“So I have.” Alex stumbled into Mary’s room. He was making more noise than he ought, but he was too foxed to care. If he was discovered, so what? Who was to tell him to stop? In another period of his life, he’d never have behaved so despicably. Notwithstanding his parents’ lack of morals, he’d been raised to know the difference between right and wrong. It was dishonorable to lead Mary on, for he was sure she presumed that he’d turn out to be a better man than he appeared. Hah! Wasn’t she in for a surprise? Every decent attribute had been extinguished, and he had no redeeming qualities remaining. Considering himself to be strong, brave, and wise, he’d joined the army, but he’d learned many bitter lessons. He was a coward, so weak that a little scar had destroyed him. People stared on the street, children pointed, beautiful women—including his prior fiancée—blanched with disgust, and he couldn’t bear it. He was neither courageous nor resilient, and he wanted his old existence back, wanted to be handsome, dashing Alex Farrow, who’d had the world at his feet.
