Page 44

Sam

“I received another letter from Robbie,” Molls said from across the table in the servants’ quarters.

He and Molly tried to have small bites to eat together when they could. The kitchen was always a hustle bustle of servants rushing in and out, whether seeing to tasks or grabbing a bit of sustenance to see them through the day.

“He and Neville are doing well. They’re living with a woman named Colette at the moment, and they love her. Said she’s just like Cook.” She continued chattering happily about the things Robbie and his partner had been about.

Sam was delighted for the young footman, but the conversation faded in and out, his thoughts elsewhere.

Ash was married now. He and Lady Felicity had wed in a small ceremony in the local chapel.

It had been a very quiet event, little flourish—the benefit of securing a common license and marrying in haste.

Sam could only imagine the public spectacle a duke marrying would bring.

And he couldn’t picture his reclusive best mate handling that attention well.

So, it was a perfect wedding for the two of them.

And pretty soon, the rest of the Jennings family would be departing.

Which was why Sam was stuck in his head.

It appeared that Lady Bentley wanted to remain at least another sennight to be with her daughter.

But Sam wasn’t certain what Felix’s plans were, given he’d already been here a sennight with his sister and was probably tiring of Devonford Castle.

He was definitely tiring of Sam if the way he was avoiding Sam’s glances was any indication.

Sam gnawed on his lip. He wasn’t sure the man even remembered his drunken night spent in Sam’s arms.

“You’re quiet,” Molls said, a bite of cheese hovering in front of her mouth.

Sam tore off another piece of bread. “I beg your pardon, Molls. Lost in thought, I suppose.”

“Thought? You have those?”

Sam chucked his piece of bread at her, and she darted out of the way, a grin breaking out on her face. “Imp.”

Her grin softened. “So, why so quiet?”

He glanced toward the bells on the wall.

One in particular. One that, if it rang, Sam didn’t need to answer any longer.

Because Giles was here. The poor old cove.

Sam was a little afraid the castle was going to do the man in.

Three flights of stairs just to advance one floor was a lot for those knobby knees.

He’d offered to step in for the man. But the man had clearly been much too proud to take the assistance.

Felix probably wouldn’t have been pleased anyhow.

But Sam was starting to get desperate, looking for excuses to even just lay eyes on the man.

“No reason. Have you seen Giles, the Bentley valet? I wanted to make sure he hadn’t run out of boot polish.”

Molly cocked her head, a lock of brown hair falling over her cheek. “He departed, didn’t you know? Lord Bentley left earlier this morning, obviously with his valet in tow.”

The ground seemed to tilt out from beneath him, a muted buzzing filling his ears.

Felix had left. Again. He pulled roughly at his cravat, the fabric suddenly much too tight.

Like maybe Felix had tied it instead, with the intention of taking away Sam’s ability to breathe.

It sure as bloody hell felt like that was what the man had done.

“This all feels oddly familiar,” Sam finally said, somehow managing to keep his words even.

“Oh?”

“We had nearly this same conversation eight months ago.” He shoved a piece of bread in his mouth, taking away the need to force a smile he knew he couldn’t summon. Only now his mouth was dry as the sodding desert, and he had a hunk of bread he’d probably never manage to swallow stuck in his mouth.

“Huh. Did we, truly?” Molls chuckled. “I don’t remember that at all.”

Sam remembered. With alarming clarity. He shrugged noncommittally.

Well, he guessed that was that, wasn’t it? It didn’t get more clear than a man slipping away without a farewell. His stomach turned over. Twice.

Sam had been the one to walk away more often than not.

Whatever had transpired between he and Felix was over.

Not a surprise, given how rocky things had been between them the past few days.

The dust from Bentley’s departing carriage was just the closing mark on it all.

The end to the story of Felix and Sam. Not that there was any story to tell.

Liar.

It was better this way. Things ending cleanly before he’d had a chance to develop feelings.

He’d been getting careless. It’d been too easy to let his guard down around the man.

Almost like they’d been in their own small world, untouchable by reality.

They both had known it’d end after the wedding, and Felix would have to return home at some point.

Right. Exactly. This was good. Great, even.

Liar.

Maybe that’s why he’d forgotten to stay detached.

It’s not as though there was any real risk falling for a man he couldn’t stand, and in a week’s time, no less.

That didn’t happen. Which was exactly why the smarting behind his breastbone was most definitely not caused by feelings . Most definitely not.

Liar.

God fucking damn it, you witless brain. Shut the bloody hell up.

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur, a mixture of Sam arguing with himself and losing and trying to find tasks to distract himself from the feelings he was not feeling. Now he was in Ash’s room, having just helped his friend ready for dinner.

“So, how does it feel? Married again? Different this time?”

Ash groaned from where he sat at his dressing table. “Is it foolish that I feel guilty when I say it feels a million times better?”

Sam leaned against the bed and crossed his arms. “Yes, and no. I know you wanted to make that marriage into something it was never going to be. Because you’re a good man, Ash.

You cared for Winnifred. I know you might not think so, but she was extremely lucky to have you. You’re a rare find in this world.”

His friend’s piercing blue eyes met his. “I wish it were easier to let it all go, to not feel like I failed her.”

“I know, mate. Her Grace will help you get there; I have no doubt. She’s a stubborn one. I think you’ve met your match with her.”

“Oh, I most definitely have,” Ash said with a smile. “Add in how well she gets along with Pandora? There won’t be a dull moment at Devonford Castle for a long while.”

“Excellent news. We could all use some excitement.”

Ash winged a brow. “Oh? I had thought you’d been having your fair share of excitement.”

“Not any longer,” Sam grumbled, staring blindly across the room. Considering his excitement had fled in a carriage earlier that morn. Which was entirely fine. Perfectly. Exceedingly, in fact.

“Speaking of Bentley… He gave me something for you.”

Sam’s head jerked toward Ash, then his gaze dropped to the letter in his friend’s hand.

“I’m going to go down for dinner,” Ash said. “I don’t know what’s in this letter, but I thought you might want a moment alone to read it. You’re welcome to stay in here as long as you need.”

Sam took the letter from his friend’s grasp, gaze flipping up to meet Ash’s. “Why does that sound so ominous?”

Ash’s gaze darted away. “I know he left without saying farewell to you, Sam. And there’d been something in his eyes when he’d given this to me. I don’t really know. I just have a feeling that maybe there’s something important in there?”

“I’m not sure what that would possibly be. We were nothing more than a passing fancy. A convenient shag.”

“Mmm,” Ash said, quite obviously not believing Sam one bit.

The man didn’t know what he was about.

“Regardless. Read it. I’m going down to dinner.”

“Enjoy,” Sam murmured, gaze glued to the letter in his hands. He slowly walked over to one of the armchairs in front of the hearth, turning the letter over in his hands.

He sat down heavily and unfolded it: Thorne, I must apologize for my abrupt departure.

Or perhaps I should say departures. I’m not sure if you remember—you probably don’t—but I left in a similar manner last year.

That one was definitely cowardice. This one isn’t.

Well, I suppose it is in a way. But this time I wanted to explain.

I’m not sure if this is something you care about at all, and I feel foolish writing this because a person doesn’t write an explanatory note to a casual liaison.

But here I am doing it, anyway. I swear I’ve lost my mind over here.

I’m not sure what’s happened to me, besides an infestation of botflies, perhaps.

Dear Lord, what am I saying in this blasted note?

What I mean to say is, I wanted you to know that I have some things in my past that I have struggled to move beyond.

I thought I could with you. And I think you can probably piece together, based on what passed between us a few days ago…

Clearly, I haven’t. I’m not so sure I’ll ever be able to.

But I wanted to assure you this has everything to do with me, and nothing to do with you.

Which I’m sure you also know. We both know how highly you think of your…

abilities. And while I don’t necessarily want to feed into your high opinion of yourself, I’ll confirm you are correct to boast. Anyhow, it’s time for me to make the journey back home.

I have some things I need to work through for myself.

But I would be remiss if I didn’t let you know that while this may have been casual, it meant a great deal to me.

You gave me back something I wasn’t sure I would ever have again.

So, I want to say thank you. I’m sorry for the way our week ended.

But I’m not sorry it happened. And if I could do it all over again, with it ending the same way, I’d do it again.

But only if it was with you. For now, I need to be home.

I need familiar. I need comfort. My place of safety.

I should have at least said farewell in person.

You deserved that from me. That’s where my cowardice is shining through again.

I won’t get into the reasons why I didn’t.

But I don’t think it would have been good for either of us. I wish you all the best. Bentley

The letter fluttered to Sam’s lap, and he dropped his head into his hands.

He squeezed his eyes shut. All that talking his mind had been doing?

It was bloody right. It was too late for Sam.

The bruised throbbing organ in his chest was proof of that.

The most bittersweet pain wrapped around his lungs and tightened.

He understood why Felix had to go. He was going through something and needed to be where he felt at ease.

Sam couldn’t fault the man for that. He knew exactly how important it was to have a place where one felt safe.

He’d seen the deterioration of the indomitable Earl of Bentley.

Sam hoped the man found what he needed to get well.

The emptiness inside his chest grew. And what Bentley needed was clearly not Sam.

And if I could do it all over again, with it ending the same way, I’d do it again. But only if it was with you.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and willed the burn to fade.

It hurt now, but he knew it would pass. Before he knew it, he’d be looking at this all as a fond memory.

He was being daft, but he couldn’t stop the acidic taste from coating his tongue.

The one that tasted like worthlessness. Like not being enough.

This was exactly why Sam avoided entanglements. As much as he kept himself closed off, as much as he never let anyone past the cavalier, insouciant exterior he’d created, apparently the heart no one else wanted…still yearned for the impossible.

He stood and walked up to the hearth. It was better to learn it now, that whatever small spark had lit inside Sam was so easily doused by Bentley. Because if it hurt now, it would only hurt that much more if Sam truly let his feelings get the best of him.

He knew how that ended.

How it always did: Abandoned. Betrayed. Broken.

He tossed the letter onto the glowing coals, the parchment instantly curling, black eating away Bentley’s words until nothing but ash remained. Sam could relate to that slip of parchment. His family had done the same to his heart all those years ago.

Bentley leaving earlier rather than later was a blessing, really.

A really depressing blessing.