Page 11 of The Burdened Duke (Willenshires #4)

“I suppose that if somebody you admire and respect has a low opinion on something, it is hard not to share it.”

“And love.”

“Hm?”

“And love. Somebody you admire, respect… and love. That’s a rather crucial part of the story, don’t you think?”

It was almost time to go down for dinner, and yet William was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring into space, shoulders hunched. He kept replaying the conversation he’d had with Miss Brookford over and over in his head.

There’d been more conversations beyond that particular one, but always painfully polite, always with other people involved.

What are you doing? He asked himself angrily. You’ve decided. It is decided. You have an agreement of honour with the lady. Miss Bainbridge is the woman for you. She’ll be a perfect duchess. So why spend all of this time worrying about Lavinia Brookford? Miss Bainbridge made it clear she wasn’t pleased with you talking to her so excessively. Why upset your future wife?

It made sense, after all. Miss Bainbridge was the one who he had agreed to marry. Perhaps the decision had been made in haste, but it wasn’t as if he could withdraw his consent now. A deal had been made, and no gentleman would renege on such an agreement. And really, she was the best choice.

Perhaps if he kept repeating it to himself, he would finally start to believe it.

With a sigh, William dragged himself to his feet. He had dismissed his valet in order to think more clearly, and yet he hadn’t managed to really think about anything at all.

William had more or less given up on becoming attracted to Miss Bainbridge. She was pretty enough, for sure, and intelligent, and perfect in all respects for the role she so clearly wanted. And yet he felt nothing towards her.

He wondered if she knew. Probably. She was a clever woman, after all, and very intuitive.

Did she mind? He imagined not. After all, a husband who was not actually in love with his wife was more likely to leave her alone, and Miss Bainbridge struck him as the kind of woman who liked to be left alone.

It was also apparent that she did not like Miss Lavinia Brookford.

It seemed pointless to deny, at least in his own head, that he found himself drawn to Miss Brookford. William wasn’t entirely sure what it was that attracted him so strongly to her, or why he had not yet given the wretched locket back to the woman, but nevertheless the feelings were there.

He wished they would go away. Miss Brookford was not part of the plan. William’s plan was a carefully laid one, and he did not intend to go astray. Miss Brookford was… was something else, to be sure, but she would not make a good duchess. Not without a great deal of work, and William needed a duchess.

He stared bleakly at himself in the mirror. He already knew how the dinner table seats had been laid out, and he was sitting directly next to Miss Bainbridge.

“It makes perfect sense,” he said aloud. “Perfect sense.”

***

Billiard balls scuttled across the green baize tabletop, skidding towards the pockets in the corner. The ball William had been aiming at missed the pocket, bouncing off the side and ricocheting back towards him. He bit back a curse and readjusted his position for a second shot.

“Goodness, you’re terrible at this time.”

William flinched, banging his knee on the underside of the table. He twisted around, squinting at his sister.

“Go away, Katherine. You’re meant to be sitting with the ladies in the drawing room.”

“And you are meant to be in the dining room still, drinking port with the gentlemen and laughing genteelly at unfunny jokes. Why are you in here, playing billiards by yourself?”

He bit his lip. “I have a migraine.”

She narrowed her eyes, leaning forward. “Lies. I can always tell when you’re lying, you know. And I can always tell when you have a migraine – your eyes become all misty and rimmed with crimson. You don’t have a migraine.”

A flash of bad temper rolled through William. He took up a position again, aiming for the same ball as before. He wasn’t exactly playing the game properly, just hitting balls almost at random, waiting for… well, he wasn’t sure what he was waiting for.

“I wanted a little time to myself. Is that too much to ask? My house is full of guests, none of which were invited by me, and I am expected to spend all day and half of the night entertaining them. It's overwhelming, Kat. It's nearly unbearable.”

There was a brief silence, and William wished he hadn’t spoken so loudly.

“Your house,” Katherine repeated, after a pause.

He sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“I know that you inherited everything, but I thought that we would all be united. Wasn’t that what we agreed? If one of us couldn’t get married, we’d take care of each other either way?”

He bit his lip, straightening slowly. The balls clipped and clacked their way across the table. He missed again.

“Yes,” he murmured, feeling oddly ashamed. “Yes, I remember that we agreed that. You know what I mean, though, Katherine.”

She folded her arms. “I’m not entirely sure that I do, you know. Lately, you’ve been acting stranger than ever.”

“What do you mean, stranger than ever? I am myself.”

Katherine snorted. “Well, Miss Bainbridge is stamping around in the drawing room, waiting for you to arrive. She’s been insufferable today. Have you said something to her?”

“Why do you assume it’s my fault?” William shot back. His temper was hanging by a thread, and he was determined not to have an outburst. He might possess a striking resemblance to their father, but he swore he would not comport himself in the same manner.

“William, when she arrived here, she was cool and calm and entirely at ease. She seemed secure of you. Now she’s… well, a little on edge. She’s snapping at her family, being disagreeable to the other guests, and seems to be trying to chase you around the house. Whatever has happened, she’s not quite as sure of you as she was before. If you’ve changed your mind about her, it would be better to put her out of her misery.”

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. The billiard balls were scattered all over the table, but he didn’t feel much of a desire to finish his odd little game.

“I have not changed my mind. It’s just…”

Katherine waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts. William stared at the colourful billiard balls until his eyes blurred.

“I am engaged to Miss Bainbridge,” he blurted out.

Katherine’s eyes bulged. “ What ? You proposed to her?”

“She proposed to me, actually,” he mumbled, and launched into a description of their strange meeting together, although he omitted how he had met Miss Brookford directly afterwards. Katherine’s brows drew together as he spoke.

“It’s not an official engagement,” she said slowly. “One might argue that you weren’t really bound .”

“Come, come, Kat, that’s not true. I am honour-bound to the woman. It’s just that I do not love her,” he said at last, the words small and tight. “I’m a fool to want love.”

“You aren’t a fool. Oh, Will, I had no idea.”

He swallowed thickly. “You can’t tell anyone. Not yet.”

“I won’t, Will, you know I won’t. I must tell Timothy, though – have I your permission to that? He’s the soul of discretion.”

He nodded, and Katherine crossed the space between them and folded her arms around him. William closed his eyes, resting his chin on his sister’s shoulder, and letting himself sink into the embrace.

Just for a moment, though.

He cleared his throat, straightening up and gently pushing Katherine away. Disappointment crossed her face, quickly erased, but he still saw it.

“You can’t marry her, Will,” she said, voice quiet. “Miss Bainbridge, I mean. I know that you have a bargain with her, but can’t you consider your happiness at all? Miss Brookford is…”

“Enough about Miss Brookford,” he said shortly. “She won’t make a good duchess. I can’t consider her as a wife, even if she were interested in me. Which, by the way, I assume that she is not. As for my happiness, I must be the best judge of that, mustn’t I? Please don’t talk about it, Katherine.”

Katherine gave a tight, annoyed sigh. “Very well, very well. You always did do as you liked, William. I shall let you manage your own happiness, then, but remember this – it is very important to all of us that you are happy, do you understand?”

William pressed his lips together. “I shall be happy if I can do my duty.”

There was a brief pause after this. He knew at once that he’d made a mistake.”

“Father used to say that, didn’t he?” Katherine said, her tone off-handed and deceptively light. “I hope you aren’t letting his lessons and rules shape your choice of wife, William.”

“Of course not. But… well, he wasn’t always wrong, was he?”

Katherine only stared at him, holding his gaze until he looked away.

“That man,” she said at last, “has overshadowed our lives for years. He drove Henry out of the country, nearly broke Alexander, nearly broke me, and you… well, William, you are unrecognizable from the boy I knew and loved when we were children.”

“I’m sorry I am such a disappointment to you,” he snapped, but Katherine darted towards him, gripping his shoulders and turning him to face her.

“You are a not a disappointment , I just know that if you’d been raised by kind, good parents, you would be a different man now. A happier one, less anxious, more carefree. I want you to be happy , Will! Why is it hard for you to believe me?”

Avoiding her eye, William carefully brushed away her hands and stepped past her towards the door.

“As I said, Katherine. I will be happy when I can do my duty. Dukes are not destined for happiness. The sooner you accept that, the easier life will become. I have accepted it myself.” He paused at the door, finally glancing back at her. “You should go back to the ladies in the drawing room. We gentlemen will join you presently.”

He didn’t wait for a response, simply slipped out into the cool, dark hallway.

Katherine did not follow him.

***

In the dining room, the seating arrangement had been abandoned. The gentlemen had mostly moved up to one end of the table, now that the ladies between them had gone, and were leaning towards each other in clusters. The air was heavy with cigar smoke, the table sticky with spilled brandy.

When William slipped into the room, he noticed several footmen shifting from foot to foot, stifling yawns and waiting for the opportunity to clear the table.

Most of the guests were deep in conversation, and did not notice William entering the room again.

With a few exceptions, of course.

Henry, who was still sitting opposite his brother, glanced sharply up, eyes narrowed.

“Where did you go?” he asked, as William lowered himself into his seat. “Are you alright?”

“Quite well, thank you,” William lied smoothly. Henry did not seem convinced, but did not press further, thankfully.

Feeling eyes on him, he glanced down the table and saw none other than Mr. Bainbridge staring at him. The man offered a frosty smile, and almost immediately abandoned his seat in favour of an empty one directly beside William.

Oh, wonderful, William thought tiredly. I might as well have gone to join the ladies right away, or else stayed in the billiards room.

“Fabulous party, your Grace,” Mr. Bainbridge said, smiling cheerfully. He was a tall, almost cadaverous-looking man, with a hawkish nose and the same sharp, sparkling eyes as his daughter. He was known as a man of few words and unbelievably deep pockets.

“Thank you, Mr. Bainbridge. I’m sorry you did not feel ready for a tour of the Baths earlier today.”

“Yes, well, my wife and I attend Bath regularly for the water, you know. I’ve seen it all and done it all. In fact, I would say that there isn’t a great deal that surprises Mrs. Bainbridge and me.”

This felt like a pointed comment, and William was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. He flashed the man a tense smile.

“Quite right, I suppose,” he said, in the hopes that this uninviting comment would stop the conversation in its tracks.

He should have known better. Mr. Bainbridge gestured for a footman to refill his brandy glass. He swirled the liquid round and round in the glass, holding it up to the light.

“A fine vintage, this,” he said at last, taking a long sniff. “I can always tell. I have a palate for such things, you know. I can sniff out a liar as easily as I can a corked wine.”

William didn’t bother smiling at this. “How useful for you.”

“Indeed, it is. My dear Victoria – my daughter, you know – is much the same. A clever little thing, she is. We have high hopes for her.”

William tensed. “She is certainly a remarkably intelligent woman. I am often surprised by her intellect.”

“Hm. You don’t strike me as a man who would underestimate a woman.”

“I am not.”

“My Victoria is a clever girl. Cleverer than folks give her credit for, in fact. Once she’s got her mind set on something, she gets it. Always. She’s our only child, of course, and I recall that when she was young, people tended to say things about how much we must have wished she were a boy. I always laughed at them and told them they had no clue of what they were speaking. Boy or girl, Victoria is a force of nature. We never wished we had a son – not in her place, at least – and we never imagined that she was any less than she is.”

The conversation was growing more and more pointed, and William longed to fidget in his seat. Mr. Bainbridge was staring at him with those pale, unblinking eyes, cutting through all the layers of William’s excuses and concerns, all the way through to the vulnerable nerve underneath.

It wasn’t a pleasant experience.

“You are a good father, I think,” William said at last. “Miss Bainbridge is worthy of you.”

“She is worthy of the best in the world,” Mr. Bainbridge said, and there was a hint of sourness in his voice now. “The best food, clothes, friends, future. The best husband.”

“I am inclined to agree.”

“Anyone who trifles with her affections… forgive me, with her expectations … will find himself regretting his actions.”

William could not let this one go. He shifted in his seat, looking Mr. Bainbridge full in the face.

“I am not sure why you are telling me this, Mr. Bainbridge. It almost feels like a threat.”

Mr. Bainbridge narrowed his eyes. “You understand me well, your Grace, I think.”

“No gentleman would make a promise he did not intend to keep, I think. However, that also means that a gentleman must be careful about what promises he does make, and how he extends them. Don’t you agree?”

Mr. Bainbridge seemed to take his meaning at last. He said nothing, only blinking slowly, like a cat.

William had had more than enough. Glancing across the table, he found Henry still looking at him, his eyes sharp. William rose to his feet, and the other gentlemen glanced over at him, their conversations faltering away.

“I think it is time to let the long-suffering servants get into the dining room,” William said, with a wry smile. “They have waited long enough. Come, shall we join the ladies?”

There was a general murmur of assent, accompanied by the sound of chairs scraping upon the floor as gentlemen set down their glasses draining the final remnants of their brandy. They moved languidly towards the door, and William was one of the last men out of the dining room.

Not quite the last, though. When he glanced over his shoulder, Mr. Bainbridge was only just getting up from his seat, and his gaze was firmly fixed on William’s retreating back.