37: Not loving each other

*Ben*

Nearly an hour and a half later, I stand at the window in the library, downing scotch. I had come straight here from the bathing room, now wearing the clothes I had donned this morning before changing into the sturdier and rougher attire that I sport when going to the mines.

Skye is correct. I have been an ass. I am still in danger of behaving as one because I can’t shake off the anger that rivets through me now that she knows the truth of my situation. I am embarrassed that I get my hands dirty, that I engage in backbreaking labor that no gentleman should. That I hadn't paid more attention to the mines when I reached my majority, that I hadn’t noticed sooner that my father was not the best steward for the estate and business.

That I return to the manor each evening covered in sweat and grime. It is bad enough that the local people know. But I can envision Skye in New York attending a luncheon, tittering with a group of ladies, laughing at the notion of me working for my supp