Page 104 of Again, Scoundrel

“Enter,” the Marquess’s deep voice called when Alistair knocked on the door.

“Father,” Alistair said. “Mother said you were waiting for me.”

“Did she?” A look of confusion passed over his face before it settled again. “Well, I suppose she’s right.”

“I’m happy to leave you in peace if this is a misunderstanding,” Alistair said. “Violet will wake any moment. I’d like to be there when she does.”

“Sit,” the Marquess commanded, and Alistair did. “There’s no misunderstanding. I may not have been waiting on you at this moment, but I have been waiting on you for nearly ten damned years.”

“I do not understand what you mean.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Tell me, do you plan to marry the girl?”

“If she’ll have me.”

“Will she?” His father looked him up and down. “You’ve quit drinking, I see. That’s an improvement.”

Alistair made to stand. “I’ll pass on the recriminations, if it’s all the same to you. I’ve other things to do with my time.”

There was no reason he could see to sit here and listen to his father tell him all the things he’d heard a thousand times before. That Alistair had made poor choices. That he drank too much. That he ought to marry and settle down and leave his life aboard a sailing ship behind.

He knew all of these things. Hell, he’d been endeavoring to undertake all of these things. But he didn’t think his efforts would matter. They never saw eye to eye, he and the Marquess.

“Stay, son. Please,” the Marquess said. “I have something to say.”

Alistair had never once heard his father say please. The shock of it made him sit back down.

“Go on then,” he said and thought of Violet. Of how she’d made him think of his family in a new way. And of his brother, who he didn’t know at all. But he’d like to.

“I used to think your life was only about chasing pleasure,” the Marquess began. “The drinking and the women.”

“It’s not,” Alistair spit out, interrupting.

“I see that. I see you making your own way.”

Alistair nodded. “I am trying.”

“That’s good.” And then, “Darius said you and he had spoken.”

“We have.”

“And he has told you about his predicament? You understand now.”

Alistair eyed his father. “I am glad,” he said evenly, “that you and Darius have reached an accord. I truly am. But let me be clear that you and I have not.”

The Marquess ignored that. “Alistair,” he said, “I am bad at this. Fathering. And I am more than aware I’ve made my share of mistakes. But I have learned something important too, and it is that being loved is one of life’s great pleasures. It is the only one worth pursuing.”

He looked at Alistair intently. “What I am trying to say is that I am glad to see you pursuing it.”

Alistair could only stare back at his father. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”

“No, as I said, I have not been good at this. Let us only say that I did not have a good example from my own father. But I have been a good husband, in spite of that. I have loved your mother and she me.”

The Marquess paused. “That means more to me than you might know. I used to think the coronet was the most treasured possession of this family, but I was wrong. Now I know that love is my most treasured possession. Your mother is my most treasured possession. She is the crown jewel of the Marquessate. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?”

“No.”

Alistair was in fact dumbfounded by this turn of conversation. They had never, not once in all of his years, had a conversation that began to approach the subject of a feeling, much less love.