protectively in front of her.
“Maybe you need George as much as he needs you.”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
Weston shrugged. “I don’t know what happened, but the entire carriage ride here he went on and on about how he despised his life and wanted to change it. That he was ready to settle down and how much he wanted a family. And a wife.” He shook his head. “He talked about you, Sam. I think he’d already made up his mind to leave Windowmere after the house party and go directly to Rockwell to see you.”
He saw that his words stunned her. Good. She needed to be shaken out of the depths of her misery. Relief filled him. He knew he could leave—and she would be in good hands with the man he trusted beyond all others.
“At least George was thinking about me,” she said. “You never did.”
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I was a selfish bastard who forgot about you once you left London. You were someone else’s responsibility. Not mine. And I relished that. I was tired of being decent and honorable and always doing the right thing. So, I stopped doing it. You weren’t around to see my fall. When you returned the next Season, it had already occurred.”
Weston released a long sigh. “I’ve dug myself deep into a pit, Sam. An abyss of my own making. I didn’t want to drag you down with me. I thought with you gone, I could do whatever I wanted.”
She touched his arm. “Why, Weston? What happened between you and Lady Juniper? What could be so awful that it would make you hate yourself and everyone around you?”
He shook his head. His shame would stay with him. “No. You’ll not get that out of me. Thank God she’s dead and gone and I never have to see her again,”
He couldn’t hide the bitterness. The only good thing that had happened since he broke from Juniper was hearing of her death. She and Kingsbury had been racing their phaetons in Hyde Park three years ago and Juniper had lost control. The resulting crash had taken her life. In his grief, her brother went straight home and shot himself. Polite Society mourned their deaths, two young, vibrant souls being taken far too soon. Weston had celebrated by getting soused and staying that way for a week.
He saw the concern written on Sam’s face and couldn’t stand the thought of her pitying him. “I am what I am now, Sam. I won’t have a change of heart. Not like George. He might be able to save himself. You might be the one to help him. I’m just a blackguard of the worst kind. I have no heart or soul left.”
Weston placed his hand over hers. “I do love you. I always will.” He leaned to kiss her cheek. “But I never should have come to Windowmere. Say my goodbyes to everyone.”
He smiled sadly and left the room, thinking he should go and tell Wilson to pack. Instead, he went to his room and gathered up what coin he had and made his way to Andrew’s stables, where he asked for a horse to be readied. As he rode the mount toward Exeter, he decided he desperately wanted to fix himself. George thought he could do so by marrying Sam and having a family and Weston was all for that. The two people he thought the most of would have a good life together. For him, one woman wouldn’t solve his problems. He didn’t believe in love and would never wed. He was tired of his life, though. Tired of wasting it. Fed up. Exhausted. Jaded by his experiences.
What if he chucked it all—at least for a little while?
No more mindless encounters with women. No more being the Duke of Disrepute wherever he went. Or even the Duke of Treadwell. What if he escaped and had the time to discover himself, who he truly was and who he wanted to be in the future? Nothing held him back. He could walk away and give himself the gift of time. He knew he would never totally heal. The scars cutting through his heart could never be erased. But he might figure out what he wanted in life and make a fresh start. He couldn’t face decades of the life he now lived, else he’d go mad.
Reaching Exeter, he rode to an inn he had stayed at before and dismounted, leading his horse to the