The moment the words were out of his mouth, he felt the raw honesty like a too-hot cup of tea scorching his insides. He had thought them, but he had never spoken them aloud. It was akin to having someone confirm a suspicion he had long held, but that person was himself.
“Christopher would have been her perfect match,” he said, more to himself than to Lionel, who uttered a quiet gasp.
“Your brother?”
Duncan nodded, swallowing uncomfortably. He understood his friend’s surprise; he rarely spoke about his brother, for it did not exactly lend itself to good cheer, and merriment was all Duncan cared about.Usedto care about, at least.
“Had he not already been in love with Louisa, of course,” Duncan added with a dry chuckle. “My brother would have wooed Valeria as she deserved, would have lavished her with gifts and affection, would have charmed her with the utmost sincerity, would have courted her with the chivalry of a medieval knight, would have had her laughing until she could not stop.”
He would have known how to love her properly and she would have loved him in return,he neglected to add, hating that it was probably the truth. Christopher had not hesitated, not for a moment, to fall in love with Louisa. He had been so certain of her, and of his feelings for her, that it had looked so… easy.
“I teased him for it,” he whispered, gulping down another mouthful of brandy, ignoring the burn.
What an idiot, to tease a man for loving a woman so utterly, so unashamedly.
“You are not so different to him,” Lionel said gently, resting a hand on Duncan’s shoulder.
A cold smile twisted Duncan’s mouth, a colder laugh leaving his lips. “I could not be more different. If I had fifty years to become the man he was, I would not manage it, even if I started now. I have been myself for too long.”
“And what, pray tell, is wrong with who you are?” Lionel’s voice grew sterner, taking on that fraternal tone again. “I would not have been your friend for all these years if I thought there was something amiss with you. You are a fine man indeed.”
Duncan shook his head, the quantity of liquor finally catching up to him, dredging up emotions he had buried deep, pinching at his eyes until, for a terrible moment, he thought tears might form.
“You have endured a lot, Lockie,” Lionel urged. “Grief does strange things to people. I understand that more than most.”
“It is no excuse,” Duncan muttered, his throat raw as he tried to swallow down his guilt and shame and sorrow, the feelings lodging until it felt like he might choke. “My bad habits began long before my losses. My brother tried to get me to behave, pleading with me, getting me out of trouble, but… what an impossible task, eh?”
In truth, it had started as a means to annoy their father, so that their father would at least notice that Duncan existed. The more their father had scolded and berated him, the more inclined he was to continue. And there had never been a mother to beg him to behave, for he had stolen her life when he had been given it.
Was it any wonder my father could not bear to look at me?He could not have looked at the boy who had taken the life of his beloved, either.
After their father died, Duncan’s antics were too ingrained in his daily existence to give them up entirely, though hehadtried to be more discreet for his brother’s sake.
“He should be here, not me.” Duncan’s voice cracked, and no amount of brandy would slick the fracture closed. “It was such a silly riding accident, Lionel. Any other day, he would have shaken it off with a laugh and a joke, and I would have teased him about it for a while. He should not be dead. It is… so very unfair. It always will be.”
Lionel put an arm around his shoulders, squeezing gently. “I know, Lockie. I know.”
“He would be so disappointed in me, Lionel,” Duncan rasped, his breaths shallow. “If he were here, he would shake his head, ruffle my hair, and say something like, “I was the one who died, but you were the one who made a wreck of your life.” Him dyingshouldhave set me off on a different, better course, but I just… used it as an excuse to do whatever I wanted.”
Lionel sighed sadly, turning himself toward his friend to hide the distressing moment from any guests. A kind gesture. The sort of gesture that Christopher would have offered.
“You were in pain, Lockie. You arestillin pain, I suspect. I retreated from society and became numb after my losses, whileyou threw yourself into life—both are valid, my good man,” Lionel assured.
It was, in truth, the loneliness of a vacant manor that had made Duncan wild, craving the company of anyone who would alleviate his sorrow. He had chased that feeling for years, not caring about the scandal, for as long as he was being talked about, then that meant he was not alone; he was not a forgotten duke in an empty house, absent all family.
“Why are you being so hard on yourself?” Lionel asked, frowning. “What is the matter, Lockie? You can tell me. I know there is something more to this.”
But Duncan could not speak, even if he had wanted to explain. He was filled with the thick molasses of so much repressed feeling, from his stomach to his lips, and no words could pass through.
Christopher always said I would ruin myself; that when I finally realized what I had done to myself, it would be too late.Duncan banged on his chest, but it did nothing to dislodge the suffocating hindsight.He warned me, and I did not listen… and now I am going to have to watch Valery marry that drab creature… because I am so much worse.
“I have had too much to drink,” he said abruptly, sweeping a hand through his hair while his mouth strained into what must have been an abomination of a grin. “Goodness, listen to me—that is assuredly the brandy talking. I ought to get some fresh air.”
Lionel held onto his shoulders. “It is not the brandy, Lockie. What is going on? Is it Valeria?”
“Yes, fresh air ought to remedy this odd mood,” Duncan persisted, slipping easily from Lionel’s grip. “Sorry about that, Lionel. I have not the faintest notion where all that came from. You have yourself another drink, and I shall reconvene with you in a while.”
He started walking away before his friend could stop him, and though he heard Lionel call his name, he did not turn back. He could not be in that manor a moment longer, indulging in a house party that had turned into an impromptu engagement party, without the future bride present.
