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his clammy hands along his trousers as he forced himself to meet his father’s gaze.

“Well, of course, it isn’t.” His father waved a hand in the air, nearly spilling his tea. “Show me any soldier who isn’t changed irrevocably by battle. Especially an officer who must lead his men forward even when he knows they’ll face death.” He leaned forward, his gaze intent. “If you weren’t changed, it would mean you had no empathy for life.”

James considered his father’s passionate words. “While that might be true, I fear the change in me isn’t for the better.”

His mother shifted closer and placed her hand over his. “We know it’s been difficult. We can see that. Give yourself more time.”

James looked away from her pleading expression. “I’ve been back nearly six months. It’s not improving.”

“How can you expect improvement when you’re filling your time with gambling, drinking, and women?” His father set aside his cup as he held James’ gaze. “Your roguish ways might fill the void temporarily, but what you need in your life is purpose.”

“I don’t disagree. I’m just not certain what that purpose would be.” James lifted his hand to stop his mother as she opened her mouth, for he knew what she’d suggest. “I can’t marry. Not now. Perhaps not ever. I don’t sleep through the night. There are days when I don’t leave my apartment. I have trouble focusing.” He pressed a hand briefly to his forehead. “I would make a terrible husband and an even worse father.”

“That’s not true,” his mother protested, her voice quivering with emotion.

James rested his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his hands over his face uncertain how much more to share. Would additional details and examples make them understand how broken he was? Even Charlotte seemed to have realized it at last as she no longer intended to see him.

“I appreciate what you’ve told us,” his father began.

James lifted his head and could easily see his mother was about to protest. But the look his father gave her had her pausing.

“There is no rush to decide your future,” his father said. “Why don’t you take more time to consider it? Meanwhile, you could join me at the barrister’s.”

How could he allow them to keep their hope when he had already decided? “But I don’t think—”

“At the very least, you’ll need to be able to keep an eye on Marcus if you refuse the title.”

“Marcus is more worried about what he’ll have at his next meal than land and tenants.” His mother shook her head. “Wait until you see him again.”

His father managed a smile at her comment. “He has grown out more than up.” Then he stood and stepped closer to James who also rose. “Son, we only want the best for you. Whatever that is. You’ve been through so much. Allow yourself more time to adjust.” Then to James’ shock, he wrapped his arms around him.

The earl rarely showed affection. But the long embrace eased the tightness in James’ chest considerably as he returned it. He hadn’t realized the heavy burden his thoughts about the future had caused until he’d released them.

His father leaned back, blinking suspiciously. “There’s no rush to make any decisions. Your mother and I are just happy you’re here.”

James glanced over to see his mother dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. Then she rose and hugged him as well.

“Thank you both,” he managed.

“Let me call for a fresh pot of tea,” his mother said and moved to ring the bell.

They settled into their chairs and filled their plates once more.

“Lord Mumford mentioned an endeavor the other day that might interest you,” his father said. “The Earl of Granger has started some sort of charity for soldiers who’ve returned from the war and are in need of assistance.”

“Oh, yes,” James said. “Granger mentioned he wanted to speak with me. Perhaps that is what it’s regarding.” He’d nearly forgotten about the message he’d received from the earl the previous day.

“Find a purpose beyond those of a rogue.” His father nodded. “That will help.”

If only it were that simple, James thought as the conversation moved on to less weighty topics. But doing so certainly wouldn’t hurt. He needed to do something with his time. The idea of being of use appealed to him, and if it helped remind him that he hadn’t always been broken, all the better. He couldn’t help but think Charlotte would agree with much of what his parents had said. The afternoon’s conversation had certainly given him much to consider.

“Tell me more about the latest news on Cousin Marcus,” he said as he reached for another cake.

Chapter Fifteen

Charlotte greeted Lord and Lady Huxley, then waited for her mother to do the same before they moved into the ballroom together. Her stomach tightened with each step, and she wished she were anywhere but at the ball. The fact that her mother had accompanied her only made her feel worse. Lady Wynn would be watching her every move once Lord Samuelson arrived.

“The décor is horrendous,” her mother murmured as they viewed the room where a mirrored wall reflected the guests along with an amazing amount of gilt on every possible surface. Even the potted plants had some sort of golden glitter on their leaves.

Lady Huxley’s garish taste was less than pleasing to Charlotte’s eye as well. “Perhaps a bit overdone,” she agreed.

The other guests who had recently arrived seemed equally taken aback based on the whispers and frowns as they glanced about.

The ball wasn’t one they’d planned on attending, but Lord Samuelson mentioned he’d be going when he called the previous day so her mother had changed her mind.

The hollow feeling inside Charlotte made her feel fragile as if a bump or misstep might shatter her. The sense of impending doom didn’t help either. There was no other way to describe how she felt about Lord Samuelson’s courtship.

“Now remember what we discussed,” her mother said as they took a turn around

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