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agree,” Margaret said decisively. “What do you intend to do?”

“Other than continue to protest as you suggested, I don’t know. And I thought to speak plainly with Lord Samuelson at the first opportunity.”

“Hmm. That will not please your father.”

“Good.” Perhaps that was one way to make him realize how determined she was to share a life with James. Any other option was unbearable to consider.

Chapter Eighteen

James smiled with satisfaction as he left the Earl of Granger’s registry office the following afternoon. The entire day had been a productive one. In all honesty, he hadn't felt this good in a long time with the exception of the hours he spent with Charlotte.

Earlier in the day, he’d joined his father at the barrister's office for a lengthy meeting. They had gone over the estates, tenants, and holdings in great detail until James’ head had spun. No wonder his father was anxious for him to become involved. There was much to be done and a few significant improvements to be made. He’d thought assisting his father with what he expected to be mundane work would be less than appealing, but now he realized his father truly needed help.

The meeting had been an unwelcome reminder that Lord Redmond was indeed growing older and soon wouldn't be able to easily deal with all the decisions and details required to manage his holdings. The sense of purpose that now filled James helped to compensate for it, along with his father’s pleasure in having him involved.

His father seemed eager to consult with him on everything regarding the holdings. He advised the barrister to keep James apprised of the plans they made from this point forward.

To hell with James’ cousin, Marcus. He would have to find his own path. James was claiming what was rightfully his.

Pride had filled him at the pleased surprise on his father’s face when he shared the success of the investments he’d made since his return. Both his father and the barrister had been impressed with his results.

A few costly improvements needed to be made on their country estate—ones that might take years to see the return on and which his father had been reluctant to make. But with James’ help and a few of his suggestions, they could make the changes immediately before the price to do so rose.

After enjoying luncheon with his mother and father at their home, he had left to meet Granger and his men at the registry office, almost wishing he hadn’t promised to go.

Speaking with Thomas Barnaby and Stanley Polton, his former men, had resulted in a mix of emotions. The sight of the empty pant legs where their limbs were missing filled James with sorrow and guilt, making him wonder once again why he’d returned home without injuries.

But those feelings slowly faded as they’d spoken. They’d been pleased to see him. When he praised their decision to take on apprenticeships, both beamed. One confessed how difficult life had been since his return home before he discovered the registry office.

“There were days when I didn't want to get out of bed,” Barnaby said, his dark eyes filled with shadows.

“It was easier to hide in a bottle,” Polton added. “Anything was better than facing life without my leg and feeling like only half a man.”

Much to his surprise, James found himself sharing some of his own difficulties, including his reluctance to talk about his time in battle.

Both men agreed that speaking of it with family often made them feel worse. They were afraid their loved ones would look at them differently. However, sharing a few stories with fellow soldiers provided some comfort.

“It helps to know we're not alone.” Barnaby sighed. “And to know we don't belong in Bedlam. At times, I felt as if a dark hole were swallowing me with each day that passed.”

“Nights are the worst.” Polton shook his head.

“I’ve felt all that and more,” James admitted. “How did you find your way out of it?”

“My wife.” Polton blinked rapidly as if he held back tears, his love for her obvious. “She refused to let me wallow. She found crutches to help me walk and kept after me to get up and move. God bless her.”

“And you?” James asked Barnaby.

He smiled sheepishly. “My mother. She nagged me until I found work. It wasn't a good position, but it forced me to rise each morn until this opportunity came along. The earl seems like a good man. He truly has our interests at heart.”

“Indeed,” Polton agreed. “He's helped many. Coming here is always a pleasure as we can speak with fellow soldiers and offer an encouraging word to those who don't have family such as we do.”

James promised to visit the pair again soon. They’d also given him the whereabouts of some of his other men whom he intended to visit in the coming days. He wanted them to know he was thinking of them and was honored to have served with them. If they needed help, he would recommend the registry office without hesitation.

James had seen for himself the enthusiasm with which most of the men greeted the idea of learning new skills. However, there were a few sullen ones whose bitterness etched their faces.

As Granger had pointed out, “We can’t reach everyone. The men must meet us halfway, put aside their pride, and stop wishing for what can’t be. Regrets have no place here.”

James was also impressed with the staff working at the registry office. “I appreciate how everyone here has the same attitude.”

Granger nodded. “That’s something we insist on. We can't change the past or the unfairness of what happened to the soldiers. All we can do is move forward and help them find a better life than they otherwise would have. Our goal is to provide empathy rather than sympathy.”

James was coming to realize that reaching out to others was a good way to help himself. So many were in worse shape than he was. How could he hold

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