She leaned forward, their lips pressing softly together—
Hooves pounded into the earth, growing quickly louder. Ash abruptly pulled away.
Mr. Thorne galloped toward them, face grim. Ash was already up and moving toward his valet, his face marred with a frown. Mr. Thorne pulled up next to Ash, his horse’s hindquarters dancing, both horse and rider seeming to have a sense of urgency about them.
“What is it, Sam?” Ash demanded.
She loved his low, authoritative tone, when he turned all commanding Duke. Small ripples of awareness skated down her spine.
Which was immediately snuffed out by Mr. Thorne’s next words.
“Lord Bentley’s coach was spotted not a far distance from the castle.”
Shite. Bugger. Fuck.
Her brother was here.
32
Ash
Ashwasmentallyandphysically exhausted. He had hoped the swim would tire him so severely he wouldn’t be able to dwell on the mess that was his and his son’s relationship. Nor the fact that his heart was in a constant battle with itself over Felicity. He paused at the bottom of the flight of stairs, his grip on the banister tightening, just like the band around his lungs.
Too many people were trying to argue that he should be with Felicity. Even his own son had hinted at it. Which had the devil inside him having way too many ideas. Ideas that involved words that started with ‘f’. And while he couldn’t deny there may be some salacious f-words on the list, the main ones were future and family and feelings.
But then there was the other side of him, the broken side. The one that knew he had sinned one too many times in this life to ever deserve the happiness he’d have with Felicity. That she would be better off with someone younger—perhaps more mature than Colborn, but still younger than Ash.
Felicity should be taken care of, cherished. And while Ash would do that and more, his time on this earth was limited. As he’d stared at his reflection in the looking glass, the creases between his eyes and along his forehead more pronounced, his hair streaked with more silver than he remembered, the reality of his age was undeniable.
He knew Felicity’s words from the beach were true. That he had no control over the fact that things had gone wrong during his wife’s labor. Yet, there wouldn’t have been a labor—death—if Ash hadn’t convinced his wife to have another child…
Just one more, Winifred. I promise I won’t demand any further children from you.Holding a sleeping Pandora against his chest, her cheeks rosy from the warmth of his embrace, he had pleaded his case, desperate, grasping. Winifred had glanced between them, father and daughter, and released a heavy sigh that seemed to bear the all the world’s burdens.Fine, Your Grace, I relent. One more.
Sam constantly berated Ash for punishing himself. But no one understood. They couldn’t unless they’d lived through it.You play a part in someone else’s death and then tell me how easily you can forgive yourself,he wanted to scream.
This was not some small slight. His wife, his newborn daughter,had died. Every time he was selfish, someone got hurt. It wasn’t a pain that ever went away. He still had the ribbon Winnifred had embroidered with their daughter’s name, to be worn as a bracelet once she was born. Emmeline. His daughter who never lived.Fuck. The old, familiar, uncontrollable despair fought to resurface.
He shook his head and did his damnedest to swallow down the tightness in his throat as he made his way to deal with the problem at hand. Felicity’s brother, Lord Bentley, had arrived. He was hardly in the state of mind this discussion required, but that didn’t matter. Duty called. And the Duke showed up.
He strode down the front steps as a white coach came to a stop in front of Felicity. He would need to inform Lord Bentley the betrothal was off. It wasn’t possible the Earl had yet received the letter Ash had dispatched only two days prior. Which meant the man was here because he had received Ash’s first missive about Felicity’s surprise appearance.
There were going to be endless inquiries—to which Ash would need to respond with delicacy and tact. Lord Bentley’s reaction to the broken betrothal was sure to be one of displeasure, and the last thing Ash needed was him to pick up on the undercurrent of whatever existed between Ash and the man’s younger sister. Or Ash could be seeing pistols at dawn. And considering Felicity’s natural proficiency with a pistol, that probably would end very badly for him.
Ash stood back to allow brother and sister privacy to greet each other. The Earl stepped from his carriage, and Felicity walked forward…and then launched herself into her brother’s arms.
“Felix!”
Lord Bentley scooped up his sister and gave her what looked like a painfully tight squeeze. She was dwarfed by her brother. Ash had never realized how large a man Lord Bentley was. He was around Ash’s height, but much broader.
Besides his large size, he was essentially the male version of Felicity. Amber hair that fell about his ears with matching amber eyes. Eyes that currently crinkled at the corners as he smiled with his sister in his arms, relief evident on his tired features. He almost appeared beautiful, sharing the perfectly proportioned features his sister had.
“Bloody hell, Flick.” Lord Bentley’s low rumble just barely drifted up to Ash’s ears. “You cannot run off like that. If I wasn’t so happy you’re safe, I would kill you right now. I’m still not counting it out.”
She shot him a cheeky smile. “I’d like to see you try, brother.”
“You have no idea, sister,” he growled. “Running off to the country on your own? Do you know how bloody dangerous that was? You could have been set upon by highwaymen. People havedied.”
“Do not fret, Felix. I had a pistol and”—she tucked her arm in his and gave it a pat with her other hand—“I am anincredibleshot.” He looked at her skeptically as they turned toward Ash. Her lips pursed. “I would have thought you wouldn’t be here for days yet.”
