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His words were surprisingly raw. Honest. I was afraid of saying the wrong thing in response; I wanted to treat his words with the care they deserved. I could tell it wasn’t often that he had this kind of conversation… neither did I.
“I understand.” I said simply, looking into his blue eyes.
And, in my own way, I did.
My parents had loved me. My father, with his tawny brown hair and hazel eyes, had been a kind man – a hard worker and an adept steward. He had worked his way up from nothing, achieving a scholarship to Oxford, despite being a mere farm boy. And my mother… she had been nurturing and empathetic. She’d washed up my childhood scrapes and taught me how to sew in the light of our blazing fireplace.
I had known nothing but love as a child. Love and security.
And now, I knew very little of either of those things.
My parents had been taken from me too early. And to this day, I couldn’t even talk about their deaths, apart from the simple fact that they were gone. I avoided their memory because it was just too painful. I knew that my future was bleak… and remembering the kind of love, the kind of happiness, that I had once had…
It was simply too depressing.
So yes, I understood where Will was coming from.
I just hadn’t turned to alcohol to forget the pain of my past.
“It’s strange… we lost touch, but in some ways, our lives took similar paths.” I said slowly, watching him carefully.
He was staring out the window into the dark night beyond, his eyes slightly glazed over.
“What happened to us wasn’t fair. Our parents… I’m sorry, Will.”
Instead of accepting the apology, he simply laughed. It wasn’t the jovial laughs I was used to hearing from him, though.
It was a dark laugh. Bitter.
“Don’t be. I was happy to see my father go.”
“You can’t mean that-”
“Do you know anything about the former Lord Marsden?” Will asked, suddenly looking at me, his gaze almost… accusatory.
I shook my head, feeling suddenly meek.
“He was cruel. Unfeeling and unliked. A rake in his youth, as well, though not the nice kind. You can ask anyone in the ton, they would say the same.”
He stared down at his flask.
“Also, a drunk. That’s at least one thing I inherited from him.” He smiled in a sarcastic sort of way, and it didn’t reach his eyes.
“But your mother…” I said quietly, the carriage rocking below us as it sped over the dirt-packed highway.
Will looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
“In the years you lived at Rosehill, do you ever remember meeting my mother? Even once?”
I opened my mouth to speak… but then realized, I really wasn’t sure. I must have met the Lady Marsden, right? I had seen her portrait plenty of times… the beautiful, cascading blonde hair, and her blue eyes, like forget-me-nots on a summer’s day…
I was able to tease one, maybe two memories out of the deep recesses of my brain. They were from my early childhood. Considering I had lived at Rosehill for fourteen years, the lack of memories of the Lady Marsden was… bizarre.
The Lord took my extended silence as a no. He laughed darkly, taking another swig from his flask. It appeared to be the last, and he tossed the metal container onto the bench with a glare.
“Indeed.”
“But, surely, you miss her-”
