“She was the first thing in ten years that I wanted for myself,” he admitted. “Not for my sisters, not for the estate, not out of duty or obligation or any of the things I have organized my entire adult life around.” He looked at James. “But for myself. And I told her she was a responsibility and watched her walk out of this house and said nothing.”
James was quiet.
“I am in love with my wife,” William sighed. “I love Cecily.”
James let the silence stretch out. Then he said with a grin, “I know.”
William looked at him in disbelief. “I am the last person in this room to know.”
“Thank heavens you finally recognized the truth.”
William exhaled. “I will not regret it. Whatever happens… it is not a mistake. I called it one, and I was wrong. It is the truest thing I have, it is the truest thing.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I love her. And I am not going to regret it. Not any of it.”
James looked at him for a long moment. “Good.”
“It changes nothing.”
“It changeseverything,” James countered. “And you know it. What are you going to do?”
William was silent, thinking.
“I’m not telling you what to do. I would like to be very clear that I am not telling you what to do, because your sister has already established that as her territory, and I have no intention of competing with Letitia for anything.” The corner of James’s mouth twitched. “I am only saying that I hate to see you brooding and miserable. So don’t make this worse than it already is.”
He clapped William once on the shoulder and then left.
William stood in the empty nursery for a moment longer. He looked at the chair. He looked at the crib. He picked up the small wooden horse from the shelf and turned it once in his hand.
He thought about James’s words and Isadora’s words and Letitia’s words and the accumulated weight of a week in which everyone who knew him had, in their separate and individual ways, been telling him the same thing.
He thought about what he had not said in a study. What he had not said at the top of the front steps. What he had stood in this room, not saying for the better part of six days.
He had reformed the accounts. He had secured the trust. He had read every document and signed nothing without understandingit, and had done all of it with methodical efficiency. He understood that preparation was not the same as courage, but was at least a beginning.
He set down the wooden horse.
I know what I have to do.
He went to find his coat.
CHAPTER 29
He was on Beatrice’s doorstep at half past ten. He had been standing there for approximately forty seconds, which he was aware was not a long time and felt considerably longer, unable to decide whether to knock or not.
He knocked anyway.
Collins opened the door. He looked at William. “Your Grace.”
“I would like to see my wife,” William declared.
A pause. Collins seemed to consider this.
“If you’ll wait in the drawing room, Your Grace,” he said finally.
“Thank you.”
William was shown in. He did not sit. He stood at the window and looked at the street, thinking about what he was going to say, which was the thing James had told him not to spend time doing, which was advice he had been unable to follow for the entirety of the carriage ride over.
He heard the door open and turned.
