Page 24

Felix

Felix planted his hands on the dressing table in his guest chambers and finally let his head drop.

The weight of the past week—the exhaustion, that tense meeting in the Duke’s study—crashed over him with too much force for his fatigued muscles to handle.

Dear Lord, it had been one blow after another.

A broken betrothal. Because that bastard did something to his sister, something Felicity had clearly tried to gloss over.

His fingers tightened, fingernails digging into the wood as acid burned through his veins. How dare that self-important swine? He drew in a shuddery breath and then released it. Smooth. Controlled.

It was fine. Felicity wouldn’t be marrying the bastard any longer.

No thanks to you .

He let out a roar and slammed his fist on the tabletop.

Thank Christ the Duke had stepped in when his son’s appalling conduct toward Felicity came to light.

Felix’s gut twisted. This was all his fault.

His arms buckled, his legs followed, and he fell to a crouch, head resting against the edge of the table.

I’m sorry, Papa. I have failed you once again. Failed this family.

His throat burned, tightened. He could only imagine what Father would think if he were here to witness this.

Well, it would never have happened. Frederick Jennings would never have bungled something so terribly, would have known how to protect Felicity.

Felix stupidly had thought the answer to that was becoming a duchess.

She would be untouchable. A fat lot of good that did when the duke in question was the one she needed protecting from.

Self-loathing roiled in his gut, latched onto his insides and twisted. He thumped his head against the edge of the table.

Days like today only highlighted how deeply he still needed Father’s guidance.

Father always knew how to keep his family safe.

There had been so many bloody times Felix had turned to the side in the study, looking to his father.

Only to find the space achingly empty. There was no father hovering by his side to provide guidance.

No encouraging smile, no bright amber eyes full of life.

No, life had given him four-and-twenty years of tutelage before ripping his father away.

Pressure built below his eyes, his cheekbones throbbing.

It was like trying to move through life with an essential part of himself cut away.

But the grief didn’t matter. The doubt. The uncertainty. Because there was no one else. No one to turn to. No one else to assume responsibility. His family had needed him—still needed him.

His hands curled around the edge of the dressing table, and he hauled himself up.

He rolled his shoulders back. It didn’t matter he was ill-equipped for the job.

It didn’t matter he was struggling. He was the Earl.

This was his duty—his family, his estate.

He had to pick himself back up and keep trying.

He knew, at least in that, he could make his father proud. Because a Jennings never gave up.

He blew out a breath. And now…now he had a sister who had just completely lost her composure in the company of a Duke.

Felix had never seen Felicity lose her composure like that.

One moment they’d been discussing how to smooth over the broken betrothal, how the Duke intended to preserve her reputation, her prospects. Then Felicity had…cracked.

She’d all but called the Duke an imbecile. And as much as that was unpardonably rude, Felix hadn’t even cared about that. It was the laughter. Wild. Borderline unhinged. And then her final words, flung like a gauntlet, before she stormed from the study, fire in her eyes, acid in her tone:

“Thank you, Your Grace, for making my decisions for me, treating me like a possession, just like everyone else in this god-forsaken life.”

There had been so much pain wrapped in his sister’s tone. His own heart had flinched. Even though it wasn’t his hurt, it cut just the same. All he wanted was to protect his family, ensure their happiness. He needed to find her. Apologize. Sit her down and talk—no, listen . Really listen for once.

And any moment now, someone was going to knock on Felix’s door.

A man Felix never thought he’d have to face again. The man he’d run from after the most incredible night of his life.

No matter what he did, he couldn’t get the man from his thoughts.

Not even when Benedict had visited. What better way to forget someone than shag someone else?

Doesn’t work so well when certain parts decide they only work for one infuriating valet.

Felix had never been more grateful to be interrupted than when his brother had knocked on his door, giving Felix an escape from that embarrassment.

Not that he was happy his brother had been having marital troubles.

But those were fixed now. So, it didn’t make him a horrible person to be glad for the reprieve. Right?

He groaned.

His eyes landed on the door. The clock’s tick pierced the silence of his bedchamber. Each one like a jolt to his frame.

Felix had no bloody idea how to act around him.