“If more sunlight gets into my eyes, I am sure what’s between them will be dribbling out of them soon,” Daniel replied. “Shut the drapes.”
He waited until he heard the rustling of the drapes and felt the dimness of the room, before Daniel dared open his eyes. Ben was standing at the window, his light-brown hair wind tossed, his gray waistcoat immaculate, and his posture erect enough for Daniel to feel jealous.
Managing to sit up without his head swimming, Daniel asked, “I’ll have to beg off the fencing.”
“No, you will not,” Ben said, “I’m sympathetic to your plight—”
Daniel snorted, “No, you aren’t.”
“No, I really am not,” Ben shrugged. “But that is your fault. What happened last night?”
Feeling his stomach roll, Daniel swung his feet out from under the blankets and to the carpet and managed to stand. “Last night was a desperate attempt to rekindle any sort of carnal pleasure—it didn’t work.”
Ben did look sympathetic then, “In other words, none of the doxies at the brothel drew any arousal out of you.”
Moving behind a partition where a basin and a jug of water rested, Daniel washed his face. “Essentially.”
“You need a different sort of entertainment, My Friend,” Ben said. “You do know that there are things outside of bawdy houses and rouged doxies.”
Daniel shot him a look, “I have no desire for stuffy assembly rooms, or the opera, or God forbid—”
“A ball,” Benjamin interrupted, ignoring the glare Daniel aimed at him. “I know what’s best for you. I’m taking you to a ball.”
“The hell you are,” Daniel grumbled. “I’d prefer to fence with you and lose the contents of my stomach on your shoes, before I ever step foot into a ballroom. You know I despise balls. There is a reason I prefer dark brothels and gaming halls—it’s calledanonymity. No one gives a damn who I am, so no rumors follow; all I need to do is pay up.”
Ben wrinkled his nose, “Since my shoes are new, I’ll put off the fencing match, if you come to my sister’s ball tonight. You have to show your face somewhere outside of a brothel or a gaming hall, you know.”
“Why?” Daniel asked darkly. “So, more people can gossip about me?”
Ben’s face fell in questioning contemplation, “Did something happen last night? Did you seeher?”
“No, God no,” Daniel snapped, then his tone dipped to tired. “She is probably halfway across the world by now, but I did see someone like her. Had me running out of there as if my boots were on fire.”
Ben rested a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry. But, please come with me to the ball. I have another invitation, and though I know it’s not what you would prefer, I don’t want you to stay and moor yourself in a sea of regrets.”
Taking a seat, Daniel rubbed his face with his hands. It did feel paltry to sit at home and celebrate the cheerful holiday—which was an alien concept for him, as his family had rarely had happy moments—but even so, was a public ball the best way to go?
His eyes lifted to the room, and he could see himself sitting in a chair near the window, gazing at the moon with a bottle of wine in his hand while wallowing in self sorrow.
Do I truly want self-pity? To sink in sorrow as I have been in the past two years? To wake up and repeat the cycle ad infinitum?
“Would it be so appalling, to attend a ball or dinner party every now and then?” Benjamin pressed lightly. “You’re not a monk, My Friend.”
After unclenching his jaw, Daniel said, “Fine, fine, I’ll go.”
“Excellent,” Ben said, “you won’t regret it, I promise. Now, let me get you that coffee.”
With Ben gone, Daniel slumped in the seat and stared at the crown molding on the ceiling with a lot of apathy. Was this truly how he wanted to live—alone, with bricks of sorrow, regret, and shame pressing down on his heart?
Is there any hope for me to live a normal life?
“Coffee,” Ben announced from the doorway, “blacker and bitterer than tar. I relieved your valet as I didn’t think you’d want to be seen this way.”
Taking the cup, Daniel sipped it, grimacing at the taste but glad that it was banishing the discomfort in his stomach. “They’ve seen me in worse stages, you nodcock. So, is this sister of yours the one who married Carrington?”
“The very same,” Benjamin replied. “Surprised me too that a elegant man like him married my sister. Martha is a homemaker with a nervous disposition, and she is a bit fragile. But they’ve vowed to love each other so—” he shrugged.
“I’d say she made the worst decision for her constitution,” Daniel replied. “He is known as a rake.”
