He laughed again. “The same reason everyone marries in this wretched ton…” He scoffed. “Expectation. I was young, freshly made a duke, and my duty was to marry and produce an heir. Is that not the point?”
“Maybe,” she said. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Lilliane’s father was a cruel man, but the weakest men often are. When I first met her, I saw a woman who was…” His expression hardened. “Who was as desperate as I. She needed a way out, I needed a wife, and we agreed to the marriage because we knew that it was the best of a bad option.” More bitter laughter. “Would you believe that I thought I was saving her? That I was doing her a favor?”
Octavia said nothing.
The confession struck her as odd. For how dispassionate and detached the Duke pretended to be, that he might marry someone because he thought he was doing the right thing…again, I am reminded of the man I have seen in glimpses. Nowhere near as cruel and unkind as he pretends.
“What I did not know was how broken Lilliane was,” he continued as the silence stretched. “Or how she had suffered under her father. I thought she was just quiet, that she preferred her own company like me...” More bitter laughter. “How wrong I was.”
Again, Octavia said nothing. She let the moment sit between them, allowing the Duke to speak in his own time.
“It was shortly after Aaron was born that I found her in this room, by the window…” He nodded toward the window. “It stood open, she sat on the windowsill, and when I came to find her…” He cleared his throat. “She smiled at me for maybe the first time. It was that smile which told me that something was wrong.”
On instinct, Octavia shuffled closer to the Duke. He did not move away, so she took that as a sign and, not knowing if it was the right thing but believing it was, she reached out and she took his hand.
He did not start when her hand wrapped his. Rather, he accepted it, allowing her to squeeze it in support.
“She told me that this marriage was a prison… that by escaping her father, she had traded one cell for another. She spoke of freedom, that she would never have it unless she took matters into her own hands. She actually…” His voice cracked. “She actually laughed, happy it sounded like, pleasure found in finally accepting her fate. I did not understand what she meant. I…” Again, his voice cracked. “I told her she was a fool, that I had saved her. I truly believed it.”
Octavia held the Duke’s trembling hand as she looked at him, and his head was still bowed so that she could not see his eyes. Not that she needed to, because she heard the pain in his voice.
“That was when she threw herself from the window.”
Octavia gasped.
“She was right,” he sighed, his voice dropping. “For so long, I refused to admit it. I thought she was unwell, mentally broken… I was unable to understand what she meant and why she would…” A shake of the head. “I blamed her, refusing to accept that her death was my fault.”
“It was not your fault,” Octavia said. “How can you –”
“It was,” he cut her off sharply. “I am not an easy man to live with. I might have rescued her from her father, but I forced my own brand of sorrow and isolation onto her… I was cold, removed, a ghost in this house because I did not want to risk growing close to her. I thought…” His voice cracked again. “I thought that by avoiding her that I was doing her a favor.”
“Evander…” She spoke his name for the first time, a gentle whisper that she hoped told him that he was not alone.
“I killed her,” he said. “I killed her because I refused to consider… to care about her in anyway. Worse still, even all these years later, I have not changed, I have not grown. And now, I see myself doing the same thing to my son, and while I want to be better, to be the man I never was, I do not know how.”
“You are not that man,” Octavia said gently. “You might think that you are, but I have seen the other side of you. I have seen a father who cares –”
“You lie, Miss Finch.”
“I do not.” Her voice hardened. “You still have a long way to go, I will not deny that. But a man who does not care, he would not have hired me. He would not have allowed my brother to join our lessons.” She laughed. “And he certainly would not be so… demanding of me, making sure that I give his son the best care.”
He said nothing, still with his head bowed.
“Look at me,” she said. “You want to wallow in self-pity? You want to blame yourself? Look me in the eyes and tell me truly if you think that anything I have just said is a lie. You know it is not.”
“You…” He shook his head. “Why can you not, just once, agree with me? Why must it always be a fight?”
“I want to agree with you,” she said, a touch of humor in her voice. “Only, this time, you leave me no choice but to argue. You might not be the perfect father, but you are not a lost cause. And if you allow me, if you really want to change, then let me help. Let me show you how.”
“No…” A shake of the head. “It is too late for me.”
“Again, you force me to argue.” She shuffled right beside him so that their legs touched. She squeezed his hand. And then, with her other hand, she reached down, rested a finger under his chin, and guided his face up to meet her eyes.
His eyes were bloodshot. The pain behind them was undeniable. But behind them, lurking in their depths, she saw a glimmer of hope. He wanted to believe her… he wanted her to help.
“I am stubborn,” she said. “And I do love to argue. That is why I am not going to give up on you. And if not for you, for Master Aaron. A boy needs a father, and you are the only one that he has.”
