“I have a reason.” Lord Gibbs stood, looking ready to march toward Christopher and Robert. Slowly, Christopher put himself in front of his brother, shielding him, but he did not need to. The Duke of Dunton had stood and held back his own brother.
“The Duke of Bridstone is right.” His words made Lord Gibbs freeze. “You have no good reason to hate them. They have done nothing to us, and we simply see the worst in them. As much as I’d like to say they have wronged us, what have they actually ever done to you and me?”
“They…” Lord Gibbs petered off. He turned around, pulled on his hair, then kicked out at a loose log on the fire. “They would do something. I know it.”
“A gut instinct and knowing something are two different things. Now, let me tell you what I know.” The Duke of Dunton inhaled sharply and appeared to grow a foot in the room with his strength.
Christopher couldn’t help admiring the man for the command he had on the room. “I know this young gentleman here loves my daughter. I may have been blind to it before, but I am done with being obstinate and dumb. He loves her, and as my daughter loves him too, I shall be supporting the match, even if that means fighting with my own brother because of it.”
“Wait…” Lord Gibbs backed up, tripping on the edge of his chair and coming dangerously close to falling into it again. “You would argue with me… let a division come between us for the sake of their match?”
“I would.” The Duke of Dunton spoke without hesitation. “That conviction alone should be enough for you to see the truth of the matter.” He stepped forward, taking his brother’s shoulder. “The Moores are not our enemies. It’s time to let old arguments rest.”
“But I…” Lord Gibbs sighed heavily. “I wanted to protect Julia, Benjamin. Please see that.”
“Protect!?” Robert spluttered.
“Robert,” Christopher warned, trying to keep him quiet.
“Misguided protection, that’s what this is,” the Duke of Dunton said. “Enough of this now, brother. You understand?”
At first, Lord Gibbs said nothing. He looked between them all, his eyes restless, then his gaze fell on the one person in the room who hadn’t yet said anything. Christopher followed that gaze, eager to look at her himself.
Helena stood by the door, her glare stiff as she stared at her uncle.
“Helena?” he asked, prodding her own thoughts from her mind.
“The only person I resent in this room is you, Uncle,” she murmured quietly. “You should be asking forgiveness for what you have done, not trying to excuse it.”
It was the greatest sense anyone had spoken in that room. Christopher smiled at Helena though she seemed not to notice. He was so impressed; it was difficult to look anywhere else in this room.
She has continuously surprised me, again and again.
He longed to go to her, to snatch up her hand and kiss the back.
Now is not the time!
“What have I done that you could all hate me so much? Oh, miserable existence.” Lord Gibbs dropped back into his chair and held his head in his hands. “You’ll hate me forever for what I have done, will you not?”
“Not forever. Not if you repent.” The Duke of Dunton took his chair again. “Now, Gibbs. Where is my daughter?”
Above them all, there was a thud in another room. Their heads all turned in unison to the ceiling above.
“Helena,” the Duke called to his eldest daughter.
“I’m already going, Father.” She turned and fled from the room. Robert was ready to follow but faltered, looking at Christopher first.
“Let him see you reunite,” Christopher whispered in a low tone and winked. “Let him see the way you two truly are together.”
Robert’s brows frowned, but then he nodded in understanding.
“You’re quite canny when you want to be, aren’t you?”
“Not enough, brother.” Christopher sighed, knowing he should have seen the truth earlier that day. Gibbs had thrown suspicion onto the Moores by signing that letter with an ‘M’. Only someone who had wanted the Moores to be blamed would have done that. “I should have realized the truth much sooner. I am only sorry I did not.”
“It was not your doing.” Robert offered an apologetic look. “You have done everything to aid this match.”
Christopher looked toward the Duke of Dunton who held his brother’s shoulder as he hung his head forward. They muttered in low tones together.
