Page 7 of The Burdened Duke (Willenshires #4)

He'd been too brusque, that was for certain. William had seen Miss Brookford flinch when he’d rudely informed her that he did not care for horse riding. His change of subject had been clumsy and fooled nobody. Thank heaven only she had heard it, although doubtless she would mention the conversation to others.

He felt eyes on him across the table, and didn’t need to look to know that it was Miss Bainbridge. Her expression, no doubt, would be impassive and unreadable as always, but there would be a flash of annoyance in her clear eyes. They had a bargain. Oh, the engagement, such as it was, would not become common knowledge for a while, but that didn’t matter.

I am a betrothed man, just about. I should have walked away from her. I should have said no.

Regret, it must be said, was a painful and inescapable thing.

Miss Bainbridge believed that she and William were to marry, sooner rather than later. So did the rest of Society, as a matter of fact, even if they didn’t know about the betrothal.

And then he went ahead and waltzed with an obscure spinster and escorted her into dinner.

Yes, this would be talked about a great deal, after tonight. William bit back a sigh. If only his mother hadn’t tried to force him to dance with that poor, exhausted girl. Miss Gillian looked tired, and he suspected this hour was much later than she was used to staying up.

And there were hours to go.

He glanced sideways at his companion. Miss Brookford was staring down at her plate, a frown between her brows. He hoped he hadn’t offended her too much. She didn’t strike him as a woman who was easily offended.

“I believe your father has an interest in breeding horses,” he heard himself say. It was hard to feign interest in such a subject, but he was rewarded when Miss Brookford’s face lit up. “I assume that is where your love of horses came from?”

“Oh, yes! My favourite horse is Stepper, I bred him myself. He’s quite remarkable. Only last week, on a gallop across the hills, we…”

She launched into a story about her horse, about its credentials and breeding, speed and strength. William was not interested, of course, but he smiled politely. It was pleasant to see people lit up with interest, visibly happy to talk about their favourite subject. There was something about Miss Brookford, about her unselfconscious chatter, that made him want to keep listening.

She had a pleasant face, too. William was used to seeing pretty women – Society was full of beauties – but Miss Brookford’s features were intriguing in a way he had not encountered before.

“… something scared him, I think,” Miss Brookford was saying now. “Stepper doesn’t scare easily these days, but something darted across the path. A rabbit, perhaps? He reared up, and I had a hard time keeping my seat, I can tell you that.”

William’s throat tightened. Suddenly, he was plain old Lord William Willenshire again, eldest son to a duke, standing in front of a sweating, mincing beast of a horse, his father’s insults ringing in his ears.

“By God, William, you’ll mount that horse if it’s the last thing you do!”

“I can’t, Father. The horse is nervous. It’ll throw me.”

“Have I raised a coward? Do it at once, or I’ll summon your mother and siblings to witness your shame!”

He closed his eyes. The words still stung, despite William knowing, logically, that he was not a coward and the horse had, indeed thrown its rider.

Of course, the rider had been the old Duke, and not William himself.

I would have died. It would have been my neck broken, not Father’s. He would be alive, with Henry as his new heir, none of my siblings married, and all of them miserable.

“Y-Your Grace?”

William’s eyes snapped open, and he found Miss Brookford watching him, her expression curious and a little concerned.

“Hm?”

“Are you… are you quite well?”

He forced a smile. “Yes, yes, thank you.”

She tilted her head to one side, and he had the sense that she was not convinced. To his horror, he felt the urge to blurt it all out – the horse, his father, the deadline .

Against all odds, William was saved by his mother.

The dowager rose, smiling shyly at her guests.

“Ladies, shall we retire?”

There was a general kerfuffle of activity, ladies rising to their feet and gentlemen falling over themselves to stand respectfully. William rose too, of course. Miss Brookford eyed her half-finished supper with something like regret, but obediently rose, following the other ladies out of the door.

Miss Bainbridge was one of the last to go, and he felt her eyes lingering on him as she passed. The door closed behind them, and he heard the distant laughter and chatter as the ladies headed away towards the drawing room.

The atmosphere relaxed palpably once the ladies were gone. Jests could grow a little coarser now, men could drink alcohol more freely, and there were fewer sensibilities to offend.

Or so some gentlemen thought.

William shifted uneasily, already dreading the pungent stink of tobacco smoke. Some gentlemen were already lighting up cigars, ordering more brandy.

He flinched when a hand landed on his shoulder and glanced up to see Alexander bending over him.

“Time for billiards, I think,” Alexander murmured. “Come. Henry and I are going now, and I do believe Kat is joining us.”

“Kat? She hates billiards.”

“I do believe she’s been playing it with Timothy. He is discussing poetry and novels with some chap in the corner, so we can let him alone. You are coming, or are you not?”

William hesitated. A good host should stay with the majority of his guests, but really, he didn’t think he could face another few hours talking politely of politics and commerce.

Besides, none of them would notice if he slipped away.

“Surely,” he said at last. “I’m coming.”

***

“Your turn, Kat.”

Katherine grinned unpleasantly, lining up her cue. The billiard balls clicked, bouncing across the green baize, and she managed to pot several at once. The boys groaned aloud.

“You’ve been practising,” Henry said, almost accusingly. “Wait till I get my hands on Timothy. I wager he’ll have taught you all sorts of cheating tricks.”

“Pray, do not be a curmudgeon, Henry, my dear. Merely because I am besting you all does not imply that I am resorting to foul play.”

William chuckled at that, enjoying the surly expressions on his brothers’ faces. He wasn’t entirely sure how Katherine had managed to slip away from the ladies in the drawing room – they were much more alert than the cigar-and-brandy addled gentlemen in the dining room – but slip away she had. And she was in the company of her brothers so no gossip would arise. They had been playing for about twenty minutes now, and William could feel some of the day’s anxiety melting away.

Why couldn’t it always be like this between them?

“The Bainbridges aren’t pleased with you, Will,” Katherine said suddenly, breaking the silence.

William blinked at his sister. “What? Why? What have I done?”

Alexander winced. “You were always so obtuse, Will. No offence.”

“You danced the waltz, of all dances, with Lavinia Brookford , and then you escorted her into the additional light supper right afterwards,” Katherine commented, lifting an eyebrow.

“May I not choose with whom I shall dance, and whom I shall graciously accompany to supper?”

His sister looked at him as if he were a simpleton. “No, of course not. You’re the Duke, and their host but you should have chosen somebody else.”

“Like Miss Bainbridge,” Alexander put in. “They were expecting you to escort her into that additional light supper and were rather offended that it was Miss Brookford.”

William felt an uncharacteristic surge of anger. He took his time in responding, lining up his next shot. The billiard balls clicked. He missed.

“And why,” he said, as coolly as he could manage, “are the Bainbridges’ expectations my responsibility?”

Alexander and Katherine glanced at each other. “Because they believe you’re pursuing Miss Bainbridge. You speak to her at every event, she’s been invited here, you often dance together, and of course you’re a perfect match.” Katherine said, speaking slowly. “The Bainbridges aren’t penniless little fortune-hunters. They have a great deal of power, and they expect all courtesies. If you aren’t pursuing Miss Bainbridge, you ought to make that clear now.”

“I didn’t say that I wasn’t considering her as my duchess,” William muttered. “I wasn’t aware that Society had us married already.”

Lies. It was a lie. Now would be the time to tell his siblings about his agreement with Miss Bainbridge. He willed himself to speak, but it seemed that his lips were sealed closed. Dropping his hand into his pocket, he felt a pang of loss to discover the pocket empty, the silver locket left safely in a drawer on his desk.

Alexander stepped forward to take his turn. “Really, what did you think was going to happen, brother?”

“I for one think that this is shocking,” Henry spoke up. He was perched on the window seat, resting his chin on the top of his billiard cue, face black as thunder. “Why should William be forced into matrimony just because she’s suitable? I’m sure that Miss Bainbridge is a pleasant young woman, and if William likes her, I’ll happily welcome her as my sister-in-law. But it must be his choice. His and hers, and no one else’s.”

“Thank you, Henry. I am glad that someone is on my side.”

Katherine chuckled. “Perhaps if Henry could get off his high horse and take his turn, the game might progress.”

Henry rolled his eyes at that, jumping down from the window seat.

“We have all, indeed, united in matrimony for the sake of love," he remarked, preparing to take his aim. "I never imagined it would come to pass for me, yet here I stand. We three find ourselves exceedingly content, do we not? Why should not William be afforded the same opportunity?

“Because,” Alexander said, leaning forward, “the deadline is only a handful of months away, and the Season is winding down. The pinnacle of the Season has come and gone, and we’ve retreated to Bath. William has to marry this year – and I say he has to marry, because he is the one who has the estate to look after. It’s vital that he marries, and soon. Miss Bainbridge is a suitable choice.”

“I don’t like her,” Henry announced, straightening up. “She’s too conniving for my liking. She knows her worth and the worth of everyone around her and treats them accordingly.”

“And is that a flaw?” Katherine shot back. “Clever women are a rarity in our Society.”

Before he knew what he was doing, William was speaking.

“Miss Brookford is a clever woman.”

His siblings went quiet, glancing at each other and then at him.

“You have a fancy for Miss Brookford, then?” Alexander said carefully. “The older one, not Miss Gillian?”

“Of course the older one,” Katherine huffed. “She was the one he waltzed with and escorted into supper.”

“I don’t have a fancy for anyone,” William shot back. “She was pleasant company. She likes horse riding.”

There was another brief silence. Henry and Alexander shot a meaningful look which William did not like at all.

“I am not courting Miss Brookford,” he said hotly. “I do not intend to court her. It’s a serious decision, choosing the duchess of Dunleigh. Miss Bainbridge is the obvious choice.”

And I have already agreed to marry her.

“That,” Henry remarked contemplatively, "is a most intriguing manner of expressing it.”

William felt the urge to scream in frustration. He was beginning to remember why he and his siblings didn’t spend too much time together these days.

“Do elaborate.”

“You don’t speak of your future bride as your wife, your dearest friend, or even a partner in life. You talk about the next duchess of Dunleigh.”

“What is your point? This is a decision based on logic. I am not falling in love, Henry.”

Henry nodded thoughtfully. “We were all in accord regarding that sentiment.”

William bit his lip. “I’m not like you three.”

There was another silence. More meaningful looks were exchanged, and William began to feel as though he had compromised himself.

“I don’t… I don’t mean that as an insult,” he managed at last, not looking anyone in the eye. “I… I’ve known for a long time that I am not an emotional man. I’m like him, aren’t I? It’s best that I allow logic and reason to dictate my choices. You three had the freedom to choose, but I’m the duke. I cannot simply do what I want. I have people who rely on me, an estate to run, and I need to be serious. Marrying a woman like Miss Bainbridge would be a good choice.”

Katherine pursed her lips. “Explain.”

William shrugged. “She’s clever and efficient. She could handle social matters, run the house and part of the estate well. I could trust her. She’d bring a great deal of money along, allowing us to expand and improve the estate. She knows how to behave as a duchess, she knows what it is expected of her, and frankly, I think we’d work well together.”

“How romantic,” Henry observed, and Alexander gave a hoot of laughter.

“ You can’t talk about romance!” he laughed, shaking his head. “You’re the least romantic person I have ever met.”

“Eleanor thinks otherwise,” Henry shot back, but Alexander was still laughing.

“Eleanor mirrors your disposition perfectly. She is earnest, businesslike, and candid. One might presume she perceives you as a romantic.”

“Ugh. You are quite a simpleton, Kat. Proceed, it is your turn.”

“I daresay I could afford to forgo a turn, truth be told,” Katherine replied with a smirk. “I am currently in the lead.”

They exploded into arguments, laughing and jesting. William said nothing, simply letting the atmosphere wash over him.

For a moment, he could pretend there were no guests at all, only perhaps his mother and his in-laws floating around the house. Just him and his siblings, laughing and jesting with each other, the way the old Duke had hated so much.

Why did he have to separate us so often? William caught himself wondering. Did he believe that loving somebody, even one’s spouse or siblings, was a sign of weakness? Did he think he was making us strong?

William sometimes felt as though he understood his father rather too well. He believed that the answer was yes – the old Duke thought that isolation and hardship would make his children strong, able to withstand the world, able to live up to the exacting standards he thought they should achieve.

Well, he had made them strong, but not in the way he had imagined.

Katherine made her final shot, the winning shot, and leapt up and down in glee, billiard cue held above her head in triumph.

Henry complained loudly, Alexander laughed, and William allowed himself a small smile, etching the scene into his memory.

I love my family.

The moment was swiftly ruined. A light tap on the door made Katherine’s triumphant crows fade away. She came back to herself, shaking out her skirts and putting on the face of a polite, passive lady.

A footman nervously shuffled into the room.

“Your Grace, the gentlemen in the dining room were asking for you.”

William bit back a sigh. “I should join them. Thank you for the game, you three.”

As he left the billiard room, he felt, oddly enough, as though he were leaving a piece of his heart behind.

Dukes can’t care about hearts. Dukes have duty to consider.