“That we needed space to think and to grieve.”
Without taking her eyes off him, Gwyneth nodded. “That might be somewhat true. You do need to mourn your losses, brother. You’ve had many over your life, and the loss of a child is a terrible thing. But …” She was weighing whether to say more.
“But?”
“It might not be my place to say.”
“Please speak your mind, Gwyneth.”
“You don’t need space for that. What is Artemis to think?” Her cheeks grew flushed as she warmed to the expression of her point of view. “And now—” She shook her head, visibly irritated.
Bran understood he was about to be on the receiving end of a good dressing down—and that he possibly deserved it. “And now?”
“And now you’ve only gone and broken her heart a second time.”
“I didn’t break her heart ten years ago.” He felt like that needed to be clear.
“But that’s what she believed all these years, Bran. That you abandoned her and the baby you made together. She suffered.”
“I know.”
“And now you’re making her suffer more.”
“I’m suffering, too.”
“Yes.” Exasperation shone in Gwyneth’s eyes. “Yes, you’re making yourself suffer, too.”
An unworthy part of himself rose to his defense. Wasn’t the duchess the original source of all this suffering?
He immediately quashed it.
You’ve been through so much, Bran. I didn’t want to add to it.
Those were the words that had been haunting him since he’d left Somerton.
For ten years, she’d believed him to be a heartless bastard who had abandoned her and their child. Then when they’d met again, she learned the truth—that he didn’t know of the child and that he hadn’t abandoned her.
And one further thing—that he was a broken man.
Her instinct to withhold the truth about their lost child hadn’t been born of deception and selfishness, but rather selflessness. By deciding not to tell him, she’d thought to continue shouldering the burden alone.
Could he blame her for following that instinct? Wasn’t that what one did for those one loved? Carry the burden until the other was strong enough to share it?
And it all had to do with that one short, four-letter word—love.
Love could take one’s best intentions and lead one down the completely wrong path.
Sometimes love got it wrong.
And when it did, wasn’t that where grace and forgiveness came into play?
Really, he’d been viewing the matter from the wrong angle.
He had, in fact, been a dunderhead.
“I’ve bungled it, haven’t I?”
“Well, yes, brother, you have been a nodcock, but I think you’re in luck.”
