At twenty-one Will should be a man, not a boy still getting into scrape after scrape.
“I’ll send word to the vice chancellor. He can send an examiner to London and you can take your exams here.”
“That’s not necessary,” Will mumbled, staring into his lap.
Edward leaned over his desk, hand curled into a fist, eyes level with his brother’s.
“Itisnecessary because you will take your exams. You will graduate, and you will take a career. I don’t care if it’s the clergy or the military. Youwillgrow up, William.”
His censure was met with sullen silence, his brother’s typical response. “Start studying. Someone will be here to supervise your assessments next week.”
Finally, Will looked him straight in the eye. “Because you say so? The university is just going to pack a professor onto the mail coach and send him to London to supervise one student?”
Edward raised a brow.
“Of course they will. You’re the Duke of Wildeforde. People do what you say.” Will shook his head. “Do you ever get bored of being so bloody perfect all the time? Always correct. Always doing the right thing.”
Edward had long ago hardened himself against that particular blow. His heart had formed a necessary callus. It barely felt the hit.
“Perfection is our duty. Family must come first. What you do reflects on all of us. It’s time to stop thinking about having a moment of fun and instead think about how your actions impact others. It’s time to stop being so selfish.”
William’s face twisted at the insult. His eyes—such a bright blue when he was born; the most wonderful thing Edward had seen—darkened. “Has it ever occurred to you that the line our mother fed us our entire lives—family above all else—is wrong? That there’s more to life than duty and honor?”
Any patience Edward had for this conversation vanished, driven out by the bitter cold of their past and the reminder of what hehadgiven up. “You were too young to understand what she went through.”
“Please, she’s been shoving it down our throats our entire lives. I may not remember Father, but I know more about his faults than I would if he’d lived longer.”
“Be glad you don’t remember him. You’ll never know the grave disappointment he was.”
Because of everything that had happened, that was what hurt the most. Not the shock of his father’s death or the relentless bullying he’d taken from his peers afterward. Not the way his mother, already cold, had become sharp and brittle as they left London to escape from the scandal.
No, it was discovering the good, kind man he’d thought he’d known had been willing to put the health and happiness of everyone he loved in jeopardy so he could indulge in his affair.
Their entire relationship had been a lie.
That was the disappointment that cut deepest—the wound that had never healed.
There was a discreet knock at the door. Simmons entered.
Taking the butler’s interruption as a chance to escape, Will jumped up from his seat. “Well, I’m off then. You’re clearly busy.”
“Will, let’s talk tonight.” They’d never managed to have a proper conversation about the events of their childhood. It was a subject matter on which they couldn’t see eye to eye, and the conversation quickly became an argument each time. But with Charlotte coming out this season, and the increased scrutiny their family would endure as a result, it was time for his brother to see reason. He had to toe the line, for his sister’s sake, at least.
“I’m going to stay with Pulfrey for a few days,” Will said, neatly avoiding the confrontation. Again.
That his brother found it so difficult for them to be under the same roof hurt. But it had always been that way. Nothing he did could change it. “Your sister will be home on Friday. I’d like you to be here.”
“Of course I’ll be here. You didn’t need to ask.”
And he probably didn’t. Charlotte-Rose and William shared a bond that Edward didn’t—couldn’t. Being head of the family came with responsibilities they didn’t understand. Those responsibilities had always held him slightly apart, never quite one of them.
Simmons’s expression didn’t change a whit as William passed him, even though Edward suspected the butler’s opinion of his brother was even worse than his own. “I’m sorry to bother you, Your Grace, but there is a footman here to see you.”
“A footman? One of our footmen?”
“No, my lord.”
“What does he want?” Simmons was head of staff and had full authority to hire, fire, reward, and reprimand as he wished. There was no need for Edward to be involved in the day-to-day of the household. Off-loading that burden was why he paid his butler and housekeeper a king’s ransom.
