“I hate her,” Lord Wilmot repeated. “She does not know what it is like. Not fair.”
“Know what what is like?” Maximilian asked.
“Not fair at all.”
“Willie, talk to me. What is not fair?”
But Lord Wilmot shook his head. “I do not want to talk about it.”
His words slurred, and Eugenia suspected by the way his head wobbled on his neck and how his eyes blinked that he was close to passing out. Maximilian must have known it, too, for he stood up and seized a firm hold on his brother’s arms. Lord Wilmot was no match for his brother in strength, for he came up to stand on his feet within an instant.
“Come, Willie,” Maximilian said, his tone quiet, soothing. “I am going to help you to your rooms. Can you walk?”
“I think so.”
With Lord Wilmot’s arm over his shoulder, Maximilian walked him slowly toward the postern door into the castle. Eugenia trailed along behind, feeling helpless. As was her habit when uncomfortable, she pulled out her pearl pendant and absently toyed with it.
Why would he hate his mother? I can see she is not a nice person, but an emotion as strong as hate?
Once more feeling that she witnessed things someone in her position should not, she followed the two men up the wide, winding staircase. She continued on because she knew Maximilian wanted her to.
Maximilian did not knock on Lord Wilmot’s door, instead he opened it and hauled his brother inside. At the threshold, she peeked in and watched as the Duke conversed briefly with the man she assumed was Lord Wilmot’s valet. Then the three of them passed into the bedroom and vanished from sight. Eugenia wait and tried not to fidget and worried that Lady Helena might have returned to her quarters and wondered where she was.
Within a few minutes, Maximilian returned and closed the door quietly behind him. “He has passed out,” he said. “I am certain he will have quite the hangover come the morning.”
“Will he be all right?”
He nodded, then glanced at the closed door. “I hope so. I have never seen him so despondent before.”
Gathering her courage, Eugenia asked, “Why would he hate the Duchess so?”
Not angry at such a personal question, Maximilian shook his head again and started walking down the corridor. “I wish I knew. I know they have not ever been close, for she can often be a tyrant. But this is extreme, even for Willie.”
“I wish I could help.”
He smiled down at her. “You already are. By being with me, giving me someone I can talk to. I never realized how lonely I have been until I met you.”
Eugenia smiled. “Then I am happy I can be here for you in both instances. However, I never considered that a duke might be lonely.”
“Oh, yes,” he replied. “Sometimes it is difficult to know the difference between someone who genuinely likes me and would like me even if I was a pauper, and someone who feigns affection for me in order to obtain something I may offer.”
“Like your hand in marriage.”
“Exactly.”
“Even so, you must have friends who you can confide in, whom you trust.”
“I do,” he replied. “The Earl of Mallen, Fergus, the groom you met. And now you.”
Eugenia stopped walking, forcing Maximilian to also halt, and turn back toward her. “Max,” she said, her tone tentative. “Forgive me, but you do not know me. While I am deeply flattered with your trust, how can you be certain I am not someone out to take advantage of you? After all, we only just met a few days ago.”
“Because you told me.”
Baffled, she tilted her head to the side and studied him in the dim light of the lamps on the wall. “I never said so, Max.”
“You just did.”
Smiling, extending his hand toward her in an encompassing gesture, Maximilian came back to her and gazed deep into her eyes. “If you are concerned about my putting my trust in you, then I do not have to be.”
