“You look like a man who has lost an argument,” Brandon said without looking up.
“I have not argued with anyone.”
“That is worse,” Brandon replied. “It means you argued with yourself.”
George took a glass from the sideboard and poured without ceremony.
“She asked about my grandmother.”
Brandon glanced over.
“Ah.”
“I answered honestly.”
“There is your first mistake.”
“I explained what is expected of a duchess.”
“And how did that go?”
“She assumed she had failed before being tested.”
Brandon winced. George set the glass down, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“My grandmother has always known what is best.”
“For your father, yes” Brandon said.
“And for myself. She believes stability is paramount.”
“And what do you believe?”
He did not answer, because he did not know as well as he had once thought he did. Brandon leaned against the table.
“You have lived your life responding to expectations. Your father’s, your grandmother’s, the title’s.”
“That is my responsibility.”
“That is obedience,” Brandon countered. “There is a difference.”
“I do not have the luxury of preference.”
“You do,” Brandon said. “You simply pretend that you do not so that you can claim things are not your fault.”
“What I want is irrelevant.”
Brandon studied him for a moment.
“Then why does it trouble you that she thinks she is not enough?”
The question caught him off guard.
“I do not know,” George admitted.
“Do you not?”
He did not answer. He did not need to.
