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Percy smiled grimly. He should have known that word would get around a small town like this. Everyone knew everyone else’s business.
“If I were you, I would not waste your time with her,” she continued, rolling her eyes, looking amused. “She is practically a confirmed spinster, my lord. I do believe she has taken a vow just like a nun.” She burst into a peel of laughter.
Percy stiffened. The undertone of the lady’s comments and the laughter were a bit unkind.
“You do not like Lady Jane?” he asked, frowning.
“Oh, I did not say that,” she said archly. “Jane is perfectly agreeable. Although rather odd, she is harmless. I just think you should know what she is like. That is all.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“I see,” said Percy, absorbing the comment.
They reached the dance floor. The music commenced. Miss Prescott smiled at him prettily the whole time, but he couldn’t even focus upon her. All he could think about was Lady Jane.
Why did she spurn all suitors? Marianne had told him as much. Miss Prescott had confirmed it. He thought of Marianne’s comment about the old friend of Jane’s, who had lived next door to her since childhood. Did he have anything to do with it?
He resolved he would ask her about her decision the next chance he got. He didn’t even want to analyse why the thought of her secretly in love with another man caused him disquiet. He told himself he simply wanted to understand her, to size up the competition, if there indeed was any. Or at least break down the walls she seemed to have built up around herself in regard to contemplating matrimony. He was just being thorough. That was all.
***
That night, back at the lodging house, Percy couldn’t sleep. Eventually, he got up, walking out onto the balcony adjoining his room, staring out over the sea.
He sighed deeply, watching a lighthouse in the far distance, its light flickering on and off. The moon was huge in the sky, pure white and luminescent, casting rippling light over the sea. He took a deep breath. He knew he had made the right decision buying a house here. Seaborne was indeed magical. A far cry from Brighton and an entire world away from London.
Suddenly, he thought of his father. The old man had never much liked sleepy towns—he had preferred the cosmopolitan life in London. He claimed that it was because there was so much culture there, opera and ballet and recitals. But Percy knew now that there were other, more secret reasons why his father had spent so much time in the capital, leaving his wife and son to languish on their country estate.
Percy’s heart somersaulted. It had always upset his mother, who had pleaded with her husband to stay in the country with his family, or at least for them to accompany him on his many trips to London. But his father always had an excuse as to why he couldn’t do either. Percy had never understood when he had been a boy, but he knew now that itwasjust excuses.
His father had stayed away from them because he wanted to. It was as simple as that. His father stayed away and never wanted them to join him in London because he had a whole life there that he didn’t want his family to know about.
Percy shifted on his feet, gazing out to sea, without seeing a thing. His mother had never known what it was really about. She remained ignorant her entire marriage, and Percy didn’t see the need to enlighten her now. It would only hurt her immensely. Let her cling to her adoration of his father if it gave her comfort. Let her believe that the old man had loved her as much as she had loved him.
Percy’s heart shifted in his chest. He knew the truth of it. As a young man, he had discovered, by accident, that his father kept two mistresses in London, between whom he shuffled during his time in the capital. One was a famous opera singer, and the other was a ballet dancer. No wonder his father claimed he loved culture so much.
Percy had confronted his father, who, to his shock, had simply laughed it off, claiming that a man had appetites which must be scratched. Hurt on behalf of his devoted mother, Percy had asked him directly if he had ever loved her. To his chagrin, the old man had scoffed, claiming love was just a fairy tale.
Something that women needed for some odd reason. His father had given him the advice to never fall for such trickery. Keep things simple. Play the field. Marry for convenience and keep your affairs hidden on the side. Keep the wife blissfully ignorant. Such was the recipe for a happy life.
But Percy had remembered the time when he had been a lad, catching his mother crying. He had asked why she was sad. She had told him it was because she missed his father so much.
She had told him how much they loved each other, that his father had told her she was the only woman he loved or could ever love. She said the memory of that was what got her through his long, continual absences from their lives, but he could see how hurt she was that his father didn’t want to spend time with her, or with their son.
Percy watched a star shooting through the night sky, its tail trailing specks of light dust. He felt inordinately sad, thinking about his mother and that a large part of her life had been an illusion. She had believed that his father loved her just as fiercely as she loved him—but he never had.
He had lied to her and betrayed her, hoodwinked her, for the sake of peace in his life. And the result was that she had spent her entire life chasing him, seeking his affection. She had been miserable for most of her life because of the man she loved.
That was what love did to a person.
After he had discovered his father’s duplicity, his whole other life, Percy had made a promise to himself. He would never fall in love nor pretend to feel it. When he married, it would be for convenience. He would never tell a woman he loved her or pretend to love her just to pacify her and get what he wanted. He would never treat a woman like his father had treated his mother. That way, no hearts would ever be broken. Not his—and not anyone else’s heart, either.
Everything was safer that way.
A simpler life that was unencumbered by deep emotional feeling and hurt. Or so it had seemed at the time. But now, something was changing. As if the ice that enshrouded his heart was melting, just a little. And he didn’t like the feeling at all.
Chapter 14
Jane’s feet dragged as she trailed behind Marianne and Lucy on the pier. Her cousin had insisted this morning over breakfast that they promenade today. Lucy had claimed primly that promenading the day after a ball was the way to follow up on any budding bond that may have been formed the night before. See and be seen was Lucy’s motto.
Jane felt sour and out of sorts and longed to be alone, taking a solitary walk along the beach with her sketchbook. She didn’t feel like stopping every few metres to make idle small talk with every person they encountered. But that, of course, was the intention of promenading—as well as observing other people to gossip about them. Something that Lucy loved to do more than almost anything in the world.
