and play the piano together. None of that had mattered to her. She had taken her love from him, abandoned him, never once looked back. That day, he had wrapped his sentiments in a deeper layer of indifference, burying the pain in a place inside that would never see it surface again.
When he’d left the ball, he’d seen the countess waiting outside, appearing almost anxious and regretful. She had stepped toward him, but Hugh hadn’t paused and had strode past as if she were an insubstantial shadow. The whisper of his name had curled on the air, but he hadn’t looked back.
He had returned to Glencairn Castle the following week, finally for the first time in his life ruminating that perhaps his father’s fear of him never finding a wife once he returned to England might have some bearing. It was a fear he had brushed off several times as an exaggeration from a man who ignored the delicate intricacies of society for too long. The old earl often planned Hugh’s return to England as if he were some exiled prince returning to conquer his land. Since his twelfth year, his father had impressed upon him that he belonged to the British peerage, and he would prepare him to stalwartly endure life within that society. He had prepared Hugh for England as if he would face a battalion across enemy lines instead of lord and ladies in the ton. Too often he had said, “Father, it is not a battlefield.”
To which his father would squint his eyes and say, “It is, my boy, it is.”
His father’s earnestness had amused him at times, but Hugh had obediently mastered all the lessons brought before him—the art of war, politics—a deep intensive study of the Whigs and Tories, their policies, weaknesses and strengths, literature, philosophy. His father had taught him about honor, friendship, how to think like a businessman, and even how to analyze cunningly, and of course, ballroom dancing.
The old earl had attempted to teach him the delicate art of wooing and courtship, but those many lessons had been about the treachery and duplicitous nature of a beautiful woman, and how to best avoid actually marrying anyone “too enchanting, bold, and too decided with her thoughts and opinions”—simply put, the opposite of Hugh’s mother.
“Did you hear me?” the old earl snapped, a hard edge to his tone. He shifted slightly and peered at him. “You are my son…and my heir, Caroline and William are my beloved children, and never shall we speak of this again.”
There was no shame in his father’s eyes. Only a fierce pride and such burning love that a lump formed in Hugh’s throat. He signed, “I will select a lady from the list, and I will marry her within the month.” This he could do for the man who had given up everything for him—even the fierce and unwavering pride of the Winthrops.
His father smiled, his first in days. “I am very pleased to hear that.”
That half smile slipped from his father’s lips and his dark green eyes grew distant. “Remember,” his father cautioned, “love has no place within a marriage. That useless, trite, and overly bothersome concept has been the downfall of many fine families. Including ours. Do not ever forget.”
“I am not likely to, considering how often you’ve mentioned it over the years.” Hugh once again looked toward the crashing waves against the cliffside.
His father wasted his breath in warning him that he must not love. Hugh truly had no expectations in regard to anyone. If the lady who was supposed to love him more than anything else had left to simply live a life as unfettered as possible, why would he have any expectations of love or loyalty from anyone? The entire notion was laughable and did not even merit a discussion.
Hugh was indifferent to the idea of such sentiments, never having sat down and yearned after the blasted thing. Despite his father’s many warnings over the years, Hugh possessed a very determined will, and if he truly wanted something, nothing could prevent him from seeking it. He suspected it was this that his father worried about, that one day he might want this love that had the power to ruin him. Rubbish. What sort of fool would he be to allow an intangible idea to inflict havoc with his life?
“Love has a way of creeping upon you when it is least expected,” the old earl said with a probing stare. “You must be on