“But Will, what was she to do?” Cal asked as he leaned forward. “Did you really expect a country widow alone in the world to go against a man like him?”
Will’s nostrils flared as he stared into his brother’s pleading face. Cal, despite a heartbreaking loss that would have soured most people, still managed to see the best in everyone. Will had always envied that about him, especially now.
“Yes, actually. I did,” he snapped. Then he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. Nothing like a visit home to make one feel like a child again. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s done.”
“All right,” Cal said softly and offered him a plate. “Here. Have a biscuit.”
Will took one and bit into it with relish. As he chewed, he looked around the room to avoid Cal’s sympathetic gaze. But everywhere he turned, another memory surfaced, then another. His father’s law degree still hung on the wall alongside a portrait of their mother a teenaged Cal had painted as a birthday present. The collected works of Charles Dickens in red Moroccan leather, which his mother insisted they each read in full, were proudly displayed in the bookcase next to a bell jar that contained the first model ship Will had successfully built by himself. How could one small space filled with such ordinary things hold so much joy? These were the exact opposite of the treasures he now owned: a world-class art collection, artifacts stolen by far distant relations, and more books than a man could read in a dozen lifetimes. But if he had to choose, Will would trade it all in a heartbeat for anything here. For the reminders of all he had left behind.
His mouth suddenly filled with a bittersweetness that couldn’t be blamed on the biscuit. It was a longing for the past. For the afternoons of his boyhood spent in this room, when his father was still alive and dukes only appeared in fairy tales and newspapers from London—not real life.
Will cleared his throat. “Thank you again for accommodating me on so little notice,” he said stiffly. He had managed to send a message only a few hours before his arrival, but Cal met him promptly at the station full of smiles.
“Of course,” his brother replied. “This is your home too. And with Mother still in London it’s nice to have some company.”
“I don’t like you being out here all by yourself.”
“I’m not,” Cal insisted. “I have friends in the village. And the Atkinson girls call every now and then when they come to stay. That Freddie is something, isn’t she?”
Will tried to return his brother’s grin. “Does… does Phoebe ever come?” He hoped the question didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.
Cal furrowed his brow in thought. “Not since last Christmas. I think she’s too busy with that school of hers to get away much.”
“Right.”
“There’s also a new vicar in the village,” Cal said hesitantly. “Father Lloyd. He’s been coming for supper every Saturday and likes Coleridge even more than I do. We’ve started a little Romantics reading group.”
Will genuinely smiled at the blush staining his brother’s fair cheeks. “I’m so glad.” He then reached out and touched Cal’s arm. “And don’t worry. I will be sure to find a bride by next season.”
Though Lord Fairbanks had kept his promise not to slander Phoebe, Lady Gwen decided all on her own that she had hadenough of Will’s dithering and accepted the heir to a viscountcy. They quickly wed in time for Royal Ascot and as she was the first debutante to marry that season, it helped distract from her failure to capture a duke. Will saw her not long after, holding court in Hyde Park accompanied by a passel of young ladies all dressed alike in pastel walking gowns. If she noticed him, she gave no indication. Just held her golden head up proudly and laughed at something a friend said. Will continued on, shouldering the snub as he deserved, but he could not feel an ounce of regret for not marrying her. She was a lovely woman who should have every happiness, but the version of himself that had focused on her in the first place felt alien to him now.
But unfortunately, he was still the duke and still needed to find a wife. Perhaps he could wed one of those mercenary American girls who would be perfectly happy with only his title and not his heart.
Cal cocked his head. “Whatever do you mean?”
Will blinked. “Last time I was here you said your greatest fear was becoming the duke. So I’m making sure that won’t happen.”
“Oh, God. I forgot all about that.” Cal pressed a hand to his chest, his brown eyes wide with mortification. “Tell me you haven’t been bride-hunting onmyaccount.”
Will pinched the bridge of his nose. Sometimes being the elder brother was harder than being a duke. “Christ, Cal. Do you have any idea howworriedI’ve been?”
Cal bowed his head in regret. “I’m very sorry. I shouldn’t have burdened you with that. I mean, it’s true, but I was feeling rather pitiful that day. And it certainly shouldn’t be why you getmarried.”
“It was time to find a duchess anyway,” Will grumbled.
Cal gave him a considering look. “You deserve to be withsomeone you love, and who loves you back. Forget all the duchess business.”
Will let out a grim laugh. “A bit hard to when the chance to become a duchess is your biggest draw.”
“Then those women aren’t for you,” Cal insisted. “And you’re far more than that blasted title.”
Will gazed out the window at the green meadow that led to the Atkinson’s property. How many times he had crossed it as a boy. Always with a sense of anticipation for what lay ahead. The excitement of the unexpected. That feeling had been lost to him for so long, until Phoebe came barreling into his life again.
He swallowed against the lump building in his throat and met Cal’s gaze. “I think I’m beginning to realize that, as foolish as it sounds.”
“No, it’s honest,” Cal said as he reached over and patted Will’s hand. “And that, dear brother, can never be foolish.”
Twenty-Four
