She had laughed at him—joked with him about his affections. She had been cruel and heartless and had made it exceedingly clear that his love had been one-sided.
He closed his eyes as he recalled the desperate letters he had sent her after the event, insisting all would be forgiven and that they could still be together. The foolishness of youth.
Yet despite his own position and wealth, Victoria had chosen a Duke as her husband. She barely gave a second thought to the earl she had humiliated in the process.
Nicholas had not been able to bear it. He had chosen to go to Europe to escape the wretched reality of his broken heart and had abandoned his family at the same time.
He opened his eyes again, and his gaze moved to his sister. Her pretty countenance was alive with excitement as she discussed the party with her aunt. It had been a betrayal for him to leave her.
He had known it at the time but had been too focused on his own selfish pain to heed her pleas for him to stay. He had been gone for far too long, and although he could not agree to remain in England just yet, he knew that his next trip to Europe would be his last.
Another year or two. He promised himself. Then, I will fulfill her wishes and become the earl she wishes me to be.
“Nicholas!”
He was pulled from his thoughts by the realization that Rosemary and his aunt were looking at him expectantly.
“I told you he was not listening,” Rosemary said wearily.
“My apologies. I was considering how I might impress the guests. Perhaps I could learn to juggle? Or I could perform some sort of dance for them?” Despite her disapproval at his tone, his aunt could not entirely mask her smile.
“I was asking,” Rosemary continued, “if you remembered my friend Clarissa Crompton. Do you recall her?”
“I cannot say I do, although the name is familiar.”
“She has accepted our invitation!” Rosemary said, with great animation. “I have not seen her for so long. I was unsure if they would come at all. The scandal was so fresh the last time that I saw her. Thank you for inviting her family, aunt. I believe this will do them all good.”
“I agree; it is too cruel that they have been ostracized for so long,” his aunt said kindly, a slight frown across her brow.
“Now that they are attending, I cannot wait to see her,” Rosemary said excitedly. “She was so dear to me, and I can only hope that this will mean many more visits in the future.”
“Quiet, my dear,” Eleanor said easily. “I was not sure if they would come myself, but I have missed Lord and Lady Crompton’s company.”
Nicholas tried to recall these names being bandied about but came up with nothing. The Crompton name did stir something in the back of his mind, perhaps a scandal about a sister? He had heard it through a friend of a friend. But he had been abroad at the time it broke. London’s scandals were not so very important to him then.
As Rosemary and his aunt began to enthuse over the arrangements, he felt uncertain at the prospect of the upcoming party. It was a selective guest list, so at least he would not have to socialize with dozens of people. Yet, he would prefer it was just the three of them for Christmas.
He did not like socializing with people who saw him for histitle and reputation alone. He had enjoyed freedoms in Europe that he could never have cultivated in England, but he was not naive enough to believe his exploits would not have reached English shores.
He had cultivated a carefree and open persona on the continent. Some might even call him a rake, but he did not regret losing himself to pleasure and vice. It had been a difficult time, and his freer proclivities had enabled him to move past the heartache—it had felt like a necessary evil. No, he did not regret it, but he was not proud of it.
The thought of packing his rakish ways into a box to become the man everyone expected him to be was not a fulfilling prospect.
He shifted in his seat, schooling his expression into neutral amusement. The easy-going man he presented to the world was not who he truly was. He was loathe to remind himself of who he had once been—the loving, dutiful fool Victoria had destroyed without hesitation.
He did not relish losing the life he had carefully built for himself, and yet a small part of him wondered whether that might not be for the best. Perhaps this Christmas would herald some changes.
One cannot persist on a lie forever.
CHAPTER THREE
A week later, Clarissa listened to the crunch of snow beneath the carriage wheels as the Crompton family pulled up to Lady Kingston’s manor.
The journey had been uneventful, apart from Emily’s excitement. Clarissa had been grateful for the continuous chatter of her cousin to prevent her mind from reeling in every direction at once.
The closer they came to the manor, the more her mind was flooded with memories. She had been unable to keep Catherine’s face out of her mind.
What will people say? Will the scandal still follow us wherever we go? Was this a mistake?
