Forever My Love (Berkeley-Faulkner #2)(2)

“Oh… yes,” Sackville muttered. “But have a tolerance, man, for those who wish to comfort you and those who feel the loss just as keenly as you—”

“No one felt the loss as keenly as I did,” Alec interrupted bluntly, “though it’s fashionable to pretend so.” His face was expressionless, but something in his eyes led Sackville to believe that the statement was one not of self-pity but of cynicism.

“Holt was a well-liked man,” Sackville said quietly. “I had considered canceling the hunt this year for fear that it would be overshadowed by the memories of him in the midst of this same gathering only last September.”

“Have no fear. Give our distinguished assemblage a few bottles…” Alec paused and took another swallow of brandy, “... a few baubles, some music, and a dance or two—they’ll forget him soon enough.”

“Falkner,” Sackville said, his lightly lined face creasing in worry, “I don’t like the sound of this. Granted, you have never been the most tenderhearted of souls, but I don’t want you turnin’ into a hard-hearted fellow.”

“What would you rather have me do?” Alec inquired mockingly. “Cry in my cups?”

“I’m not one for tellin’ you what to do, ‘cause God knows you’d be inclined to do the opposite. But it’s

been more than half a year, Falkner, and soon your friends will stop excusing your coldness because of Holt and start drifting away. Oh, you’ll still have the hangers-on… the ones who are after your money and all you can do for them… but once your real friends start to turn away, it’s hard to get ‘em back.”

Alec stared at him silently, inscrutably, and then he smiled.

“This isn’t like you, Sackville—a lecture before I even get ‘hello’ and ‘how are you.’ ”

“I only lecture you when I know you need it.”

“Which is what makes you a valuable friend,” Alec replied, splaying one large hand over the bust’s scalp and drumming his fingers on the smooth marble brow. “Well, then… lecture more, if you please. Tell me of a curative for cynicism. Tell me how to look beyond simpers, insincerity, and hypocrisy—for, God help me, that’s all I can see in every face I look at.”

“A change of scene,” Sackville suggested. “That’s what you need. Italy, France^—”

“I’ve tried that already. Same faces, same paintings, same food… same boredom.”

“A new horse—”

“I have too many horses as it is.”

“Perhaps,” Sackville said hopefully, “you could try to find comfort in the company of your family.”

Alec grinned, shaking his head. “I have too many relatives as it is. And every last one of them is intolerable.”

“Then try a woman.”

“I have—”

“Not one of your rented doxies,” Sackville interrupted. “A real woman. The same woman, for at least a few months. Someone to be comfortable with, someone who knows what you like to drink and how to tie your cravat. By God, have you ever tried having a steady woman? It’s wonderful, and I recommend it thoroughly.”

“You’re damned enthusiastic about it, aren’t you?” Alec remarked thoughtfully. “Does this attitude have anything to do with the rumors I’ve heard about you? Is is true that you’ve got a mistress living with you here in the manor?”

Sackville smiled widely. “The most exquisite creature you’ll ever rest eyes upon,” he admitted. “Warm, passionate… she’s taken an empty life and made it paradise on earth.”

“God.” Alec looked at him, one corner of his mouth turning up wryly. “How are you going to handle all of… this… with her here?”

“You mean the hunt?” Sackville inquired, waving his hand around in a dismissive gesture. “She’ll stay out of sight most of the time, reading and so forth in her room. She’s not much for socializing with this sort of crowd. She prefers… er…”

“She prefers one thing and probably does it quite well,” Alec finished for him, smiling ruefully. “Does she have a sister?”

“I’m afraid not. She’s one of a kind, Falkner… and I don’t share.”

Their companionable conversation continued as they left the library and walked upstairs, where the groom of the chambers had prepared the rooms for the guests. They always had a great deal to discuss, for despite the disparities in their ages, Alec being twenty-eight and Sackville almost thirty years older, they had much in common. Each had inherited a title and fortune in his schoolroom years, and all the problems associated with having too much power at too young an age.

Somewhere in Alec’s mind had always lurked the resentment of having been forced to take on the responsibilities of family, land, and tenants when he was still in his teens. The death of his father had forced Alec to become a man overnight, robbing him of the carelessness and the frolicking that his peers were enjoying. He had come to rely on his cousin for

companionship and laughter. Wild, reckless Holt had lured him into many unsavory adventures, never failing to provide a break from the monotony of responsibility and work. Sneaking women up to Alec’s rooms and leaving them there as a surprise… sending messages in the middle of the night that begged clownishly for companionship at a disreputable bar… mischievous, lively Holt, who had fallen in and out of love once a week and had coaxed Alec to join him in drinking to the ficklenesss of women. “You need me around,” Holt had often told him, “because everyone else takes you too damned seriously.” Now that Holt was gone, Alec knew just how true that had been.