Page 25 of Daring with a Duke (The Jennings Family #2)

25

Ash

A sh strode into his study and the first thing he noticed was the glass of whisky his son nursed while lounging in the armchair before his massive desk. His son lifted the glass to take another sip, and Ash ripped it from his hands and slammed it on the desk.

“That was mine!”

Ash crossed his arms, leaned on his desk, and glared down at his son.

“That is the first thing you say?”

“What? You take away my betrothed, you exile me to the outskirts of civilization, and now you take away my drink too?”

“No, Colborn. I am not the one who is responsible for those things, you are. And the first words out of your mouth should have been asking how Felicity is doing after you shoved her into a sideboard so hard she was knocked to the floor.”

“ Felicity, is it?”

Ash ignored his son’s petulant remark.

“Your actions have proven you are nowhere near capable of caring for another person. I will not subject anyone to a future in your hands. I won’t subject anyone to your hands at all. Hence why you are going to Brackenridge Hollow.”

“Many women like my hands, I assure you.” Colborn’s lips tilted, his eyes gleaming smugly.

“You are certain of that?”

“I…” Colborn paused, then frowned. A flicker of doubt flashed in his blue eyes. “Of course they do. I’m me.”

Dear Lord. “I regret to inform you, son, but being you doesn’t magically make you some sort of savant. I have it on good authority that one such person most certainly does not like your hands.”

Colborn’s eyes flew wide, and his voice took on a squeaky pitch. “Felicity told you about us?”

“In passing and, thankfully, without any details.”

Colborn opened his mouth, but Ash cut him off with a lift of his hand. “Which I want absolutely none of. She made it quite clear that you highly overestimate your abilities. And from your attempt to grope and maul her in the library, I’m not at all surprised.”

His son’s mouth snapped shut.

Ash ran a hand through his hair, and his eyes fell shut. He prayed his son’s foolish actions wouldn’t hurt Felicity’s chances at another marriage. He opened his eyes and pinned a glare on his son.

“I hope you know that your actions have now risked her future. You will not, in no uncertain terms, ever relay that you ruined her. It will be difficult enough with your reputation…people will assume.”

Fuck . He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We will have to hope her reputation is stronger than yours, and that when she does marry, her husband is none the wiser. It is one thing to destroy your own future, but another’s? Have you ruined any other unmarried ladies I should know about?”

“No, I haven’t. She was my fiancé. Everyone knows the lines blur once you are betrothed. And if you hadn’t ended the betrothal, Father, then this wouldn’t even be an issue. Her future wouldn’t be at risk.” He sat back with a self-satisfied I have won smile on his face.

Ash laughed, because his son’s ignorance and arrogance were so profound it was comical. Colborn’s smile faltered.

“You think her future would not be at risk if she married you?” He leaned forward. “Your behavior in the library was abominable. Your treatment of a woman…I have never been more furious at and ashamed of both you and myself for what kind of man you are turning into. And that was the entire point of her visit here, Colborn. To save herself from you . Which she laid out to you in detail in the library. But for some reason, no matter what anyone says, all you hear is me, me, me .”

Ash’s lungs worked, and he fisted his hands, fighting for calm. Frustration with Colborn’s vanity and pomposity melded with Ash’s helplessness at being able to fix what had become of his son. What he had turned his son into.

“Yes, well, that is how it works, isn’t it? You always give me everything I want, so what am I supposed to think? No matter what I do, you throw coin at it or flaunt your title or pull a favor and make it go away, as if it never happened, as if I never—” He abruptly stopped talking and looked away.

And there it was. Exactly as Felicity had said. Beautiful and brilliant and bold, and clearly better at parenting than he was, even though he had five-and-twenty years of experience, and she was…five-and-twenty. He grimaced.

“That’s not happening this time, Colborn. You will remain here, and we will do things as a family and celebrate Pandora’s birthday. Once that is over, you will go to Brackenridge Hollow. It should only require a few months of work until the horses are ready for travel. I want you to lay off the vices—no drink, no women, no cards.”

Colborn’s eyebrows slammed together, and his lip curled up as if Ash’s words tasted sour. His eyes were wide with incredulity, or possibly incomprehension. Because apparently his son couldn’t fathom a world where his vices were taken from him.

“I mean it, Colborn. Partake in something ludicrous called work and do some self-reflection. I will join you at the end of summer, and we will bring the horses here together. And then, instead of flitting off to London or some raucous house party, you will stay here with us.”

“Is that another ultimatum? Remain here, or I’m cut off,” his son muttered, staring hard at the rug.

Ash blew out a sigh. “Look at me, Colborn.”

His son reluctantly met his gaze, one so much like his own, sometimes he felt as though he was looking into his past when he looked at his son. A past he never wanted to relive.

“It is not an ultimatum. It is a father asking to spend time with his son, so they can start making up for five-and-twenty years of distance.”

Colborn swallowed, his lips flat and jaw clenched. But he remained silent. Remained glaring at Ash’s desk as though he could light the papers atop it on fire with his gaze.

“I hope—one day—you will understand why I am doing this.”

Colborn’s childish snort and exaggerated eye roll suggested otherwise. But then his stare clashed with Ash’s, and what Ash saw there was akin to a knife to the gut.

“You’ve changed,” Colborn murmured.

And just like his eyes, his tone held a flicker of hope. Or a plea, perhaps. A silent plea for a father who did more than throw money at him to make him disappear. And that knife in Ash’s belly? He deserved to be gutted with it. Lord, how he had failed the young man before him.

“I have not been the father you deserve, Colborn. I mean to rectify that.”

Colborn dipped his chin in a nod, and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “I suppose I could stay. If the vice restriction is lifted once I return here.”

Ash’s throat thickened, and his chest seemed to collapse in on his heart. Yet at the same time he wanted to burst out laughing.

They had a long way to go, but perhaps there was a sliver of possibility for him and Colborn yet. For one of his two sons. But the words Colborn threw at Ash back in the library still sat heavily, an iron cloak of guilt.

Like you never harmed her.

He had. It was the truth. He was responsible for his late wife’s death, and his sons blamed him for it. The sliver of hope withered away. He feared that was a mountain too large to ever overcome.

“Have you heard from Jacob?” he asked, his words tired and dejected. “Do you know if he’ll be joining us for Pandora’s birthday?”

Colborn’s face went suspiciously blank. “I believe he’s too busy with his studies.”

While Jacob was away at Oxford, Ash always hoped his son could find time to come home for Pandora’s birthday, but for the past two years Jacob had attended university, he hadn’t had time. Whether that was true or an excuse, it was clear Colborn wasn’t going to provide any information about his brother. Ash hoped that meant Jacob at least had Colborn for support. Not that any twenty-year-old should be looking to Colborn for support or guidance.

“That is what I had thought. It has been a long while since he has come home, even when term is over.” And just in case Colborn and Jacob did stay in touch… “My letters to him, just as mine to you, go unanswered. I hope he knows he is welcome home any time.”

“I am sure he will come to see that.” Colborn absently studied his fingernails and mumbled, “Though he may also fear he might get exiled, so who knows…”

Despite his sins feeling more oppressive than ever, Ash’s lips twitched at his son’s sulky tone. Colborn was truly such a child. Ash prayed this exile would be the start of him growing up.

“So, you really didn’t sleep with her?”

Ash jerked back slightly at the abrupt question. He met Colborn’s questioning gaze. “Of course I didn’t.”

Guilt over his kiss with Felicity burned his cheeks, and it took everything in his power not to tug at his cravat. He had tried so fucking hard, and yet he still had betrayed his son, even if he hadn’t slept with Felicity.

“You look very guilty for someone professing he’s innocent in all of this.”

“Someone can feel guilt even if they didn’t commit the crime. I may not have slept with her, but…”

“But you want to.” Colborn laughed, and he seemed genuinely amused. “I’m not sure it even bothers me that you do. I…I think I was more angry you took away something that was supposed to be mine than the fact that it was Felicity at all.” He grimaced. “As you’ve pointed out, I’m not sure what that says about me. You feel guilty purely for thinking something wrong.”

But it hadn’t been just thinking. He had acted, and he couldn’t keep that from his son. “I wanted to, yes. And I didn’t.” He held his son’s gaze. “But I did kiss her.”

“Oh.” A rapid array of emotions flickered over Colborn’s face, then his gaze dropped to the floor, and his face slackened. His brow furrowed, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly.

“Despite the current situation, your treatment of Felicity, and my upset with you… You have every right to be angry with me for what I did.”

His son continued to stare at the rug in silence.

“I still betrayed you, Colborn. And for that, I must offer my sincerest apologies.”

Colborn shook his head and finally met Ash’s gaze again. “It’s odd. I do not think I’m mad about it. I mean, I am mad, I suppose. She is mine—”

A low growl rumbled deep in Ash’s throat, and Colborn’s eyes widened.

“Was mine,” Colborn hastily amended.

Ash slapped a hand on his thigh. “No, she wasn’t, Colborn.” He looked to the heavens for patience. “She was still her own person, even when she was your betrothed. But you didn’t see her as such. You saw her as your possession, belonging to you. And yes, I understand that is what the law dictates. But that is precisely why you are in no place to be someone’s husband. In a world where a woman is legally entrusted to your care, you must be fit for the task of protecting her—of providing her with the life she wants, just as you are fortunate to be free to live the life you want. Legally, she has no choice but to give you complete control over her. You must be deserving of that responsibility. It is a gift.”

“Just as you were deserving of that role with Mother?” Colborn’s words were soft, but that didn’t make them any less sharp, any less precise in hitting their mark.

Ash picked up his son’s whisky and threw the rest back, wishing he could submerge himself in the burn of the liquor. He stared at the empty glass, watching the small drop of amber liquid remaining curl around the bottom as he spun it slowly in his hands.

Ash drew in a deep breath, though it did nothing to combat the tightness in his lungs. “I failed your mother, Colborn. And I have failed you and Jacob.”

He met his son’s gaze and said the words that forever haunted him. “Your mother paid the price with her life. I will never forgive myself for that, and I will never be able to adequately express how sorry I am for taking your mother from you.”

The sorrow, the guilt, the pain filled him, took up all the space inside him so there wasn’t any left. No space for breathing lungs, no space for a beating heart, no space for pulsing blood.

“That is what happens when someone is entrusted to your care, and you are not fit for the role. I do not want that to be your fate as well.”

Colborn looked away, his fingers drumming on the arms of his chair. “I may see your point,” he said quietly, his voice tight. “I’m not sure even my own future can be trusted in my hands. I can’t help but think that if I had been in your shoes and someone like Felicity tried to seduce me, I wouldn’t have put up a fight at all. Regardless of if she was my son’s betrothed. And I think that might scare the shite out of me.”

He slowly lifted his gaze back to Ash, his eyes searching. “How am I your son when we are so vastly different?”

Ash’s stomach turned over. At the question. At the lost look in his son’s eyes. Because he knew the answer. How could a father and son be anything alike if a father was never present?

“We are different because we have lived very different lives,” Ash said, forcing the words past the thick remorse. “It’s never too late to change and grow for the better.” He let out a self-derisive huff. “God, look at me and how I have failed you. Five-and-twenty years, Colborn. Of failing. But I am determined to make sure that from this day forward, things are different.”

His gaze dropped to his empty glass. “I hope with time you will find that’s not how you would act in that situation any longer. I hope you are smarter than me and figure it out much, much faster.”

Colborn cocked an eyebrow. “Perhaps. And since we’ll be spending more time together, maybe some of your decency will rub off on me.”

Ash might be fooling himself, but the glimmer in Colborn’s eyes had him thinking that just maybe—in this small moment—they weren’t at odds.

“And perhaps a bit of your wildness will rub off on me,” he threw back. “I have been told a time or two I ought to loosen my restraints. More often than not by your sister.”

Colborn’s lips turned up, not quite a smile, but almost. “I look forward to corrupting you, Father.”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” Ash said gruffly, though he couldn’t prevent the uptick of his heart.

Because he was fairly certain this banter was precisely what a father and son were meant to share.