Page 67 of Any Rogue Will Do
Ethan motioned to Darling. He had a feeling there was much he didn’t know about the situation compared to Lottie’s maid.
“Well, it all started with the wedding gown. She and Lady Agatha went to the modiste, and Lottie wasn’t the same after. I don’t think she slept that night. Then the next day she received that letter from her father forbidding the match.”
Ah yes, the letter. That at least he knew about. He didn’t understand how a wedding dress might have set Lottie on a path of calling everything off. He’d love to know what the earl said in his letter, though. “The next day she wrote and ended everything.”
Cal swung to look at him. “What? She ended it? What reason did the earl give for denying you? Doesn’t the man know you love her to distraction?”
Before Ethan could answer, Darling wiped her mouth and said, “Well, she didn’t have much choice, did she? When the earl says he’ll cut her off without a penny if she marries you, she knows to listen. At least this way she gets to keep her dowry and family. It killed her to make that decision, but he’d backed her into a corner.”
Cut her off? Ethan sat back in the chair as the air left his lungs. It made sense now. No wonder she’d ended things. With such harsh consequences on the line, finding a way to marry despite the earl would be too great a risk.
“I don’t think she liked it, but milady is resilient. We were planning our return home when Montague attacked us,” Darling said.
“Wait, she was going back to Westmorland?” Cal voiced the thought that made Ethan frown. She’d planned to slip from London without seeing him in person.
“We were to leave by the end of the week. She hadn’t told Lady Agatha yet,” Darling said.
“During this time, you never saw Montague or heard anything relevant tae today?” Ethan pressed.
“I’m sorry. That’s everything.” Darling set her fork down, then finished her drink. “If you think of any other questions, I’m happy to answer. But I’m as shocked by all this as you are.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Darling. Get some rest. We need tae be on the road at first light.” Ethan stood when she did and cut her a small bow. Looking bemused, she said good night.
Cal stayed quiet when Ethan took his seat and drained the mug of ale before him. Outside, night had fallen in earnest, with only small areas of the stable yard illuminated by lamps for late-arriving customers.
The church bell in the cathedral tower chimed the hour. Eight, nine, ten.
“I meant tae beg, you know,” he told Cal. “I planned tae ride in all self-righteous and more than a wee bit desperate and do whatever it took tae change her mind. Didn’ know the earl cut her off, though. I can’t ask Lottie tae turn her back on her father. He’s all she has left.”
“I’m sorry, Ethan. I didn’t know she’d ended it.”
A laugh escaped him, the sound utterly without humor. “All this time I’ve been trying tae make up for the past, but it doesn’ matter tae the likes of the earl. There’s no going back or fixing it.” Five years without hard alcohol or a woman. Five years of telling himself no, because he needed to be a better man—one who didn’t hurt people with his careless words and bad decisions. And during that time, Connor had forgiven him. Over time, even Lottie had softened. She’d shared her body and her bed, but he didn’t think he’d reached her heart.
The only ones hating him now were the earl and himself.
“No, my friend. There’s no going back. Only forward. We can awake every day, determined to be good men, then follow through. That’s as far as our control goes.” Cal signaled the barkeeper for a drink.
Holding up two fingers, Ethan ordered himself one too. Five years of no whisky for a Scotsman was long enough. He’d spent each day living with the fear that he’d lose control. Well, he might not be able to control much, but he could reclaim this.
“Are you sure?” Cal asked when the drinks arrived.
The amber liquid reflected the light in the glass. Benign. Like so many things in life, something he could use for good or evil. A pleasure to enjoy or to overindulge and suffer the consequences. Ethan didn’t have the craving disease, like Lottie’s coachman and others he’d known. These years hadn’t been about making healthier choices for himself. They’d been a form of self-flagellation. Was he sure? “Aye. This all comes down tae fear and hating myself for what I’ve done. I’m tired, Cal. So bloody tired.”
“So just like that, you decide five years of penance is enough?”
Ethan rested his head on his fist, staring at the glass. “Can you tell me what more I can do? I mean it. Name one thing I can do tae make everything right, and I’ll do it. I’ll do it standing on my head while shoutin’ ‘God Save the King.’” The words had to fight past a throat tight with regrets. “I used tae be an arse, but I’m no’ that man anymore. People depend on me for their livelihood, see? Besides, turns out I can make bad decisions sober as well.” Like giving his heart to a woman never meant to be his.
Cal’s expression remained neutral as he raised his glass. “To doing all we can.”
Ethan touched the rim of his glass to Cal’s. “Tae being better men.”
The whisky burned as it went down. He had no desire for another.
***
As the sun set, it became apparent that rescue would not arrive as soon as Lottie would wish. With no way to calculate how far ahead they were of whomever Darling had alerted, she kept her ears open but found the day wearing on her. Yes, Darling was healthy and raising hell on her behalf—Lottie could not contemplate the alternative. She must not give up hope.
Someone would come. Soon.
