Even away from his family, who loved him unconditionally but had no clue that what he really wanted, deep down inside, was something to do.
His brother Anthony held the viscountcy, and with that came myriad responsibilities. He ran estates, managed the family's finances, and saw to the welfare of countless tenants and servants. Benedict, his elder by four years, had gained renown as an artist. He'd started with pencil and paper, but at the urging of his wife had moved on to oils. One of his landscapes now hung in the National Gallery.
Anthony would be forever remembered in family trees as the seventh Viscount Bridgerton. Benedict would live through his paintings, long after he left this earth.
But Colin had nothing. He managed the small property given to him by his family and he attended parties. He would never dream of claiming he didn't have fun, but sometimes he wanted something a little more than fun.
He wanted a purpose.
He wanted a legacy.
He wanted, if not to know then at least to hope, that when he was gone, he'd be memorialized in some manner other than in Lady Whistledown's Society Papers.
He sighed. No wonder he spent so much time traveling.wColin?" his brother prompted.
Colin turned to him and blinked. He was fairly certain Anthony had asked him a question, but somewhere in the mean-derings of his mind, he'd forgotten what.wOh. Right." Colin cleared his throat. "I'll be here for the rest of the season, at least."
Anthony said nothing, but it was difficult to miss the satisfied expression on his face.wIf nothing else," Colin added, affixing his legendary crooked grin on his face, "someone has to spoil your children. I don't think Charlotte has nearly enough dolls."wOnly fifty," Anthony agreed in a deadpan voice. "The poor girl is horribly neglected."wHer birthday is at the end of this month, is it not? I shall have to neglect her some more, I think."wSpeaking of birthdays," Anthony said, settling into the large chair behind his desk, "Mother's is a week from Sunday."wWhy do you think I hurried to return?"
Anthony raised a brow, and Colin had the distinct impression that he was trying to decide if Colin had truly rushed home for their mother's birthday, or if he was simply taking advantage of some very good timing.wWe're holding a party for her," Anthony said.wShe's letting you?" It was Colin's experience that women of a certain age did not enjoy birthday celebrations. And although his mother was still exceedingly lovely, she was definitely of a certain age.wWe were forced to resort to blackmail," Anthony admitted. "She agreed to the party or we revealed her true age."
Colin shouldn't have taken a sip of his brandy; he choked on it and just barely managed to avert spraying it all over his brother. "I should have liked to have seen that."
Anthony offered a rather satisfied smile. "It was a brilliant maneuver on my part."
Colin finished the rest of his drink. "What, do you think, are the chances she won't use the party as an opportunity to find me a wife?"wVery small."wI thought so."
Anthony leaned back in his chair. "You are thirty-three now, Colin ..."
Colin stared at him in disbelief. "God above, don't you start on me."wI wouldn't dream of it. I was merely going to suggest that you keep your eyes open this season. You needn't actively look for a wife, but there's no harm in remaining at least amenable to the possibility."
Colin eyed the doorway, intending to pass through it very shortly. "I assure you I am not averse to the idea of marriage."wI didn't think you were," Anthony demurred.wI see little reason to rush, however."wThere's never a reason to rush," Anthony returned. "Well, rarely, anyway. Just humor Mother, will you?"
Colin hadn't realized he was still holding his empty glass until it slipped through his fingers and landed on the carpet with a loud thunk. "Good God," he whispered, "is she ill?"wNo!" Anthony said, his surprise making his voice loud and forceful. "She'll outlive us all, I'm sure of it."wThen what is this about?"
Anthony sighed. "I just want to see you happy."wI am happy," Colin insisted.wAre you?"wHell, I'm the happiest man in London. Just read Lady Whistledown. She'll tell you so."
Anthony glanced down at the paper on his desk.wWell, maybe not this column, but anything from last year. I've been called charming more times than Lady Danbury has been called opinionated, and we both know what a feat that is."wCharming doesn't necessarily equal happy," Anthony said softly.wI don't have time for this," Colin muttered. The door had never looked so good.wIf you were truly happy," Anthony persisted, "you wouldn't keep leaving."
Colin paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Anthony, I like to travel."wConstantly?"wI must, or I wouldn' t do it."
'That's an evasive sentence if ever I've heard one."wAnd this"—Colin flashed his brother a wicked smile— "is an evasive maneuver."wColin!"
But he'd already left the room.
CHAPTER 2
It has always been fashionable among the ton to complain of ennui, but surely this year's crop of partygoers has raised boredom to an art form. One cannot take two steps at a society function these days without hearing the phrase "dreadfully dull," or "hopelessly banal." Indeed This Author has even been informed that Cressida Twombley recently remarked that she was convinced that she might perish of eternal boredom if forced to attend one more off-key musicale.
(This Author must concur with Lady Twombley on that note; while this year's selection of debutantes are an amiable bunch, there is not a decent musician amongthem.)