Page 86 of The Duchess Games

“Like hell, little brother.”

Callum scowled. “I wasn’t asking permission.”

She snorted. “Good, because you won’t get it. You will not let our mother win. I forbid it.”

“This isn’t about Mother.”

Summer rolled her eyes so hard she immediately rubbed her eyelids. “She’s the one who convinced you that you had to be this paper doll version of a duke, all duty and discipline. Father knew how to laugh, at least.”

“In all fairness, all of Mayfair probably had a hand in that,” Blackpool put in.

“You’re not helping,” she snapped.

Callum rubbed his beard again, suddenly exhausted. “Neither are you,” he informed his sister. “Though I know you mean to.”

“I’m just saying you have more power than most people. Use it to grab your happiness with both hands. Idiot.”

“She lied to me,” he said quietly. “She used my title.”

“Against you?”

He paused. “No.” But she’d made his every doubt, every nightmare surface. That he wasn’t good enough. That he was only a title. That he had to protect himself from everyone. If his mask cracked, the jackals descended.

That wasn’t on her though. Summer was right. It was more complicated than that.

“Women have no options, little brother. You have the option of being morally righteous. She might not.”

Cat had said something similar to him about rules and who they were made for.

“Did you ask her why she did it?” Summer pressed.

“Yes. No.” He couldn’t remember.

“Well, choose your pride or your heart, little brother.”

“You make it sound simple.” Why was there no whisky left in the damn decanter?

“Do you love her?”

Not a drop left. “Who?”

Summer narrowed her eyes. “I will bash you over the head with this stick.”

“It’s called a cue, love,” Blackpool put in helpfully. They both ignored him.

“Do you love her?”

He wanted to say no. Wanted to say it didn’t matter.

Instead, the truth came out in a snarl, nothing like the poetic lovers in storybooks.

“Of course, I love her.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

It was a beautiful day. Bright and calm and picturesque. The sea was a stunning blue, gulls wheeling above it. Wildflowers danced in the long grass, yellows and purples and pale pinks.

Cat would have punched it if she could.