Enoch’s jaw clenched, the memory cutting deeper. “He turned desperate. He had Will kidnapped—snatched him right from our estate. Held him for a day before our father’s men tracked him down and brought him back.”
His voice roughened, the fear of that day seeping back like a fist gripping his chest. “Will was so young… I can still hear our mother’s cries when we realized he was gone. That was the breaking point. Our father sent her and us here to Montana with a handful of trusted staff to protect us from Reginald.” Hepaused, the ache of the upheaval tightening his chest. “It was supposed to be temporary.”
Mandie’s eyes widened at the initial revelation, but they softened with each layer he peeled back. Now, her voice turned gentle. “That must have been so hard.”
He gave a small nod, memories of those early days flitting through his mind—the confusion, the fear, the glimpses of his mother’s tears when she thought no one was watching. “I guess it was. We were uprooted, sent across an ocean to a place we didn’t understand. But it kept us alive.”
Mandie touched his arm. “You’ve been through so much.”
For a moment, he couldn’t find words. He met her gaze, her eyes giving more than sympathy. They held a quiet strength that steadied him.
He pulled his gaze away. He had to focus on the next most important part of the conversation. “Eventually, this land, this life...it became a part of us.” He met her gaze, willing her to understand. “Will, though—he always knew he’d go back someday, to take up the mantle of the dukedom. He was preparing for it, before...” His throat closed around the words.
Her hand squeezed his arm. “Before he died.”
He swallowed and shifted his thoughts past that point. “The plan was for him to marry, then travel to England to be introduced at Parliament and learn the role of a duke from our father.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, weighted with the responsibility that now fell to him.
A frown pulled on her face, like she was trying to understand. “Did I know he was…a duke? Or would become one?” She gave her head a little shake. “I mean, did I know he wanted a wife who would go with him to England and be…”
The knot in his middle pulled a little tighter as he finished her question. “…his duchess? I honestly don’t know if Will told you or not. I found the letter you sent him, but I’m not sure whathe wrote to you.” He raised his brows. “Perhaps you have them? In your luggage?”
Her mouth pinched. “I only found one note. He suggested that I come and visit first, so the two of us could become acquainted. Then we could both decide if we wanted to proceed with…marriage.” Did her voice quiver on that last word?
He turned back to stare at the trees ahead. “That sounds like Will. He was usually hesitant to mention our title—we’ve all kept quiet about it. He might have wanted to tell you in person, then give you ample time to decide.”
She nodded slowly, her gaze distant as if trying to grasp memories just out of reach. “I wish I could remember more about our correspondence, about what led me to make this journey.” Frustration edged her voice.
If only he had the right words to ease her mind, but he was fumbling in the dark himself.
She met his gaze again. “So what happens now?”
He turned to face her fully. “With Will gone, that responsibility falls to me, as the next eldest son. I’ll need to marry and travel to England, to learn the estates and what it means to be the Duke of Clarence.” The words felt like splintering wood in his throat, scraping against the life he’d built here, the man he’d become.
Her eyes widened, but she held his gaze. “I see.” Her voice was soft, laced with a note of something he couldn’t quite decipher. Sympathy? Uncertainty?
He steeled himself, his heart pounding against his ribs. “Mrs. Beaumont, I find myself in need of a wife. And you...you would make a fine duchess.”
He forced himself to hold her gaze, to not look away from the surprise and uncertainty in her eyes. “Would you consider marrying me, knowing all this? Knowing the life it would entail?”
Mandie stared at him, her expression unreadable save for the widening of her eyes. Seconds ticked by, each one an eternity as he waited for her response. His lungs pressed so hard, only a little breath seeped in and out.
At last, she looked away, her gaze drifting to the mountains that had become his home, his sanctuary. “I...don’t know what to say.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper, carried away on the summer breeze.
His heart sank, but he forced himself to nod. “I understand. It’s a lot to take in.” He tried to keep his tone steady, not let the disappointment bleed through.
She turned back to him, her dark eyes searching his face. “It’s not only that. I still don’t know why I came here, why I agreed to be a mail-order bride in the first place. I feel like I’m missing a piece of myself.” Her hand rose to her temple as if she could physically grasp the memories that eluded her.
His body tightened. If only he could reach out and offer comfort, but he held himself back. She likely wouldn’t appreciate contact between them. “I know. And I don’t want to pressure you. We’re both in a difficult position.”
She nodded, her gaze dropping to her clasped hands. “I appreciate your candor, Mr. Balfour. And your offer. I just...I need some time. To think, to try to remember.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading for understanding.
He nodded, even as disappointment gnawed at his middle. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”
She gave him a small, grateful smile. Then she stepped back from the rail. “I should go help Bea with the custard.” She turned and moved with her measured stride toward the front door.
“Mrs. Beaumont.” Her name escaped his lips before he could stop it.
She paused, glancing back at him.
