Page 50 of Duke of Eccess (Seven Dukes of Sin #4)

Enveigh shook his head slowly, glaring at Octavius from under his dark eyebrows like a snake from under a stone.

“You don’t need her like I do. You shouldn’t want to marry her.

She would have been mine, had you had any honor and respected the credo.

You should have allowed me to take care of her—I was the one who recognized her from years ago, Octavius.

I met her then. I knew her father. She’d been on my mind for all these years. ”

Octavius narrowed his eyes. That was true. He had heard Enveigh talk about a lady before, one who had dazzled him.

“But why haven’t you expressed your interest before?” asked Dorian, bewildered.

Irevrence chuckled. “Let me guess. Your feelings were genuine, but being as you are, the grass looked greener elsewhere. You only became seriously interested in her the moment you knew Octavius was, didn’t you, Archibald?”

Archibald’s jaw worked. “Don’t say that.”

Irevrence plopped onto a seat uninvited and spread his long legs. “Why not? I’m telling the truth.” He crossed one ankle over the other. “To be honest, I’ve always suspected our brotherhood wouldn’t survive a quarrel over a woman.”

Enveigh was breathing hard. “I’m afraid, Irevrence, that you’re right.

Our brotherhood is finished. You’ve offended Lady Agatha’s honor, Eccess, and she has no one to defend it.

You disrespected the credo of our brotherhood.

You seduced her, won her over with your wealth and opulence—that’s why she refused me.

I have no choice but to demand satisfaction. ”

“No—Archibald, don’t! You can’t do that,” came calls from the rest of the dukes.

“He’s one of us,” exclaimed Constantine. “This is not how we settle disagreements between brothers.”

“A duel is what started our brotherhood, isn’t it a great way to end it?” growled Archibald.

“Not after all these years, after everything we’ve been through,” said Lucien quickly. “Think, man?—”

“I don’t care.” Archibald stood directly before Octavius, expression livid. “Tomorrow morning. First light. Do you accept my challenge, or will you hide like a coward?”

Octavius’s jaw worked. He didn’t want to do this.

Heartbreak made him sore all over; his chest tightened, his skin prickled painfully, and it felt like his stomach was desperately clawing its way up his throat.

Never in his life had he ached to have a drink to dull his suffering as he did now.

What felt like a lifelong friendship was over, and a new, deep crack split the shards of his already broken heart.

But he was not going to have a drink.

“Tomorrow at dawn will be the day of my father’s death,” he rasped.

Silence hung between them, and a shadow of pity and empathy passed over Archibald’s face, and then he was a cold man again. “Then I guess you have no choice but to end up just like him.”

Enveigh might as well have stabbed him with a poisoned knife.

Octavius tried to find the strength to breathe. He couldn’t believe the man he’d trusted for years, one of his brothers, had said that.

“Archibald!” barked Dorian. “That is too low.”

A distant part of Octavius knew that Archibald was a manipulator like no other, a man who knew right where to deliver a blow that would hurt most. Who would know him better than one of his best friends?

And his friend had succeeded. He’d painted Octavius exactly as his own worst thoughts had always whispered in his mind.

Cowering from bullets, avoiding conflict, a boy who’d always escaped from discomfort.

If he refused the challenge, he’d merely confirm it. He’d be the unworthy boy he’d always been afraid he was.

Octavius had no choice but to agree.

Lucien stood before him, his blue eyes searching Octavius’s. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t do this, Octavius. We don’t fight each other, we don’t kill each other. I know that hurt, but let it go.”

“If you do accept the challenge,” added Constantine, his features rigid, “you know what it means for us. It will be the end of the Seven.”

“ He ended the brotherhood when he broke the credo and took the woman who was supposed to be mine,” said Archibald, his voice low and dangerous.

Octavius already felt ended…

Dead.

Strange, he realized, to feel this. He’d lived inside a cage with ghosts and tried to distract himself with pleasure. But now he had to face the discomfort, the pain, the conflict, look straight into the darkness.

And not run.

The old him would be cracking jests, offering his best cognac and trying to butter up Archibald. The old him would never agree to a duel. Never stand again as a target for a pistol.

This time aimed by someone who actually wanted him dead.

He looked at the Duke of Rath, who used to be fury itself, a hundred times more likely than anyone else to be found early at dawn at Hampstead Heath. He supposed no one knew duels as well as Dorian. “Will you be my second?”

Dorian’s jaw tightened. “Goddamn it, Octavius. Never thought I’d be a second in a duel. Of course I’ll be your second. But I must urge you to reconsi?—”

Enveigh interrupted as he said to Irevrence, “Will you be mine?”

Sylvester chuckled. “How could I ever miss such a joyful event?”

After they had gone, Octavius lay on the sofa in his study still considering drinking the entire bottle of cognac. His head was splitting in two, his stomach twisting with nausea. Exhaustion made him heavy and numb.

Yet another loss.

His brotherhood. His best friends.

This evening would be the anniversary of being forced to eat Christmas pudding while being used for target practice. And he could do nothing to numb the memories.

It was already dark outside when a shy knock sounded at the door.

“Go away,” Octavius called dully.

But the door just creaked open, light falling into the dark room from the crack. “Your Grace?” asked Margaret.

Her sweet voice was like balm on his wound. Just like his father, on Christmas Day he would have a duel. This might be the last full day of his life.

Octavius sat up. “Yes, my dear?”

“Are you all right?” came another voice, and James’s head poked through the entrance.

Sophie’s smaller head appeared, as well. “We don’t know what to do.”

“Without Miss Fields,” explained Margaret.

“Will you read us to sleep?” asked James.

Octavius felt her absence like a gaping hole in his heart. How could he have forgotten? She hadn’t just run from him. She had also run from them .

Everyone in this world left him. Mama, Father, Temperance, Archibald…

But these three children wouldn’t. They were still here. They would be for years.

More than that. They needed him. They’d been left behind just like he was, especially James, who reminded him so much of himself. He couldn’t leave them the way everyone had left him.

“Most certainly,” Octavius said as he rose and left the glass of cognac untouched next to the sofa. “It will be my pleasure to read to you.”

In the children’s bedchamber, he tucked each of them into their beds, and as Octavius sat down at Sophie’s bed to read the book, James said, “Will you return to drinking and racing and playing cards and your French mistress now Miss Fields is gone?”

The question shot straight into Octavius’s heart. “Her name is not Miss Fields, James.”

“She—” James cleared his throat. “Perhaps she lied about her name. But she was the only governess out of seven that didn’t deny me full portions.”

Fury hit Octavius like a blow in his gut. “They forbade you to eat your fill?”

James nodded. “It’s not very gentlemanlike to look like me, they all said that.”

Octavius cursed under his breath, rising from Sophie’s bed. “I wish I had known that. I’d have let them go the moment I knew.”

“You don’t think they’re right?”

Octavius glanced at the girls. Margaret was looking at him with curious eyes over her blanket. Sophie was blinking sleepily.

Damn it, but the cycle stopped here. Octavius inhaled slowly.

“No, I don’t think they were right at all.

Growing up, I encountered the same judgment from my own father, my governess, and my tutor.

They all thought I was too fat for a duke.

My father died and my mama ran away, and I was left alone.

Like you are. I was miserable every day.

I hated the way I looked so much, I couldn’t find the strength and courage to talk to people.

Especially to ladies. Even in my Oxford times, I was this big quiet oaf.

It’s funny, the Duke of Enveigh was the first friend I made at Oxford. He taught me…”

Octavius chuckled as he remembered the first time Archibald took him to a brothel.

He hadn’t even been able to talk to the ladies there, with whom there was no rejection possible.

It was alcohol that had helped at first. Then, as he talked to them over and over, he didn’t need alcohol anymore.

And when women began throwing themselves at him because of his size and not despite it, he realized that all that fear was in his head.

Probably not the best explanation to give his three charges, however.

“He taught me my size didn’t matter,” Octavius continued.

“Yes, it helped that we began training in pugilism together, riding horses, fencing. Physical exercise made me strong, but I’ve always been big-boned.

I’ll die big-boned. I have many faults, my dear boy, but thanks to the Duke of Enveigh, I learned that the size of my body is not a fault at all.

I encourage you to think about yourself the same way.

I certainly do not think you should change anything about your body or think any less of yourself. ”

“Would you…would you teach me pugilism?”

Octavius smiled and reached out and patted the boy’s head. “It would be my honor, James.”

The grin of relief and joy that split James’s face made his heart ache. Silence filled the room for a few moments.

“Miss Fields…Lady Agatha would have said the same thing,” said Sophie sleepily. “Are you mad she lied, Your Grace?”

He was mad at her. Both mad and hurt. Her lies showed him he was not worthy of her trust and her true love, and he fell for her like a complete fool.

“I am,” he said. “It’s not nice to be lied to, especially by someone you trust, is it?”

Sophie nodded.

“Are the three of you cross with her?” he asked, almost unsure what he wanted the answer to be.

The smallest of his wards pursed her lips a little. “I think she only lied about her name and, I suppose, her position—but she didn’t lie about other things. I’ve had nothing but kindness from her. I’ve always thought she truly cared about us.”

James nodded. “I think being a Mad Heiress is capital!”

Octavius chuckled, even though those words slashed across his heart.

Margaret nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s quite unladylike to lie, though, even if she is the daughter of an earl. If I had a stepmother like she has and an evil man who wanted to marry me, I’m sure I’d run away as well.”

Octavius nodded. “Quite.”

Though he agreed with Margaret, he still couldn’t shake the feeling of Temperance’s betrayal.

He supposed he understood she had to lie in the beginning, but after they’d shared so much, couldn’t she see he would never have betrayed her?

He’d go to war for her. He’d completely protect her no matter what.

He’d never let them put her into an asylum.

All she’d had to do was tell him the truth. But he supposed he wasn’t honest with her all the way either, never sharing his true vulnerability. He’d never told her he loved her.

Octavius swallowed hard at the thought, but these children’s support, their care for him, wrapped around him like a warm blanket.

Sophie reached out and patted him gently on the cheek, pressing her head against his shoulder. “Do you think she’ll return?”

Octavius felt his shoulders slump. “I don’t think she will, Sophie. I am sorry. I know that’s already the seventh governess you’ve lost, but I don’t want to keep your hopes up. I think she’d always wanted to hide until Christmas Day, get her inheritance, then be a free woman.”

Sophie sighed. “I think she’ll write to us. Then maybe once she gets her money…maybe she’ll visit.”

James nodded stubbornly. “I think so, too. She still promised to suspend me and run electric fluid through me.”

Octavius chuckled and brought Sophie closer to him, and as though by invisible command, James and Margaret moved to cuddle in the bed with the two of them. He hugged them all like a big mother hen. Their small, warm bodies clinging to him were like a salve on his wounded soul.

He didn’t sleep all night, instead sitting in the reading chair in the corner of the children’s bedchamber, listening to his wards—his children—sleep.

He watched James walk in his sleep, mumbling as he tried to get to the stairs, searching for Miss Fields.

It broke Octavius’s heart all over again that he couldn’t call for her as she’d called for him.

Gently Octavius guided him back to bed.

It seemed Temperance had left not only his heart broken.