Page 70 of Again, Scoundrel

Whereas Alistair had been born to… make his own way, he supposed. To sleep alone in naval hammocks. Or on settees. Whatever moderately soft surface was available would probably do.

“Alistair,” Pembrooke said. “Convince her to come. I’ll marry her cousin, and I’ll invest in your company with the marriage funds.”

Alistair let out a bark of laughter. This inane plan was too similar to McGann’s inane plan. Neither would work. Although his proposal hadn’t either and it had had nothing to do with money. He’d just wanted Violet.

And she’d wanted… what?

He didn’t know.

The realization fell like a timber on his chest, squeezing all the air out.

I never asked what she wanted.

He’d told her of his dreams and his plans and never once asked about her own.

“Hell’s teeth,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?” Pembrooke said.

“Nothing.”

Alistair rose, trying to shake the brandy and last night’s whisky from his mind. “You’re on your own, Pembrooke. I can no more force the lady’s hand than you can.”

Pembrooke frowned. “At least try, Crawford. Ask her. You’ve been invited too, don’t forget. You could spend some time with her. Alone. Make it where she’d have to have you. And then we’d both have fortunes.”

“Go to hell.”

He turned on his heel and left. He’d made a hash of everything. Again. He might be able to fix it, but this time he wouldn’t show up empty-handed.

“Lord Alistair Crawford.” Jess sat up in bed and eyed him. “You’re here early today. And looking rested.”

“Why, Jess.” He raised his eyebrow at the girl. “Is that a euphemism for sober?”

“It is. You shouldn’t drink so much, and you know it. It ruined my da’.”

“I know,” he said. “I reneged on my promise to stop, and I paid the price for that. I’ll not do it again.”

Jess studied him intently before she replied. “It won’t be easy, you know. Papa tried too, more than once. He was much further gone than you, though.”

“I’ll put an end to it. I excel at endings. Trust me.”

“Glad to hear it.” She grinned at him. “Does make me wonder why you’ve got the idea to change now.”

“I’ve no idea what you mean,” Alistair said, and this time the girl raised her eyebrow at him. “Don’t you?” she asked.

“You’re too young for cheek, miss.”

“I’ve given birth, sirrah,” Jess shot back at him, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, a look of pain swept across her small, delicate features.

“Oh, Jess, I am sorry,” Alistair said. “Can I get you anything? Tea? Biscuits?”

“No. I’m as fine as I can be. Sooner or later, it will hurt less. I hope.”

Alistair reached for her hand and held it, noticing how small it looked in his large grip. “I’m sure that’s true. Everything hurts less eventually.”

He hoped that was true, too. For both of them. No child should endure what she had. And she was a child, at ten and four years.

Nearly the same age as me when I left home.