Page 75 of Enemies with an Earl
I must apologize for my abrupt departure. Or perhaps I should say departures. I’m not sure if you remember—you probably don’t—but I left in a similar manner last year. That one was definitely cowardice. This one isn’t. Well, I suppose it is in a way. But this time I wanted to explain.
I’m not sure if this is something you care about at all, and I feel foolish writing this because a person doesn’t write an explanatory note to a casual liaison. But here I am doing it, anyway. I swear I’ve lost my mind over here. I’m not sure what’s happened to me, besides an infestation of botflies, perhaps. Dear Lord, what am I saying in this blasted note?
What I mean to say is, I wanted you to know that I have some things in my past that I have struggled to move beyond. I thought I could with you. And I think you can probably piece together, based on what passed between us a few days ago… Clearly, I haven’t. I’m not so sure I’ll ever be able to.
But I wanted to assure you this has everything to do with me, and nothing to do with you. Which I’m sure you also know. We both know how highly you think of your…abilities. And while I don’t necessarily want to feed into your high opinion of yourself, I’ll confirm you are correct to boast.
Anyhow, it’s time for me to make the journey back home. I have some things I need to work through for myself. But I would be remiss if I didn’t let you know that while this may have been casual, it meant a great deal to me. You gave me back something I wasn’t sure I would ever have again. So, I want to say thank you.
I’m sorry for the way our week ended. But I’m not sorry it happened. And if I could do it all over again, with it ending the same way, I’d do it again. But only if it was with you.
For now, I need to be home. I need familiar. I need comfort. My place of safety. I should have at least said farewell in person. You deserved that from me. That’s where my cowardice is shining through again. I won’t get into the reasons why I didn’t. But I don’t think it would have been good for either of us.
I wish you all the best.
Bentley
The letter fluttered to Sam’s lap, and he dropped his head into his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut. All that talking his mind had been doing? It was bloody right. It was too late for Sam. The bruised throbbing organ in his chest was proof of that. The most bittersweet pain wrapped around his lungs and tightened.
He understood why Felix had to go. He was going throughsomethingand needed to be where he felt at ease. Sam couldn’t fault the man for that. He knew exactly how important it was to have a place where one felt safe. He’d seen the deterioration of the indomitable Earl of Bentley. Sam hoped the man found what he needed to get well. The emptiness inside his chest grew. And what Bentley needed was clearly not Sam.
And if I could do it all over again, with it ending the same way, I’d do it again. But only if it was with you.
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and willed the burn to fade. It hurt now, but he knew it would pass. Before he knew it, he’d be looking at this all as a fond memory. He was being daft, but he couldn’t stop the acidic taste from coating his tongue. The one that tasted like worthlessness. Like not being enough.
This was exactly why Sam avoided entanglements. As much as he kept himself closed off, as much as he never let anyone past the cavalier, insouciant exterior he’d created, apparently the heart no one else wanted…still yearned for the impossible.
He stood and walked up to the hearth. It was better to learn it now, that whatever small spark had lit inside Sam was so easily doused by Bentley. Because if it hurt now, it would only hurt that much more if Sam truly let his feelings get the best of him.
He knew how that ended.
How it always did: Abandoned. Betrayed. Broken.
He tossed the letter onto the glowing coals, the parchment instantly curling, black eating away Bentley’s words until nothing but ash remained. Sam could relate to that slip of parchment. His family had done the same to his heart all those years ago.
Bentley leaving earlier rather than later was a blessing, really.
A really depressing blessing.
Part Four
September 1817
38
Sam
Devonford Castle.
Four months later…
Why was it always grey and rainy in England? Sam glared out the window of Ash’s bedchamber. It was grey and gritty and gloomy enough inside Sam’s head. The least the September weather could do was cooperate and provide some distracting sunshine.
“Surly Sam, I need your assistance.”
Sam growled. Ash had taken to calling himSurly Sambecause, yes, Sam had turned into a bloody grump. It had taken everyone aback at first—the normally cocksure, quick with a jest, cove was now short-tempered and short-spoken. He’d even moped around on his birthday in July. The staff at Devonford Castle didn’t know what to do with a quiet Sam. Usually, they couldn’t get him to shut his gob.
Sam did like Cook’s tactic. She had determined if words weren’t flowingoutof Sam’s mouth, there were more opportunities for tarts to goinSam’s mouth. Sam had been eating a lot of tarts lately.
