Page 41 of The Spinster and Her Rakish Duke (The Athena Society #3)
He did not know how long he stood there before the next interruption came, this time without the courtesy of a knock. The door swung open to reveal Ralph, his expression thunderous.
“What the devil did you say to Percy?” his friend demanded without preamble. “The boy looks as though you’ve struck him.”
“I merely suggested he focus on more appropriate pursuits than flirting with debutantes,” Ewan replied coldly.
Ralph crossed the room in three long strides. “Nonsense. Percy adores Miss Waverly, and the sentiment appears to be mutual. What possible objection could you have to his attending her musical evening?”
“He is becoming frivolous,” Ewan said, the words, though spoken, bore no weight even to his own ear. “Distracted from his responsibilities.”
“Responsibilities?” Ralph echoed incredulously. “The boy is nineteen! His responsibilities are to learn, to grow, to discover his place in the world. And from what I’ve observed, his poetic nature suits Miss Waverly’s temperament perfectly.”
“I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter.”
“No, you haven’t asked for anyone’s opinion on anything lately,” Ralph agreed, his tone sharpening. “Not about Percy, not about the estate, and certainly not about your wife.”
Ewan’s head snapped up, a warning in his eyes. “Do not speak of her.”
“Why not? It is obvious now that someone ought to. The entire household walks on eggshells, forbidden to mention the woman who brought life back to this mausoleum you call home. Percy is devastated by her absence. And you—” Ralph paused, his gaze assessing.
“You’re destroying yourself, Ewan. And for what? Pride? Fear?”
“You know nothing of my reasons,” Ewan growled.
“Oh, I know more than you think,” Ralph countered.
“I know you’re terrified of becoming your father.
I know you’ve spent your entire life running from his shadow.
But here’s what you fail to see, my friend—in your desperate attempt to be nothing like him, you’re becoming something just as destructive. ”
“Get out.” The words emerged as barely more than a whisper, lethal in their quietude.
But Ralph was not so easily cowed. “Your father isolated himself from all who loved him. He pushed away genuine affection. He made those around him miserable with his coldness. Tell me, Ewan—how exactly are you different in this moment?”
The blow came without conscious thought. Ewan’s fist connecting with the solid oak of his desk rather than his friend’s jaw, only by the slimmest margin of restraint.
“I said get out!” he roared, the pain in his hand a welcome counterpoint to the agony in his chest.
Ralph regarded him steadily, unmoved by the display. “You try so hard not to become like your family that you end up destroying all your happiness,” he said quietly. “And that, my friend, is the greatest tragedy of all.”
The door closed behind him with a decisive click, leaving Ewan alone with the echo of words that cut deeper than any blade. He sank into his chair, cradling his bruised hand, the physical pain insignificant compared to the void that had taken residence where his heart should be.
Night fell, and still he sat, the ledgers forgotten, the emptiness of the townhouse pressing in around him like a physical weight.
In the darkest hours, when even the servants had retired and London’s ceaseless noise had dimmed to the occasional distant carriage, he finally allowed himself to whisper her name.
“Samantha.”
The sound hung in the air, both prayer and curse, longing and regret intertwined in those four syllables that had somehow come to mean everything.
The next two days passed in a similar fashion, with Ewan avoiding Percy, snapping at servants, burying himself in estate matters that required no immediate attention while neglecting those that did.
He rode out alone at dawn, pushing his horse to dangerous speeds across Hyde Park before the fashionable crowds appeared.
He returned only when physical exhaustion demanded it, hoping that sheer fatigue might grant him a few hours of dreamless sleep.
It rarely did.
On the fifth day of Samantha’s absence, Ralph reappeared, his expression suggesting he expected no warmer welcome than their last encounter had provided.
“Before you order me from your presence again,” he said as he entered the study without waiting to be announced, “I should inform you that I’ve come with news.”
Ewan looked up from the correspondence he had been attempting to focus on for the better part of an hour. “What news?”
“Your duchess attended the Athena Society meeting yesterday,” Ralph replied, watching closely for his reaction. “Lady Jane mentioned it when I called upon Lord Norfeld’s household this morning.”
Something tightened in Ewan’s chest, although between hope or dread, he could not say which it truly was. “Is she… well?”
Ralph’s expression softened just a fraction. “According to Lady Jane, she is bearing up admirably, though she sleeps poorly and has little appetite.”
The knowledge that Samantha suffered as he did brought Ewan no satisfaction—only a deepening of his own pain. “Why have you come to tell me this?”
“Because someone must break through this ridiculous impasse,” Ralph replied bluntly. “Whatever disagreement has driven you apart, surely it cannot be worth the misery you’re both clearly experiencing.”
Ewan turned away, unable to meet his friend’s searching gaze. “Some differences cannot be reconciled, regardless of… sentiment.”
“Sentiment?” Ralph echoed incredulously. “Is that what you call it? For God’s sake, Ewan, you love the woman! Anyone with eyes can see it. And she quite clearly returns the feeling, if her current state is any indication.”
“Love is not always sufficient,” Ewan said softly.
“Perhaps not,” Ralph conceded, his voice gentling. “But it is certainly necessary. And worth fighting for, I should think.”
Ewan remained silent, his gaze fixed on the gardens below where Samantha’s roses continued their relentless blooming, heedless of her absence.
“Percy intends to call upon her,” Ralph continued after a moment. “He’s quite determined to repair the breach between you, with or without your approval.”