It was not as if he could actually love her one day. Could he? No. Certainly not for the rest of his life. He hadn’t ever loved someone. Not like that. Even for a short amount of time.
Harriet had not expressed any desire for theirs to be a love match, he reminded himself.Hewas the one following her around like a lovesick fool, forcing her to move into his home, setting books aside for her, hanging on her every word, telling her about his mother, wanting her in his bedto sleep next to.
Oh, bloody hell.
He had feelings for her.
Which was incredibly inconvenient. Thank God above he hadn’t gone to John. John would have seen right through him before Alexander even crossed the threshold.
What was he meant to do?
Alexander knew only three ways to rid oneself of unwanted feelings. It was too late for fencing, and he was intelligent enough to know that fucking another woman would simply complicate the matter. Which left him with one choice: White’s.
Brandy-soaking his emotions was not going as well as he’d hoped. He was on his second glass and the knot of panic in his chest hadn’t eased. How was he going to keep this truth from Harriet for the rest of their lives? How was he to ensure his affliction didn’t worsen? Had she offered again for him to have her, he would have taken her, and then surely he’d be done for. He realized there was going to be no satiation. The idea of having her once and being inoculated was delusional.
What if he told her? He could say … What could he say? And what would she say in return? “You poor idiot,” probably. If she were wise, she’d leave him now. She’d surely stop asking for help with her quim and suggesting friendship and giving him kisses on his cheek.
Hell. Hell. Hell.
Alexander was so engrossed in his line of thought that he hardly noticed a footman walking toward him, his brother John trailing close behind. He’d never seen John at White’s. He hadn’t seen John in London in years.
“Just the man I was trying to avoid!” Alexander let out, lifting his glass in a sardonic cheer.
“You’ve done exceedingly well at it so far,” John volleyed back.
“You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“I paid my dues like all the other dissipated silk-stockings tarrying about.”
“You pay dues here?”
“As of tonight,” John explained off-handedly. He reached down and took the half-full glass of brandy Alexander had been sipping and handed it to the footman, then waved the man off without ordering anything.
“I meant you ought not to be in town. Not good for the lungs.”
“Much harsher on the mind, I’ve found,” John quipped, looking around the club with undisguised revulsion.
“You’re meant to order a drink, West,” Alexander explained, using the nickname of his brother’s courtesy title.
“You’ve had quite enough for the both of us for the conversation I intend to have.” Alexander huffed out a laugh. He wasn’tthatdeep in his cups. Unfortunately.
“Oh dear, am I in trouble?”
“Routinely,” John said, crossing one leg over the other and clasping his hands in his lap. “Now, when were you going to tell me about your marriage?”
He knew?
“Are you still corresponding with Presley? I told you to quit checking up on me! And I toldhimto stop being a snitch.”
“They do deliver papers to my house, you know. And correspondence too, when people can be bothered to write,” John said pointedly.
“I have been remiss as of late. I am sorry.” He was. Truly, he was, but at the moment he was more concerned. “Why are you here in the middle of the night, West?”
“I tried your house first. I was informed I’d find you here.” There was a tone of disappointment in John’s voice, which made no sense. He’d been like this for ages now, and John had never once scolded him. “It’s Mother. I received a letter.”
Alexander’s heart started pounding. Their mother did not write. Not even to ask for money. The last time he’d seen her, in Paris, she’d expressed confusion as to why Alexander had sought her out. When he’d suggested that they might form some type of amiable rapport, if not familial feelings for one another, she had summarily declined.I’m not certain I see the point now, she had said.
“Burn it. There’s nothing that letter could possibly contain that could be of any significance. She has had no interest in us, and I will gladly return the favor.”
