“Callie thought it would be a good way of keeping Juliana in the public eye,” Ralston answered, refusing to rise to his brother’s bait. “I might remind you that our sister suffers from something of an unfortunate reputation.”
Nick growled into his scotch. “For no reason other than because our mother was a—”
“Yes. Well, society seems not to care much for the hows and whys.” Ralston leaned forward to add more of the amber liquid to Nick’s glass. “Callie is happy that you are here, Nick. Juliana shall be, as well. Try to enjoy yourself tonight.”
Enjoy himself.
As though that were possible.
It had been five days since he had left Isabel, and he hadn’t enjoyed a moment of the time. He highly doubted that spending the night in a darkened garden with simpering London misses and their clamoring mothers would change that.
Indeed, he was fairly certain that spending the night in a darkened garden would make him think of Isabel. And he was entirely certain that spending the night dancing with women who were not Isabel would render him quite mad.
“There is something you should know.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What is that?”
“You are still considered to be a very valuable catch. I assume many of the women here tonight will be here for you.”
“I am married.”
“That information has not been made public, as you know. Indeed, one would have thought you would have told your brother of the change in your status sometime before you arrived back in London, ready to chew nails.”
Nick told his brother precisely what he could do with that thought.
Ralston leaned back in his chair. “I will say that anyone who has ever considered you the good-natured brother will be in for a surprise this evening.”
Nick stood then, irrational anger flaring. “Then perhaps I shall leave and save you all the trouble of having to suffer my company.”
“Sit down, you ridiculous ass.”
Nick towered over his brother. “Call me that one more time.”
Ralston made a show of calmly swirling the scotch in his glass. “I am not going to fight you in my study, in my formal-wear. Callie would have my head.”
Ralston’s unmoved response took the wind from Nick.
He sat again, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands, scrubbing his face as though he could erase his frustration. When he looked up, Ralston was watching him with complete understanding. “She has done a number on you, brother.”
It was the first time that Ralston had referenced Isabel outside of the short, clipped conversation during which Nick had announced his marriage, and Nick knew that he could ignore the words and his twin would allow him the space he needed.
But he did not want to ignore them.
He wanted to talk about her … as though the words could bring her closer.
As though they could make her love him.
He ignored the pain that flared at the words. “She is … incredible.”
Ralston did not reply. He simply listened.
Nick began to talk, more to himself than to his brother. “She has such strength in her, like no one I’ve ever known. When she believes in something, or when she fights for what is hers—she’s a queen. She is nothing like the women we know. If something needs doing, she does it.” He looked up at him. “The first time I kissed her, she was wearing breeches.”
One side of Ralston’s mouth kicked up in a smile. “There is something about them in breeches.”
“But there’s a softness to her, as well. A deep-rooted uncertainty that makes me want to protect her with everything I have.” Nick scrubbed his jaw with one hand as he thought of her. “And she’s so beautiful. With these brown eyes … eyes you could just lose yourself in …” He trailed off, thinking about her. Missing her.
“You love her.”
Nick met his twin’s knowing gaze. “More than I ever thought possible.”
Ralston leaned back in his chair. “So why are you here, drinking scotch in my study?”
“Because she doesn’t love me.”
“Nonsense.” The word came fast and frank.
Nick shook his head. “I appreciate your affront, Gabriel, but I assure you. Isabel does not love me.”
“Of course she loves you,” he said imperiously, as though he could make it so simply by being the Marquess of Ralston.
“She doesn’t.”
“They always love us.”
Nick gave a little huff of laughter at the pronouncement. “Yes, well, perhaps they always love you. However, this one does not love me.”
“Well, then you must make her love you.”
Nick shook his head again. “No. I am through with trying to make women love me. I’ve spent my entire life chasing after women who were decidedly not in love with me. I have learned my lesson.”
Ralston leveled him with a frank look. “This is not chasing after some woman. This is your wife. Whom you do, in fact, love.”
God, he did love her.
He’d never felt anything like the pain that had exploded through him at her announcement that she had married him for duty and not for love, but that pain did not seem to diminish his feelings for her.
He raked his fingers through his hair. “She doesn’t need me.”
Ralston smirked. “You are laboring under the mistaken impression that it is their job to need us. In my experience, it is almost always the other way around.” He checked his watch. “A wiser man than I once told me that if he’d been a royal ass and lost the only woman he’d ever really wanted, he’d get her to the nearest vicar and then get her with child.”