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It was an idle question, thrown between two cousins who hadn’t spoken to one another in a decade, but it was also so much more. Although Reginald was far from ready to admit what had happened that fateful night, he wanted to know if it loomed as largely in his cousin’s mind as it did in his.
“The past can only pursue you if you let it,” Simon said. “Don’t let it. I should think that’s simple enough.”
“Only to a man who has neither regrets nor troubles in his past,” Reginald muttered. “Only to a man who is free of any consequences, likely due to the high position of his birth.”
“A man like yourself, then,” Simon said.
“No, a man like you,” Reginald replied.
Even as he said it, though, Reginald couldn’t force away the sharp prick of shame that he felt. Hadn’t his position saved him from a long imprisonment and potentially his life? He’d still be rotting in a filthy cell if it hadn’t been for his father.
But it hardly counts if it was not a choice I made of my own will. If I’d had options, I would’ve accepted the consequences of my actions.
He could not be wholly sure that was true, however. Would he have truly preferred facing potential death to having his father save him? It was all confusing. Reginald felt as if by accepting rescue, he no longer belonged in the world of highwaymen and the working-class of London, but he certainly didn’t belong with theton.
Maybe I don’t belong anywhere.
Across the floor, Reginald’s father stood beside Lady Marcella’s father, beaming at everyone who passed. It seemed that Reginald had finally managed to please his father.
A pity I’ve only pleased him by agreeing to this absurd engagement.
It was difficult to be truly angry with the man, though. He looked so much older than he ought to, but the night had still invigorated him. His face was flushed with color, and he laughed heartily. Reginald forced his gaze to remain on his father’s face, despite the fierce, all-consuming guilt which spread like fire through his whole being.
“How is your mother?” Reginald asked. “What has changed with her since I left?”
“She’s well enough,” Simon said, sounding irritated.
He was probably upset that Reginald wished to talk about something other than his cousin.
“I think it would do her good to marry again. She’s been quite morose since Father’s passing, but I’ve been taking care of her.”
He wouldn’t be taking care of his mother for long if he continued to manage his finances so poorly. Reginald didn’t say that, though. Living in poverty had made him bitter and disillusioned, but it hadn’t made him cruel. He remembered all too sharply the death of his own mother, and having lost his own father, he understood Simon’s desire to care for his mother far too well.
“Of course, we’ll see how our fortunes change,” Simon replied.
“You sound so distraught that I’ve returned,” Reginald said.
Simon grimaced. “I see that you’ve lost all your manners in your long absence. It’s as if you always speak the first thing which comes to your mind with no consideration of how your words might impact others.”
Reginald was beginning to feel as though everyone disagreed with him at every turn. The only person who’d seemed to agree even a little with him was the young woman whom he’d seen in the garden. At present, she stood near the wall, speaking with another young lady. That was probably her dearest friend. He could tell from how they leaned their heads close together when they spoke.
“I’m beginning to feel as though you can’t decide whether I’m a romantic hero or a ruffian,” Reginald replied.
Simon sighed. “You tire me, cousin. That’s what I think, but soon, you’ll remember how you’re supposed to see life, and then, we’ll get along like we did when we were boys.”
Reginald’s lips twitched into a small smile. “You mean, we’ll act as if we’re two stable cats fighting over a bit of fish?”
“Perhaps not. I don’t fancy fighting over a bit of fish, and I generally avoid fighting. You’d win; of that, I’m quite sure. I never fight battles where I’m utterly outmatched.”
“A wise strategy.”
Simon would’ve been appalled to see the fighting rings Reginald had, where both men and women fought one another with their fists. Reginald himself had never fought in those matches, but he’d seen a handful. Charles was quite good in combat.
His cousin cleared his throat. “At any rate, a gentleman ought to win his battles with words, rather than with violence. Don’t you think?”
“It depends on the situation.”
It was fairly obvious that Simon would’ve been one of those young men who turned a simple, bloodless robbery into a tragic affair. He had that sort of feeling to him. Despite his professed love for solving his disputes with words, Simon had always been impulsive, although not so much as Reginald himself.
