Chapter Two

"My lord!"

James held back the groan rising up the back of his throat but was unable to keep from rolling his eyes. He ignored the call of his groom behind him.

"My lord, I thought I had lost you!" his groom rasped the moment he caught up.

James glanced down at the heaving man. He felt a cross between irritation and mirth at the sight. "That was my intention. And yet you have found me."

"My lord…"

"You need not follow me everywhere I go."

"But your steed—"

"Has not thrown me off its back or tried to trample me under its feet," James pressed, loosening the constraints of the saddle. "And that makes this horse perfectly capable of becoming my next preferred steed, does it not?"

"But my lord—"

"I have had enough of his conversation." James left the saddle half undone and walked away. He tucked away the smidgen of remorse he felt at being so short. He didn't like to speak to his servants that way and was very aware of the fact that he had been the one to ask his groom to accompany him. But that was before he'd gone on a horse ride long enough to bring up memories he had long wished he could forget, even just for a day.

James didn't look back as he stalked away from the stables and to his the manor. His mind was on one thing. Get to his chambers. Get to his chambers. Get to his chambers.

Those plans unraveled the instant he crossed the threshold of the manor and was met by the beaming visage of his mother. Lady Evelyn Stanford had the appearance of a kind angel and the wit of a crafty one. James could easily tell which one had greeted him.

"There you are, dear," she greeted with a smile that told him she had been waiting for him this entire time.

"Mother, I am not in the mood," James said immediately, stepping around her slight frame.

"When are you ever in the mood? You have been wearing that terrible scowl for months now."

Close. It had been years but it seemed she was trying to be nice.

"Do you need something, Mother?"

"Indeed, I find myself in perpetual need," the countess remarked, gracefully intertwining her arm with his. "This morning, I required a revitalizing boost due to a restless night. By midday, I deemed it necessary to procure a new pair of gloves. And now..."

"Now?" he pressed impatiently. He didn't slow his pace and was a little impressed that she was keeping up with him.

"Now, I would love for my son to pause for few seconds so that I may speak with him."

James stifled the groan whispering up his throat and stopped, pulling his arm free from hers so that he could cross them. "What is the matter, Mother?"

"Have dinner with us."

"No, I—"

"I don't want to hear any excuses," Evelyn continued. "You have not dined with us in two weeks, citing one excuse and the next. Well, I shan't hear any of it. You are my son and I believe I should be able to eat with you as least twice in one week."

Too many protests bombarded his mind at once but James didn't have the strength to say them all. Not when his mother was all but begging him to do something so simple as have dinner.

But he was in no mood for company. He hadn't been for a while now. Not when he was constantly being bombarded with memories of what had happened two years ago. Having dinner with the family didn't feel right anymore.

"No protests," Evelyn stated firmly and somehow pushed her arm through his before he could stop her. "A strapping young man like you must eat, after all."

"I had intended on eating in my chambers."

"Without company?"

James didn't bother to respond. He knew what his mother was doing. She was poking the argumentative bear inside of him, hoping to bring him out of the shell he'd retreated into these past few weeks. But he was in no mood to go back and forth about minor things. If she wanted to dine with him, so be it. He would simply eat his food in silence.

James gritted his teeth at the thought. He didn't like how bitter and petty he was becoming but he didn't know how to stop it. Every day felt as if he was slipping further and further into a black hole. The last time that had happened, it had taken months to climb out of it.

Sometimes he wondered if it mattered whether or not he did. Nothing was the same anymore. Nothing would ever be the same.

He felt a twinge of guilt when Evelyn sighed softly in disappointment but he said nothing. They walked in silence to the dining room. Two heads lifted at their entrance.

"I found him," Evelyn announced, finally releasing him.

"Good to see you, son," said Richard Sandford, the Earl of Grenford. He leveled an even look on James as he approached.

James didn't look at him. He couldn't even meet his eyes. Every time he looked at the strong jaw, green eyes, and head of thick black hair, all he could see was his brother. His easygoing, jovial brother whose laughter James would never hear again.

"Father," James said, sinking into the chair next to him. He immediately commenced eating even though he could feel three pairs of eyes on him.

His parents was one thing. James could ignore them well enough if he tried, could ignore the well of guilt for a while before it grew overwhelming.

But Catherine's stare felt like it was burning a hole through his chest. James glanced up at her and felt his heart crack at the mixture of hope and worry in her brown eyes.

"It's good to see you, James," his dear sister said softly.

James couldn't manage any words past the lump in his throat, so he only nodded. Catherine was ten-and-eight, old enough to understand pain and loss. Old enough to know just how much pain James was in while battling her own hurt. She shouldn't be looking at him with such pity. He should be the one caring for her, picking up the pieces of her broken heart after they'd lost one of the most important people in their lives.

But Catherine didn't understand the guilt that plagued him. Perhaps she knew of it, like they all did, but they did not know what it did to him.

Unable to help it, James slid his gaze to the empty chair next to Catherine. His brother should have been sitting there, grinning back at him and cracking a silly joke that would only make their mother laugh. Had it not been for James, he still would have been.

Evelyn cleared her throat. James returned his eyes to the bland soup he was eating.

"James, did you see the invitation I left on your desk?"

James shook his head, focusing on eating so as to distract himself from the rest of his thoughts.

"You haven't?" Evelyn gasped with far more dramatics than was needed. "Lady Elderwood is throwing a lavish summer party and it is rumoured to be one of the most anticipated events of the Season. We shall all be in attendance."

"I have no intention of attending such a thing."

"Have you forgotten that Catherine is out in society?" his father asked in a slow voice. He'd always been so levelheaded, matching his wife's flair for the dramatics with stoicism. "It is your duty to attend to support her."

"I need not subject myself to such things when she will have a chaperone in mother and you as her guardian, Father."

"And what shall she have in you? Or will you be as absent as Edward—"

"Richard!" Evelyn said sharply.

The damage was already done. The pain and loss of Edward's memories went seeping into the air, threatening to choke James.

"It would be quite nice if we could all go together," Catherine spoke up with a tentative smile. "Don't you think, James? It has been a while."

James met her coffee brown eyes, so much like his own, and sighed. "Very well."

"Marvelous!" Evelyn chirped. "Catherine, we shall go shopping then. We need to get you a new dress if you are to entice any new suitors."

"She needs not entice anyone," Richard growled. "Anyone who does not gaze upon her with admiration and intends to solicit her hand is most certainly unworthy of our consideration."

***

"Father," Catherine sighed. "I hope you do not intend to be so overbearing during the ball."

"I am not being overbearing. I am being realistic."

"And you shall scare away half her suitors with that sort of realism," Evelyn berated.

James listened with half an ear, going through his meals with such gusto that it was sure to give him indigestion. They didn't need him here, he knew. They would be fine with out him. He'd always been the quiet one during dinner, pondering some difficult equation while conversations swirled about his head. Edward, on the other hand…

His absence was obvious. Even after two years, it still felt as if someone was missing.

James tried ignore the looming rise of discomfort knowing that he was the cause of such a dilemma. Resentment crawled up the back of his throat as he listened to his family. They talked as if nothing were amiss. How could they have forgotten Edward already?

That dark cloud was quickly settling over his mind and the hours stretched on as dinner drew to a slow conclusion. Now and again, Catherine attempted to pull him into the conversation, but she gave up quickly enough when she realized it was a foolish hope. At long last, James was freed from the confines of the table.

"James."

He stopped in his tracks, one foot out the door. Had his father not spoken in such a low, stern tone, he wouldn't have bothered stopping at all.

"What is it?" he asked in an equally firm tone, turning to face him. He tried to ignore the anxious looks his mother and sister shared but it was difficult.

"I need to have a word with you in my study."

Richard did not bother wait for a response. He stood and briskly walked out of the room, not bothering to look back to see if James was following.

James did so reluctantly. With every step he took to his father's study, he prayed this was not the conversation he had been dreading for the past few months.

The moment he stepped into the room, however, his father said, "We must speak about your future."

James couldn't hold back his groan this time. He closed the door, leaning against it with his arms crossed. "I cannot say that I feel the same way."

Richard made a grunt of disapproval at those words. At times like these, James wondered just how similar to his father he really was. He knew that he'd adopted most of his mother's features but he'd hardly went a day in his youth where his demeanor was not compared to that of the earl. James watched as his father paced over to the parlor—to have his post-dinner drink of whiskey, he was sure—with his brows furrowed and his lips turned downwards.

"You seem content to let your life pass you by, James," Richard said once he'd taken his first sip of the amber liquid. "You are seven-and-twenty years old. Surely you have an intention to take a wife."

In fact, that was the furthest thing from James' mind. "I have more pressing matters to take care of?"

"Like what? Terrifying our servants nearly to the point of apoplexy with your reckless escapades and your propensity for overindulgence? Your mother is in a state of profound distress."

James tucked the guilt away, like he always did. This time, it was a little easier burying it under his irritation. "Mother has no reason to worry. If it is my sanity that concerns her, I shall settle her mind at once."

"You know that is not what I mean," Richard grumbled. He threw the rest of his whiskey back at once and was already making his way back to the sideboard. "You are the heir to my earldom, James. It is high time you think about settling down so that you may provide your heir when it is time."

James frowned, forgetting his anger. "Are you ill?"

"No, I'm not ill. Must I be on my deathbed for you to consider what I am saying?"

James relaxed then scowled. "I only wish to understand the need for such a rush. Many gentlemen wait until they are well into their thirties to consider the prospect of establishing a family."

"And many such gentlemen find themselves unable to fulfill their obligations to produce an heir when that time arrives. I shall not permit that to befall you," his father replied with earnest concern.

"You needn't fret over such matters, Father," James scoffed lightly. "I have every confidence that when the time comes, I shall be more than capable of securing an heir, even if I find myself advanced in years."

"Give me cause not to worry then," the earl expressed, his scowl deepening. "Attend Lady Elderwood's summer party and seek out a potential wife."

"Father, haven't you listened to word I have said? I have no intention of taking a wife. Not yet."

"When then? When you are old and grey? Will you let your guilt derail your plans for years to come?"

He had had enough. James straightened, hand shooting out to the handle to leave.

"It was an accident, James."

His father's voice stopped him. It was softer than he'd ever heard it before.

"You should not spend the rest of your life holding on to your guilt. You cannot. What happened was not your fault and it should not stand in the way of your future."

"You were not there, Father," James responded in as low a tone as he could muster. His hand began to shake, a lump forming in his throat. "You would not understand."

"I lost a son, James. I understand more than you know."

He wouldn't. No matter what he said, no matter the pain he'd undoubtedly felt, the earl could not understand what James felt the moment his brother died in his arms. Because of his own actions. Had it not been for him, Edward would still be here right now.

"Take the party as a chance to reconnect with society again," his father urged, his tone still uncommonly gentle. "You have been away from the public's eye for far too long."

James couldn't bring himself to respond. So he walked out the room instead, barely keeping himself from slamming the door. He headed straight for the stables, needing to cling to one of the only things that kept him sane since Edward died.

Reconnecting with society was the last thing he wanted. But deep down, he knew that his father was right. That was the worst thing about it all.