Eleven

Zachary

I was a bloody mess.

I laid in bed and nursed a terrible megrim all the while trying to recall why my cheek was sore to the touch.

Upon learning of Eveline Turner’s inclusion to the party shortly after my arrival yesterday, the drinking began and did not cease as the afternoon progressed into the evening. Seeing the woman looking so devastatingly beautiful in her blue gown, accentuating her flawless skin and curves, I thought I might go mad. Then, every time I saw another gentleman hound Evie for her attention, I drank again and again.

Once everyone retired to their respective bedchambers for the night, one might think the torment would end, but knowing she slept so close under the same roof created an anguish of its own. Thank goodness she was placed in the opposite wing with most of the women. Twice I had to refrain from marching over there and banging on her door.

Stretching my legs out across the expansive four-poster bed, I rubbed the new growth on my chin and suddenly bits and pieces of a conversation from only this morning came back in spurts.

Uh, oh.

What could I possibly have said to Evie to make her angry enough to strike me?

Eveline, the gentlest woman I had ever met, planted a facer on me. Though it resembled more of a slap, it carried enough strength that I would be fortunate if it didn’t bruise. Did I proposition her? Not that I hadn’t thought of Evie in my arms a thousand times before, but I would never treat her like a tawdry lightskirt. What did I say? I pressed both hands against my aching head and groaned.

A knock sounded on the door and the reverberation felt like it split my skull in half.

“Come in,” I mumbled.

The door opened and from the heavy footfalls that approached my bed, I assumed they belonged to a man.

“Are you ill?” Lucas demanded.

I peered through my fingers and saw him with his hands fisted on his hips, frowning down on me. If he knew I had said or done something to offend Evie, I would have been beaten to a pulp by now. Lucas fiercely protected our friend. And, in typical Evie fashion, she most likely said nothing. Now I felt worse.

“I may have drunk too much yesterday.”

“May have?” Lucas mockingly snapped back.

“And last night.” I rolled over and away from his condescension.

“You drank twice as much as the entire party as a whole. You are going to kill yourself, Zach.”

“I won’t kill myself,” I mumbled, then momentarily wondered if that might bring an end to my misery. I shook it off, I had never considered such a reaction, though many of our returning soldiers succumbed to such a fate.

“You need to stop.”

“I have it under control.”

“Hardly,” he scoffed.

“Did you come in here to lecture me like my father?” I retorted. “Or did you have a purpose?”

“You have missed most of the day. We are going fishing in the next quarter hour and Hunter sent me up to retrieve you and Jaxon.”

“Jaxon missed the day’s events, too?” I attempted to sit up, but my head ached far too much.

“He has not left his bedchamber much, and with you doing this, it’s discourteous. Hunter and Gwendolyn deserve better, Zach. Although Jaxon’s behavior can be pardoned, yours cannot.”

“I will be down shortly,” I muttered. Then after he departed, I threw my pillow over my head and fell back asleep.

It was evening before I finally rolled over and dropped my feet to the floor. My head still ached but the pain slightly subsided—only the memory remained. Eveline slapped me and I didn’t know why.

I tugged the bell pull to summon Jesse, who had been assigned as my valet for the duration of my stay, and asked him to draw a bath. While he was making the preparations, I quickly dressed in clothes simple enough to visit my friend down the hall.

When Jaxon opened his door to me, his eyebrow quirked in disbelief. He had rarely seen me in less than proper attire, even in his house in Mayfair. I snorted. “May I come in?”

He opened the door wider and motioned for me to enter.

“You look dreadful,” he said as he took a seat by the darkened hearth. Pointing to the chair opposite him, he motioned for me to join him.

“Though I didn’t consult a looking glass before I departed my bedchamber…” I ran my fingers through my hair as if that might rectify the issue. “I must say, Jax, you look a bit frightful yourself.”

He chuckled. “I am an abysmal friend. Hunter will never invite me to another house party.”

“At least you have an excuse.” I sighed and sat down, running both hands down my thighs.

“What did you do now, Zach?” He leaned forward. His tone confirmed that he recalled the numerous confessions I divulged back in London.

I shook my head. “Honestly, I’m not entirely certain. I said something to Evie, something I can’t recall, and she slapped me for it.” I turned my head slightly to the right so he could see the red welt near my jaw line.

“Deuce! That looks painful.”

“It is.”

“What do you last remember?”

“Being in the stables, she had just finished a ride—”

He cut me off. “—I thought I overheard Mrs. Turner claim she doesn’t ride sufficiently enough.”

I smirked. “Yes, well, we all have our secrets.” My lighthearted response did not refer to only me and Evie.

He grunted.

“I believe I questioned her reasons for leaving mourning.”

“That’s personal, mate, why would you do that?”

My brows furrowed. “Why does anyone do anything foolish while deep in their cups?”

He leaned back against his chair. “Indeed.”

My brows furrowed as I concentrated harder. “I think I accused her of husband hunting.”

“Blast, Collins, I thought you cared for her, even loved her,” Jax reprimanded.

I pondered far too long on that word.

“Don’t you?”

Though no fire blazed behind the grate, I wiped a thin layer of sweat off my forehead while I contemplated his question.

Jaxon continued, “While I personally have not experienced the sentiment myself, I’ve witnessed the love between my parents, and I’m certain it does not include a slap.”

I groaned. Did I truly have any concept of love? Attraction? Yes. Infatuation? Yes. Desire? Absolutely. But love ? Outside of what I’d witnessed with my two best friends and their wives, I had never seen the pure and honest characteristics of love.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and fisted my hands near my mouth. I whispered, “I’m not sure I truly know the definition of the word.”

Jaxon placed a hand on my shoulder. “I suggest you unravel that mystery before you do any further damage. Mrs. Turner is likely fragile right now. She lost her husband and is now being seen as nothing more than a means to an end by several gentlemen.”

The very thought fostered frustration within me. If only her husband had left her with a meager amount to live by, then maybe she could live a peaceful life. Certainly now she questioned every thought, word, and action from everyone. Including me. “That is precisely why she should not be in attendance.”

Jaxon grimaced and shook his head. “That is not your decision to make, Zach.”

I knew he spoke the truth. Only I wasn’t entirely certain her departure from the party was more necessary for her safety or my sanity.

“Thank you, Jax.” I stood to my feet. “Now, how can I help you?”

His phantom smile emerged, the placating one, not the genuine one. “I just need time. I find myself dreading social gatherings, even ones as small as this.”

I ruminated over our different hardships and an idea came to mind. “May I suggest we help each other?”

He appeared intrigued. “In what way?”

I clenched my teeth and breathed heavily through my nose before I spoke. I knew this next suggestion would take every ounce of strength I owned. “For every day I don’t consume a draught of liquor, you will promise to engage in at least one leisure interest.”

His eyes scrutinized me. Even in our short reunification, he had been a constant witness to my indulgent consumption multiple times a day. “Truly?”

“Well, beginning tomorrow,” I grumbled. “I’ve already partaken today.”

Jaxon stood up and held out his hand with an earnest look. “I accept.”

We shook.

I ran a hand down my face. “Now, I must get ready and down to dinner before I’m booted from the party altogether.”

He chuckled. Such an enjoyable sound to hear again.

“Thanks, mate.”

“Goodnight, Jaxon.”

After a short bath and careful selection of my evening attire, I presented myself to the assemblage once more. Arriving only minutes before dinner, I hoped to avoid the scathing looks of my mates for my earlier absence. While I don’t naturally cower to such a set down, I knew my erroneous behavior needed to be rectified posthaste in order to garner their respect once more.

I stepped inside the drawing room with its extravagant European flare. Hunter’s mother had exquisite taste, and the rooms of this house were greatly enhanced from her influence. Though I took note of the evergreen and gold damask drapes symmetrically fringing the beveled windows, the Roman busts, gold-leaf frames, and intricate décor, my eyes searched for something else… someone else.

Eveline .

She stood beside the cozy hearth with, no surprise to me, two gentlemen flanking her sides. When she glanced toward me, I fully expected anger, but instead, her expression revealed a less apparent sentiment—pity.

Pity.

The very last thing I wanted to see from her or anyone.

With both the need to keep from reaching for a glass of sherry and putting her out of my mind, I scanned the room for other distractions. Miss Angeline Wimpole, the younger sister of Sir Charles, would be a suitable place to start. The lovely redhead could not match Eveline’s devoted following, mostly, I believe, because of her inconsequential dowry.

It may have been my innate desire to prove to my friends that I didn’t care about dowries or coffers, but I hoped my affable engagement with other members of the party might ease the tension between us and at the same time provide a diversion with the likes of a pretty young woman.

I strode over to where she sat on the chaise with another handsome young guest, Miss Emma Baker. Given the situation, two just might be better than one. I smiled at the women upon approach. “Miss Angeline, Miss Baker, would you allow me to escort you both to dinner this evening?”

Miss Angeline made no attempt hide her pleasure. “I, for one, would be delighted.” She stood quickly and wrapped her arm through mine as if it were a race and she had just claimed the prize. Whereas Miss Baker appeared a bit more reserved with a gentle nod and slower response.

I was learning a significant amount about these two women in these precious few moments while I waited for the quiet Miss Baker to claim my other arm and for the three of us to join the line to enter the dining hall.

It took every measure of willpower for me not to peer back at Eveline to see whose arm she might be attached to. This needed to be the beginning of a new period for me—one without Eveline or alcohol as my sole contemplations.

After a lively dinner conversation, the women departed for the drawing room, and I engaged in small talk with the gentlemen as they passed a bottle of port around. I strategically moved toward Hunter and Lucas before it reached me and spent the remaining time talking about Hunter’s famed pointers. The dogs were worth nearly as much as his horses.

I suspected my empty hands garnered some interest—at least from Lucas—though he said nothing. A modest mercy I was certainly grateful for.

When we rejoined the women in the parlor, I poured all my attention into Miss Angeline and several spirited games of whist. Only twice did I glance in Eveline’s direction when she took a turn around the room with Lord Trenton Odell, the second son of an earl, and a friend of Lucas’ older brother, Justin. I even suppressed my anger at the sight of his eyes roaming her figure. Tonight, she wore a cream-colored gown and pearls that contrasted beautifully with her hair. The subtleness of the red within her brown locks seemed to emerge depending on her attire and had only grown more apparent with age.

It was not difficult to see how these men might appreciate her comely appearance. I, for one, found myself entranced far more than I intended. Truth be told, she outshone every woman present. But she was not mine to protect, I convinced myself. If she felt ready to face the world of men, she needed to learn how to navigate it on her own.

I did, however, pause as she passed behind me, held captive by a trace of her perfume. The intoxicating aroma of jasmine lingered long after she departed. I tried not to inhale the scent, but it weaved its way in, stirring my chest and muddling my thoughts. I then reminded myself that this was not how one put someone out of their mind and forcibly turned my attention back to Miss Angeline.

When Eveline said goodnight, she refused to allow anyone to escort her to her room.

Good .

Then I chastised myself. It is not my concern who she spends private time with. However, I could not deny the thought of another man kissing her at the threshold of her bedchamber made me ill. And while I had flirted with and charmed Miss Angeline the entire night, I did not offer to escort her to her bedchamber either.

I really must be ill .