And he didn’t care. He wanted numbness. “It’s none of your concern, Alex.”
“Will it be my concern if you fall over on the Boulevard de Rochechouart and I have to carry you back to the hotel?”
Ethan glared at him. “I’m fine.”
Alex shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something that sounded like, “If you say so.”
But he wasn’t fine. He hadn’t been fine since the night of the Nitterlings’ ball, and Ethan didn’t think he’d ever be fine again. He took another sip. This was why he hadn’t wanted to get involved with Francesca. From the start, he knew she’d bring him nothing but grief.
The devil take him, he was even lying to himself now. He lifted the glass to his mouth again and then, without drinking, abruptly set it down. The brandy made it easy to lie. To tell himself Francesca had been at fault, that she was responsible for the pain he felt now. But he knew it was a lie. If he was honest with himself, a rare occurrence these past few weeks, he could admit that he had not really tried to avoid involvement with Francesca. In fact, from the moment he’d seen her outside Skerrit’s barn, he’d looked for an opportunity to be with her again.He’dseduced
her.He’dinsisted on marriage. She’d never pressed him, never pushed him—except to confide in her, to trust her.
And he hadn’t been able to do it.
She wasn’t Victoria. When he opened the door at Bellerive and saw her and Nitterling’s son together, he’d seen Victoria, not Francesca.
It was impossible that Francesca would betray him. She’d loved him even when he hadn’t known she existed—even after he’d humiliated her in front of thetonby abandoning her publicly in Lord Harcourt’s ballroom. And she’d always believed in him, defended him when she had every reason not to. She’d seen the evidence of his so-called revenge on George Leigh for herself, but she’d never doubted there was more to the story, and accepted his explanation unconditionally.
No, it was his own fears, his own unwillingness to expose himself to vulnerability that caused him pain and drove him to escape their growing intimacy.
But it was too late for escape. He’d fallen in love with her, and it scared the hell out of him. He’d loved once before and had been hurt, and he loved Francesca more deeply, more completely, than he’d ever loved Victoria. How much more deeply and completely could Francesca hurt him then?
He shook his head, pushing the glass out of reach. It was no use. He loved her. He loved her whether he was drunk or sober, in England or France, no matter if she was wrapped in his arms or glaring at him, hands fisted on her hips. And he wanted to tell her, wanted to start over, make everything right between them, learn to trust her, even as he taught her to trust him.
And he wanted to start now. He wanted to be with her this very moment. It was almost Christmas—if he left tonight, he could be at Winterbourne Hall for Christmas Eve.
A woman’s shriek and a man’s lewd bellow caught Ethan’s attention, and he glanced around the grimy tavern again. Suddenly France, once his escape, had become his prison.
“I think you should leave France,” Alex said
Ethan’s head snapped up. “What?”
Alex nodded, raking his gaze over his brother, reminding Ethan of his unkempt appearance. “You need to go home. To Winterbourne Hall.”
“I know—” Ethan began.
Alex held up a hand to ward off Ethan’s expected protests. “You’re becoming a liability, Ethan. It’s only a matter of time until you make a mistake that could bring us all down.”
Ethan opened his mouth to agree, but Alex went on, “Don’t argue with me, Ethan. There’s something between you and Francesca.” Alex’s tone was a mixture of incredulity and pity.
Ethan smiled. Alex had never been in love, thought it was for fools.
“I love her,” Ethan said, surprised at how easily the words passed from his lips now.
“And if I have to write to Grenville and have him order you—” Alex’s eyebrows shot together and he narrowed his eyes at Ethan. “What did you just say?”
“I said, I love her.”
“You do? I mean, good. Right.”
“I need to be with her.” Ethan reached into his waistcoat for money and stood.
“You’re leavingnow?” Alex sounded incredulous.
“Why not?”
“Leaving so soon?” A large man with snow dusting the threadbare coat slung over his arm stood behind Alex. “I was told you wanted to talk.”
