Page 32 of Daring with a Duke (The Jennings Family #2)

32

Ash

A sh was mentally and physically exhausted. He had hoped the swim would tire him so severely he wouldn’t be able to dwell on the mess that was his and his son’s relationship. Nor the fact that his heart was in a constant battle with itself over Felicity. He paused at the bottom of the flight of stairs, his grip on the banister tightening, just like the band around his lungs.

Too many people were trying to argue that he should be with Felicity. Even his own son had hinted at it. Which had the devil inside him having way too many ideas. Ideas that involved words that started with ‘f’. And while he couldn’t deny there may be some salacious f-words on the list, the main ones were future and family and feelings.

But then there was the other side of him, the broken side. The one that knew he had sinned one too many times in this life to ever deserve the happiness he’d have with Felicity. That she would be better off with someone younger—perhaps more mature than Colborn, but still younger than Ash.

Felicity should be taken care of, cherished. And while Ash would do that and more, his time on this earth was limited. As he’d stared at his reflection in the looking glass, the creases between his eyes and along his forehead more pronounced, his hair streaked with more silver than he remembered, the reality of his age was undeniable.

He knew Felicity’s words from the beach were true. That he had no control over the fact that things had gone wrong during his wife’s labor. Yet, there wouldn’t have been a labor—death—if Ash hadn’t convinced his wife to have another child…

Just one more, Winifred. I promise I won’t demand any further children from you. Holding a sleeping Pandora against his chest, her cheeks rosy from the warmth of his embrace, he had pleaded his case, desperate, grasping. Winifred had glanced between them, father and daughter, and released a heavy sigh that seemed to bear the all the world’s burdens. Fine, Your Grace, I relent. One more.

Sam constantly berated Ash for punishing himself. But no one understood. They couldn’t unless they’d lived through it. You play a part in someone else’s death and then tell me how easily you can forgive yourself, he wanted to scream.

This was not some small slight. His wife, his newborn daughter, had died . Every time he was selfish, someone got hurt. It wasn’t a pain that ever went away. He still had the ribbon Winnifred had embroidered with their daughter’s name, to be worn as a bracelet once she was born. Emmeline. His daughter who never lived. Fuck . The old, familiar, uncontrollable despair fought to resurface.

He shook his head and did his damnedest to swallow down the tightness in his throat as he made his way to deal with the problem at hand. Felicity’s brother, Lord Bentley, had arrived. He was hardly in the state of mind this discussion required, but that didn’t matter. Duty called. And the Duke showed up.

He strode down the front steps as a white coach came to a stop in front of Felicity. He would need to inform Lord Bentley the betrothal was off. It wasn’t possible the Earl had yet received the letter Ash had dispatched only two days prior. Which meant the man was here because he had received Ash’s first missive about Felicity’s surprise appearance.

There were going to be endless inquiries—to which Ash would need to respond with delicacy and tact. Lord Bentley’s reaction to the broken betrothal was sure to be one of displeasure, and the last thing Ash needed was him to pick up on the undercurrent of whatever existed between Ash and the man’s younger sister. Or Ash could be seeing pistols at dawn. And considering Felicity’s natural proficiency with a pistol, that probably would end very badly for him.

Ash stood back to allow brother and sister privacy to greet each other. The Earl stepped from his carriage, and Felicity walked forward…and then launched herself into her brother’s arms.

“Felix!”

Lord Bentley scooped up his sister and gave her what looked like a painfully tight squeeze. She was dwarfed by her brother. Ash had never realized how large a man Lord Bentley was. He was around Ash’s height, but much broader.

Besides his large size, he was essentially the male version of Felicity. Amber hair that fell about his ears with matching amber eyes. Eyes that currently crinkled at the corners as he smiled with his sister in his arms, relief evident on his tired features. He almost appeared beautiful, sharing the perfectly proportioned features his sister had.

“Bloody hell, Flick.” Lord Bentley’s low rumble just barely drifted up to Ash’s ears. “You cannot run off like that. If I wasn’t so happy you’re safe, I would kill you right now. I’m still not counting it out.”

She shot him a cheeky smile. “I’d like to see you try, brother.”

“You have no idea, sister,” he growled. “Running off to the country on your own? Do you know how bloody dangerous that was? You could have been set upon by highwaymen. People have died .”

“Do not fret, Felix. I had a pistol and”—she tucked her arm in his and gave it a pat with her other hand—“I am an incredible shot.” He looked at her skeptically as they turned toward Ash. Her lips pursed. “I would have thought you wouldn’t be here for days yet.”

Ash didn’t miss the disappointment coating her words. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about what this was between them. Ash hadn’t had a chance to let her know that there was nothing between them.

Lie. What was between them was everything . Now that Ash had gotten to experience a small piece of heaven that was being in Felicity’s arms, it appeared the fates had decided the time had finally come for her to leave.

“As soon as I received the Duke’s note, I set out for you. Mother is waiting at home in case we ended up traveling right past each other. But I couldn’t sit at home and wait.”

Felicity winced. “I could see the news being distressing. I’m shocked you heard about the broken betrothal already.”

Ash grimaced. Bugger.

Lord Bentley stopped in his tracks, and Felicity stumbled.

The man’s hand shot out to steady his sister at the same time his gaze shot to Ash’s. “Broken betrothal? What are you speaking of, sister?”

Felicity’s amber brows furrowed, and her nose scrunched. “Wait a moment. You couldn’t possibly have received the Duke’s letter yet. Why are you here?”

“I believe I’m the one asking the questions here,” her brother said, his voice authoritative, brooking no argument.

Felicity patted her brother’s hand. “Yes, yes, sure you are, Felix.”

“Flick,” her brother growled.

Ash almost snorted. He had a feeling Felicity caused her brother, and her father before him, all sorts of grief. One would never have guessed by the way she held herself out in society. So covert was she—perfectly composed, modest, demure—she should have been employed by the Home Office for undercover work. Ash’s heart squeezed. He was one of the few blessed with the knowledge of who she truly was. A gift he would forever treasure.

Ash stepped forward and extended his hand to Lord Bentley, who returned Ash’s handshake.

“Your brother is here, Lady Felicity, because I wrote to him immediately upon your arrival.”

“I came as soon as I could manage,” Lord Bentley said. “I received the letter just two days past. There was extreme flooding, mail has been delayed for days, and the backlog has been pure chaos.” He glanced at his sister. “And apparently not only do we have whatever spurred your visit to discuss, sister, but a broken betrothal as well.” He cocked an eyebrow and met Ash’s gaze with a hard stare.

Lord Bentley may be much younger than Ash, but he was most definitely not a man to be crossed.

“Let us reconvene in my study, and we can discuss,” Ash said.

If Lord Bentley’s scowl was any indication, this conversation was going to be bloody fantastic.