Page 73 of The Betrothal

“Alex.” Ben rose to meet him as he spoke, his voice so soft, like he was actually speaking to a scared beast. “She’s a victim of the system her father helped to create.” Alex frowned, shaking his head. “The one built on the foundations laid by our father.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

ISABELLE

Sorry, what now?

“He’s got you there.” Seb was now propped on the edge of the sofa, always keeping him and Ben between Alex and me.

“Okay, now I’m in the dark?” My light joke was probably a mistake based on Alex’s glower, but Ben quirked a grin making my blood thrum. I didn’t realise quite how much the ending of us would have hurt me.

I needed to store that problem away for later.

“Alex and Ben’s family hadn’t always lived in the rural Kent countryside. Right, Alex?” Seb prompted him.

Based on the way Alex was working his jaw he was going to crack a tooth.

“Really?” I was desperate to understand what Ben meant, and Ben and Seb were pretty quiet at this point.

Alex cleared his throat and turned to me, his dark grey eyes shadowed.

“My family were in politics, before…” he trailed off, shoulders sinking in on themselves. In that moment I had an urge to comfort him.

“Before our mother became unwell and the family moved back to the manor,” Ben finished for him.

“I’m sorry.” Sadness rose into my chest, choking me. The loss of their mother was still so painful for them. The two sons, even Seb, now silent and lost in thought over their loss.

Would I feel this depth of sadness if I no longer had my mother? The answer had me swallowing thickly.

“They couldn’t move in politics anymore, not in the reality of what was being done. Not with how unwell my mother became trying to fit their mould,” Alex spat. “We moved here, and when Mother improved Ben joined the family.” The sad smile lifting his lips was for his younger brother. “This asshole came as part of the package.” He scowled at Seb who chuckled. “Unfortunately, that kind of sadness, well it overwhelmed her eventually.”

Sharp pricks brought tears to my eyes. What?

“My father followed not long after, people said it was a broken heart, that and guilt. The liquor helped.” His head fell forwards, he shuddered, his anger entirely replaced. “Now Ben and I are the last of the Cavendish family.”

I blindly lifted the bottle I was nursing to Seb who delivered it to Alex, a soft clap of his hand on his back.

“Your father worked with mine?” I asked, the pieces clicking into place.

Alex nodded, lifting the bottle, lips thinned as he swallowed the now tepid drink. “Your father was younger, up and coming. He stepped into the void where my father left off.” He sounded sour. “He did a fantastic job of really nailing down those policies, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” I sighed.

“So, I told you ours. Your turn?” Alex asked.

Settling against the seat, I picked at my fingers. I owed them this much.

“I’ve been in education for my whole adult life.” The words were heavy, each one feeling more difficult than the last. Seeing my distress, Ben moved to sit beside me, twisting to face inward, to only me. He lifted my hand from where I tortured it and one of the tears that had been building slipped free.

Furiously I swiped at it. Poor little rich girl crying at her obligations.

I wasn’t the only one here who had lost something to the Genesis Protocol.

“I was engaged to Teddy at fifteen. Back then I didn’t realise that I felt as trapped as I did. Either I loved Teddy then or I thought I could in the future. He was kind,” I lamented.

Ben’s fingers threaded through mine, encouraging a spark of confidence.

“I knew that I could study. So, I studied policy, or as close as I could. It began as a way to understand the system, but when my degree finished and I found myself more reluctant to take up the role assigned, I sought another opportunity. It turned out leaning into my father’s area of speciality made it easier. He was proud, I was technically allowed to study, it seemed to be a decent way to avoid the inevitable. Eventually I began to hope that Teddy would move on, bored with waiting.” My laugh was caustic. I was so fucking naïve.