Page 33 of Rejected
“You mean apart from being a wastrel and a good-for-nothing son?” Justin hissed. The vicar was mumbling on about dust and ashes.
“What?” Jo asked. Had the boy lost his ever-loving mind?
“I overheard Father speaking to you last night,” he whispered—a tad too loudly for propriety, but Jo was too busy drowning in guilt and panic to care. He had heard?Oh no. “I was in the house, you know. I was actually coming back, hell-bent on speak with him, as he had looked particularly frail, and I did not want to leave for town without—”
Jo remembered the rustling of the curtain. It had not been the wind—it had been her brother. Her heart sank as she remembered some of the things her father had said about him.
“He did not mean what he said,” she tried to say.
“Oh, he did, my dear. I am a wastrel and a waste, and entirely unsuited for the title, which he was loath to see me inherit anyway—”
“Justin, stop talking this instant.” Right there, not caring who could see, she gripped her brother by his shoulders—when had they grown so wide and sinuous?—and looked straight into his bloodshot eyes. She had not noticed how absolutely tormented they looked before. “Listen to me. Father loved you, and you are more than worthy of being a viscount. A prince, if you so choose. Those words you heard… Forget them, I beg you. They mean nothing. They should never have been uttered—they are not the truth.”
Justin dropped his gaze. Laughed that new, ugly laugh of his.
Jo’s heart broke. She gently grasped his sleeve, but he shook her hand away.
“That is absolute balderdash, and you know it,” he said. “It was the absolute truth, and the man meant every single word.”
“Justin, no, you—”
“You do not talk back to me,” he said to her harshly, stumbling a bit. “Not in public, at least. In private, you can still beat me in a fight, I’ll give you that. But in public, I am now Viscount Vidal, and have to comport myself accordingly.”
“Right,” a voice said from behind them. “Time to disgrace the family name, eh, Vidal?”
Jo barely had time to realize her brother’s intention, much less stop him, before he turned around and planted a facer on the gentleman who had spoken the words.
Two grown men had to pull the new viscount off, and the other gentleman had a broken nose before the end of the funeral. Jo barely had time to think of saying goodbye to her father as they lowered him to the earth.
All she could think of was that she now knew the reason why women were not allowed at funerals: men tended to behave entirely inappropriately at them.
That, and how pale and drawn Laurie looked.
He was standing in the front row, somberly witnessing her father’s coffin being prayed over. He had not looked her way once since he first arrived.
It had been months since she had last seen him—they had never been apart for this long. She barely recognized him. His black hair had grown long, and he wore a diamond earring in the way very wealthy young gentlemen did in Vienna, to show off their youth and wealth. He looked thinner and paler, and even more devastatingly handsome. But this wasn’t her Teddy.
She remembered how he had been surrounded by women every single time she had seen him in London, and realized that he had not been ‘her Teddy’ for years before now. No, it was not Teddy. It wasn’t even Laurie. It was Lord Lowry, and then some.
To think I have kissed those lips. To think that these hands have been on my—No! That train of thought needs to stop this instant.
He had lost some weight, but he was taller than a few months ago, if possible. His face was carved in granite, and completely white.
Thank goodness I am not in love with him. Imagine what a disaster that would be.
Still, it would have been nice if he had at least glanced at her. He did not, even when the ceremony was over. He somehow managed to offer his condolences without even turning his head in her general direction.
His body was coiled and rigid.
“Are you leaving again soon?” Jo asked him, even though he had already turned his back to herand appeared to have the intention of leaving as fast as his legs could carry him.
“I sail in an hour,” he replied, looking out into the distance.
He could not make it any more obvious that it was intolerable for him to be in her presence—or in her part of the country, for that matter.
“Do not leave, I…” A sob worked its way to Jo’s throat, and she tried to swallow it.Stop being pathetic, she admonished herself, disgusted.
Laurie stepped away, his mouth twisted. She was beginning to believe it in earnest, that merely being in her vicinity was distasteful to him.
