadn’t died. If only she was still there for them. What was Ronan even doing? He didn’t have a clue. All his plans were coming together and yet nothing worked as he meant for it to happen.
I didn’t even say good bye to her.
“Your Grace?”
Ronan grunted, lost in thought while he stared at the cup. It wasn’t often he allowed himself to reflect on the past. Especially not when it came to her. He couldn’t bear to even think her name over the hurt it caused.
How a single argument could spiral out of control, Ronan hardly understood. He had been a drunken fool. He was a lost soul and his sister had grasped that better than him. It was her home, the cottage he had gifted her, but she had left. And one carriage accident later.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Jerking his head up, Ronan scowled at his butler. “Do not talk about what you don’t know.”
“You think I know nothing?” Sympathy shined in the man’s expression, only making the heavy guilt in Ronan’s stomach weigh him down further. “I see you are trying, Your Grace. Youhave done your best for your nephew, and you take care of your estates and your tenants.”
He waved off the false compliment. “I don’t need to hear this from you. Besides, you’re not due for a raise, Hobbes. You can go now.”
Except he didn’t. The old butler chided him gently, “You don’t need to keep living in the past. You’re a married man now. There is a future before you. All you have to do is open your eyes.” He paused before eventually adding, “You are so close to having a good life, Ronan. She cares for you, you see. It’s clear to everyone but you.”
