“Strong? I’m not strong. I drink too much, because it’s a way to hide. I sent the man I love away because I am terrified that if I don’t he will eventually send me away, and I couldn’t bear it. There was a man on Alistair’s ship abusing a child, and when I confronted him, I thought I might faint or vomit or soil myself. I am weak and flawed and absolutely incapable of watching you waste away. So I will not be listening to any further excuses. You will eat what I bring you to eat and drink what I bring you to drink, and in a few short swift months you will reward us both with a healthy child to love and spoil.”
There was a flare of irritation in Hester’s green eyes. “As you command,” she said crossly.
Jess took the show of temper as a good sign. She also took the lesson of the day to heart: life and happiness are both too dear to throw away. She would give Alistair the time he needed to regain his bearings, but she wouldn’t allow him to slip away from her without a fight. If she had to lock him, his mother, and Masterson in a room to clear the air between them, so be it.
She pressed a kiss to Hester’s forehead and went to speak to the cook.
Michael entered Alistair’s study and found his friend poring over architectural renderings of a prospective new irrigation system. He took a moment to absorb the sight of his friend, taking in the changes the time away from home had wrought in the young man with whom he’d spent so much of his youth.
“You look horrendous,” Michael said, noting the day’s worth of stubble shadowing Alistair’s jawline and the crumpled state of his shirtsleeves. “And why are you here instead of at Masterson Place?”
Alistair looked up. “Nothing on earth could entice me into residing under the same roof as Masterson.”
“I knew that’s how you would answer.”
“So why ask?”
“To aggravate you.”
With a low groan that sounded suspiciously like a growl, Alistair straightened and ran a hand through his hair. Michael knew all too well how overwhelming the first few months would be for his friend. A year and a half after Benedict’s death, and he was only just beginning to feel as if he wore his own skin. “I have enough aggravation without your assistance.”
“What are friends for?” Michael held up a hand before a retort could be made. “You will have bigger troubles once you come out of hiding and appear in public. The scandal sheets say you have replaced me as the bachelor most hunted, for which I will be eternally grateful.”
Alistair sank into the leather chair behind the desk. A nautical feel embellished the space, not overt, but present nevertheless. It was there in the color palette of blue and white, the shape and fluidity of the designs carved into the walnut furnishings, and the touches of brass spread all around the room. The study suited the gentleman who used it, a man best known as an adventurer and wanderer, which made Alistair’s next statement seem even more out of place.
“I am not a bachelor.”
“You’re unmarried,” Michael pointed out dryly. “That makes you a bachelor.”
“Not to my mind.”
“You are still determined to have Jessica?”
“She’s mine already.” Alistair lifted one shoulder in an insolent shrug. “Everything else is merely a formality.”
“I pray you aren’t implying that you’ve taken liberties.” It was a thought that didn’t sit well. Jessica was his brother’s widow. She was a member of his family and a friend. She’d loved his brother and brought him great happiness, and when Benedict had fallen ill with consumption, she had stayed by his side to the very end. She had shunned Society and social events in favor of tending to Benedict and entertaining him on the days he felt up to it. For her care and consideration, Michael would protect her safety and interests for the rest of her days.
Drumming his fingers on the armrests, Alistair studied him with a narrow-eyed stare. “My relationship with Jess is none of your concern.”
“If your intentions are honorable, why not announce your engagement?”
“If the decision were mine alone, we’d be wed and under one roof now. Jessica is the source of the delay, for reasons I don’t fully comprehend. She acts as if there might be something capable of diminishing my affection for her.”
“Such as?”
“Such as Masterson’s need for an heir combined with a young debutante capable of producing one. Or my mother’s unhappiness over my choice. Or some future urge to procreate that might strike me.”
“All reasonable arguments.”
“I have been unreasonably in love with her as long as I can remember. That has trumped everything so far, and I don’t foresee it changing.”
“Everything except more women than I can count,” Michael said dryly.
“You should hire a tutor for yourself, then, to help you with basic math.”
“I didn’t have to see them. There was rarely an evening when you didn’t smell of sex and a woman’s perfume.”
To Michael’s surprise, his libertine friend’s cheekbones were flagged with a dull red flush.
“And the ones you did see,” Alistair said gruffly. “What do you remember about them?”
“Sorry, chap. Your ladybirds didn’t interest me as much as they interested you. And I rarely saw one more than once, as I recall.”
“Hmm … It wasn’t notable that all were blondes? Pale-skinned and light-eyed, too. I never found one with gray irises, like a brewing storm, but that was just as well. I have never been one who is satisfied by replicas of priceless things. There is nothing quite like the genuine article,” Alistair murmured, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. “And once a man is fortunate enough to acquire a treasure, it is to his pleasure to protect her and coddle her and make her the most prominent feature of his life and home.”
Michael frowned, thinking back. He exhaled in a rush, understanding how deep and far reaching Alistair’s captivation with Jessica went. Perhaps as deep and far reaching as his affection for Hester. “Damnation.”
A knock came at the door.
Alistair’s head turned, and one brow rose in silent query.
The butler’s voice drifted over Alistair’s shoulder. “Forgive me, my lords,” the servant said. “Her Grace, the Duchess of Masterson, has come to call.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Alistair nodded. “Show her in.”
Gripping the arms of his chair, Michael moved to stand.
“Stay,” Alistair said.
“Beg your pardon?” Both of Michael’s brows rose.
“Please.”
Michael settled back into his seat, only to rise a moment later when Alistair’s mother entered. He smiled, pleased as all men were by the sight of a beautiful woman. Unlike his brothers, Alistair took after his mother to a marked degree. Both had inky black hair and piercing blue eyes. Both were elegant and innately sensual in build and carriage, with a rapier wit that charmed and sliced with equal measure.
“My Lord Tarley,” she greeted in a breathless, lilting voice. She held out her hand to him. “You look well and far too handsome for a woman’s well-being.”
He kissed the back of her ungloved hand. “Your Grace, always the most sublime of pleasures.”
“Will you be attending the Treadmore’s masquerade?”