“It has nothing to do—”
“Don’t lie to me, Alex.” Ethan slammed a fist on the table. “I suffered from his exploits, too. He was a bastard, and if he was alive now, I’d kill him for what he did to Mother.”
Alex nodded. He would have liked to do the same. His father—Society’s joke.
Love’s Fool.
“He was a fool,” Alex said. “He made fools of all of us.”
“No, Alex.” Ethan sat forward. “His behavior has nothing to do with you—or Lucia.”
Alex snorted. “Right. The moment I show the first sign of affection toward a woman, the comparisons begin.”
Ethan shrugged. “So let them talk. No one who knows you would ever believe you’re anything like Selbourne.”
Alex knew this was true. He’d done everything in his power to set himself apart from his father. But what if it wasn’t enough? What if, deep down, he was just like his father? He’d never forgive himself if he hurt Lucia.
Ethan rose. “The way I see it, Alex, you need only ask one question: Do you love her? If you don’t, let her go. If you do—” He gave Alex a hard look. “If you aren’t willing to go after her, to take a risk, then you don’t deserve her.”
Alex looked out the window again. Of course he didn’t deserve her, but he wanted her, needed her, loved her.
God, he loved her.
His mind had been full of nothing but Lucia from the moment he’d walked away. He thought of her on the voyage to the West Indies, longed to be with her on his return with Nelson. It was thoughts of her that gave him courage to fight at Trafalgar, and, when Nelson had whispered the name of his ladylove, Alex was shocked to find that Lucia’s name had become his own mantra.
It was thoughts of Lucia that necessitated De´charne´’s death. He couldn’t risk allowing her to be made a pawn in De´charne´’s schemes again. Long before he returned to England, Alex had known he was in love with her.
He needed her, and it was driving him mad. She’d wriggled her sweet way into his heart despite every defense he’d erected. The worst part had been resigning himself to the fact that she was lost to him. He’d assumed she’d married Dandridge, and only alcohol had numbed the pain of losing her.
Not that her freedom made any difference. Even if he were to see her, she’d turn and walk the other way. And he couldn’t blame her after the way he’d acted.
Alex thought of a thousand different ways he could’ve parted with her, a million different things he could’ve said. She’d said she loved him. If only he’d said it back. The look in her eyes when he’d turned away still haunted him. He took another swig of gin, wanting to forget that look, stop all the regrets running relentlessly through his brain.
“I’m in love with her,” he said, but when Ethan smiled and came forward, Alex held up a hand. “It doesn’t matter. She’ll never see me, not after the way I treated her.”
Ethan laughed. “You’re giving up that easily? Maybe you don’t love her.”
Alex plowed a hand through his hair. “Ethan, I can’t make her want me—”
“Alex, the girl mopes around like she’s been refused a voucher to Almack’s. If you’re not the cause, I don’t know what is.”
Hope flared in Alex, and he sat forward. “You think I can succeed, then? You think I can convince her to—” He swallowed.
“Marry you?”
Alex nodded.
“You’re looking a little pale, brother. Are you certain you want to get married? It will mean entanglements. It will mean commitment to one woman. And one only.”
Alex’s stomach lurched.
“For life,” Ethan added ominously.
“Do you think she would agree to—”
“Say it and you are dead.”
Alex sighed. “You’re right. Sorry. Panicked for a moment.”