He nodded. “I do. But I feel confused in a way that I have not in years.”
“That will happen to all of us,” Argyle assured honestly. “You cannae go through this life feeling completely in control all the time, no matter how much you wish to try. All you can do is control how you respond to whatever sets you on edge.”
Argyle tilted his head to the side. “What is it she asked of you? To take her innocence? Clearly, that is not what bothered you. You did that.”
A muscle tightened in his jaw before he blurted, “I am to help her learn how to be a mistress.”
Argyle let out a blunt laugh. “And this bothers you somehow?”
“Yes,” he roared.
Argyle stilled, then whispered, “Because you like her more than physically.”
He couldn’t make a reply. The words simply wouldn’t make it past his throat.
“My God,” Argyle breathed. “You have feelings for her.”
“I cannot have feelings for her,” he bit out. “I have known her less than twenty-four hours.”
“That doesn’t matter, and you know it.” Argyle pinned him with an assessing stare. “You know that one look, one moment between humans can cause a recognition that echoes throughout the ages. You know, and you don’t have to say anything. You can simply feel it to your bones that that person is meant for you. That they have been waiting for you. That you have been waiting for them. It doesn’t mean that you love her, fool. It simply means that she is meant to be in your life as something more than passing. You’re not going to betray Evelyn and your children by befriending her.”
Was Argyle right? Bloody hell, he wanted him to be. He needed him to be.
Argyle’s usually hard voice softened. “I know you don’t like to be friends with women because you are afraid that you might induce feelings in them, but perhaps have a bit of respect for her. It sounds as if she’s not interested in love. Not if she wants to be a mistress.”
He gave a tight nod. “You’re correct.”
Argyle crossed to him, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Then pull yourself together, mon. Respect her. Respect yourself. You’re not going to fall in love with her. She’s not going to fall in love with you. And if you do…”
He whipped his gaze to Argyle, scowling. “And if I do,” he growled. “Such a horrific thing?”
Argyle locked gazes with him. “Marry her, get an heir, and be happy.”
“I can’t be happy,” he countered, that old heaviness threatening to crush him. “You know I can’t.”
“I know the darkness is deep and that you are tempted often to drift towards it.”
“As you are,” Garret pointed.
“Yes, but we’re different Blackwood,” Callum countered. “You still have a chance.”
He did not argue with his friend. He knew that an argument would not be helpful.
“Punch me again,” Garret said instead. “Not in the face. I have to take her out and don’t need to look completely undone.”
Argyle laughed, a deep, booming sound. “Oh, I shall happily thrash you any way you choose.”
“Good. I’m ready,” he gritted. “Make me into a human boxing bag.”
Argyle smiled his pained smile and lifted his fists.
Chapter 9
Though Catherine had had many suitable and lovely gowns before, none of them were like the one upon her body now.
All her life, she had worn gowns suitable for a young lady of a good family. When she had her come out and been in her first Season, she had worn the prescribed colors of ivory, pale yellow, perhaps a slight sage, a robin’s egg blue, and a few colors like daffodil.
She’d worn the pallets of a rather insipid spring day.