Chapter 32

Thomas morosely stared at the amber-coloured drink. He was not a man prone to drinking in excess, not really. After leaving Lady Norwood's townhouse that morning, Thomas had made some rather questionable decisions.

One of them—the biggest of his questionable decisions—involved going to a tavern and drinking well into the evening. His head felt as though it were filled with cotton, and when he blinked, his vision blurred a little.

He had stopped being pleasantly inebriated some time ago, but the tavernkeeper kept bringing drinks to Thomas. He had yet to refuse them, for they had yet to remove the desire for the lovely Victoria from his mind.

"McCallister!" The familiar voice boomed too loudly across the room.

Thomas groaned and finished his drink, silently hoping that he had only imagined hearing Samuel. He knew it was unlikely, but he would prefer not to face his friend right then.

He looked askance, and Samuel sat beside him. "Ignoring me will not make me leave," Samuel informed him.

"I know."

Samuel furrowed his brow and seemed to survey his friend very carefully. Thomas tipped his head back, trying his best to feign normalcy. He was aware enough to realize that attempting to feign normalcy was assuredly an indication that he had drunk too much.

"How long have you been here?" Samuel asked.

Thomas shrugged.

With a sigh, Samuel waved to the barmaid. "How long has he been here?"

"Since this afternoon," she replied.

Thomas scowled at her. "Traitor," he muttered.

Samuel shook his head. "McCallister, what happened?"

"You know what happened."

"What happened since I saw you last?" Samuel amended. "I came to your townhouse early this morning, but you had already left. None of your staff seemed to know where you had gone."

Thomas stared morosely at his empty glass. "I went to see Lady Victoria."

Samuel nodded slowly. "And am I to assume that visit did not go well?"

"It did not even happen," Thomas replied. "Lady Victoria has left somewhere, and her stepmother is delightedly anticipating receiving her half of the family's business."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Samuel asked.

Thomas barked in laughter. "Not unless you can turn back the clock and undo all my mistakes with Lady Victoria. Now, she is gone, and I will likely never find her."

"You should not lose hope," Samuel said. "She cannot have got far, surely. A young lady like her, even if she left, I doubt that she would have the money needed to have travelled all the way across England by now. She must still be nearby."

"And she does not want to be found," Thomas said.

Samuel sighed. "You are drunk."

Thomas huffed. "Hardly."

He was, but he refused to give Samuel the satisfaction of being right. Samuel beckoned for the tavernkeeper again. "Will you send a messenger to fetch someone for me?" he asked.

Thomas grimaced. The tavern-maid filled his glass again, and Thomas let his attention wander away from Samuel's conversation. He could send a messenger after whoever he liked. What did it matter to Thomas?

Thomas sipped the cognac and imagined Victoria's worried gaze before him. He wondered if there was any amount of alcohol that could remove the young woman's face from his memory or if he was doomed to remember her forever.

"I think you have had enough to drink, my friend," Samuel said.

Thomas turned his head to face his friend, but his neck felt strangely disconnected from the rest of him. "I have not had enough," he said, the words echoing strangely inside his head.

Samuel stared sympathetically at him. "This is not helping you."

"What do you know?"

When Thomas reached for his glass, Samuel seized it and finished the drink with a single gulp. Thomas gave his friend an affronted look, but it was a half-hearted gesture. His mind was already so light and filled with alcohol that the situation did seem rather humorous to him.

"I know that you are stumbling over your own words," Samuel said sternly. "You are too old for this. We are not at Cambridge anymore."

"Old …" Thomas snorted. "Never too old to mourn losing the woman you love."

"You are too old to be relinquishing her so easily," Samuel insisted. "I know that."

Thomas sighed and pressed his forehead against the table, the feeling of coldness steadying against … well, against something. He was beginning to have difficulty in stringing words together. Dimly, he thought that Samuel might be right. He had drank too much. With a sigh, Thomas tipped his head back. "I am going to regret this later."

"Oh, you are," Samuel said. "Perhaps sooner rather than later. Try to be a little more sober when your father arrives."

"My father?"

Samuel nodded. "I know how you are when you are like this," he replied, "and I am sure that I cannot handle you on my own. I do not intend to try."

Thomas groaned. His father would be displeased with him. That was obvious, but he was having difficulty in forming any thoughts beyond that.

"How could you?" Thomas grumbled.

Samuel shook his head and patted Thomas on the shoulder. "This gives me no pleasure. I know you love Lady Victoria, though. I refuse to watch you drink yourself into an early grave when you can have her."

"She does not want me," Thomas breathed.

"Then, you must fight for her!" Samuel exclaimed. "Besides, you know that her stepmother is a cruel woman! Surely, Lady Victoria knows that, also. If given time, I have no doubt that she will realize that her stepmother purposefully tried to separate the two of you."

Samuel said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, but he had not stared into Victoria's pale and distraught face like Thomas had. Bile rose in Thomas' throat, and he wrinkled his nose, forcing down the foul taste. "You do not understand," Thomas said.

"I do," Samuel said. "You are not the only one who has ever lost a woman you loved, but you have not truly lost Lady Victoria. You have only to talk to her."

Thomas rubbed his temples. A headache was beginning to form behind his eyes, and he only managed to grasp every few words that Samuel spoke. "Who did you lose?" Thomas murmured. "Was it the actress?"

"No," Samuel said. "You never met her. We were involved when you were away for business."

"I am sorry."

"As am I," Samuel said, "but I met Loralie. I adore her as much as you do, Lady Victoria. I will not let you lose her."

Thomas hummed and grimaced. He felt suddenly exhausted, all the way down to his bones. At the moment, he felt like the only siren's call worth listening to would be that of his own bed. It was impossible to say how long he sat there with his forehead pressed against the table and Samuel seated silently behind him.

Thomas sighed and groaned. His friend turned towards him. "Feeling a little more sober?" Samuel asked.

"Not enough," Thomas asked.

"That might be for the best," Samuel replied. "If you truly have been here all day, I imagine that you are going to have a wicked migraine once you are sober."

The door to the tavern opened, and he grimaced when he saw his father enter.

"I hate you for this," Thomas said without heat.

"I am sure," Samuel replied.

Time seemed to slow as Thomas' father approached them and took the seat to Thomas' right. "I heard about what happened," his father said.

Thomas groaned and cast Samuel a vexed glance. The man seemed entirely unrepentant for his role in this.

"At the festival or this morning?" Thomas asked.

"The festival." His father paused. "And I can see the effects of last night."

"Yes," Thomas replied. "I did something foolish. I loved Victoria, and I wanted to marry her. But I did everything wrong. I lost her love and half our fortune with it."

"I do not care about losing the money," his father said. "You know that, surely."

"But I lost both," Thomas murmured. "It was not only the fortune but Victoria, too. At least, if I had married her …"

"I never cared about the fortune at all," his father said, making his words slow and deliberate. "I agreed with Sinclair's idea because I was thinking about your happiness. I know that you are like me. You work hard, and you gave all your time and devotion to ensuring that McCallister Sinclair would be a success."

"You did the same," Thomas said.

"Of course, but that was never about the money. Everything I did, I did for you. I wanted you to be happy."

"But—"

His father raised a hand. "Let me finish. I worked hard my entire life, building that business with Sinclair. It took a great deal of work, as I am sure you have surmised. It also took many sacrifices."

"I know."

"It meant that I could not be there for you as much as I wanted to be when you were a boy, and it meant that I could not spend as much time as I would have liked with your mother. Sinclair and I wanted to ensure that our children learned from our mistakes. We wanted you and Lady Victoria to have a future outside of the business."

Thomas furrowed his brow and rubbed the palms of his hands against his eyes. A dull throbbing sensation began to grow behind his eyelids.

"You cannot work without rest," his father said. "And you cannot live your life devoted solely to McCallister Sinclair. You must have something else in your life. For however short a time it was, I had your mother."

"And you wanted me to have Victoria," Thomas said.

"And she would have you."

Thomas sighed. "I am sorry for ruining everything," he said. "I tried to fall in love with her. I did, actually. But I could not persuade her to love me. I kept too many secrets and hurt her trust in me."

"So you did," his father replied. "And now, I find you here—at a tavern and drinking away the day—instead of trying to fight for Lady Victoria's love. I think about how much time and effort you have devoted to McCallister Sinclair, and I wonder why you cannot show that same amount of devotion to courting Lady Victoria."

Thomas drew in a sharp breath of air. "I want to respect her. I do respect her."

"We all know that," his father said. "But to relinquish Lady Victoria's love so easily does not sound like the son I raised. If you adore this young woman, you should fight for her."

Thomas' breath shuddered. "Fight for her …" he murmured.

"You will not win her love otherwise," his father added.

Thomas slowly nodded. Even through the haze of alcohol and distress, he felt something new. Warmth spread through his chest. His father and Samuel were right. He had to fight for Victoria's love.

"I must do something besides try and plead my case again," Thomas said. "I am not going to win her otherwise."

"I will help you," Samuel said, grinning. "After all, I know her dear friend Loralie, and I am quite sure that she will be willing to aid our efforts in winning your lady love."