Page 51 of The Duke’s Scottish Bride (Scottish Duchesses #3)

Chapter Forty-Two

“ S o,” Verity began, her voice stiller than before. “You truly mean what you said to Marion? About… about the control? About me being able to lead my own life?”

Anselm sighed then ran a hand through his hair. He walked to a bench and sat down.

“Every word, Verity. I was a fool. A blind, stubborn fool. Thank you for trying to explain that to me,” he said as he looked up at her.

“And I owe you an apology as well. For years, I have… I have treated you as if you were still a child. As if you were incapable of navigating the world without my constant guidance, my protection.”

“You did. And it was bloody infuriating,” she said as she sat down beside him. “But I always knew it came from a place of love, buried deep in the catacombs of your soul.”

Anselm nodded, his gaze distant and haunted as he placed his hands on his thighs.

“I was just a boy, Verity. But I had to become a man. I had to become the Duke. And I believed the only way to keep us safe, to keep you safe and to raise you well, was to control everything. To never show weakness. To never allow myself to feel… anything that could be taken from me again.”

He took a deep breath. The words tumbled out forming a confession that was years in the making.

“The truth about Mother’s death… it is not as I told you originally. There is more to our family, and this sordid tale.”

“What do you mean, brother?”

“Father suffered from a most tragic illness; they call it a wasting of the mind. At first, he forgot small things, the name of some lord for instance. But as it got worse, and he suffered an unexpected cold, a physician confirmed our worst fears. I began running the duchy quietly, keeping father removed and carefully planning his events.”

“When Mother…well, one day Father was especially cross. Not actually with her, but a product of the wasting of his mind. She sought to calm him and while his mind was weak, he was still impossibly strong. He accidentally caused her injury and took her life.

“I promised myself that I would shelter our family from the weight of what Father had done, so profoundly unknowingly. When he finally passed, I told myself that the secrets would die with him… yet here we are. The ways I survived became the song of my soul. I do not… I do not know how to live a life without control. But I am willing to learn.”

“Anselm… why did you carry all of this on your own? All these years?” Her voice was thick with sorrow. “I understand when I was a child, but I could have helped you now! Do you not realize how much I love you?”

He looked at her through weary eyes.

“It was my duty, Verity. Do you not see it now? My duty as the Duke. My duty as your brother. My damn duty to shield you from the ugliness of this world, our family, and the bloody truth.”

Verity shook her head as tears welled in her eyes. She reached out, closing the small space between them as she took his hand.

“No, Anselm. That is not duty. That is a burden you should never have carried alone. We are family. And family… we must stick together, no matter what. Through the good, the bad, and the downright terrible. We share the burdens. We share the joys. We share the truth .”

Anselm squeezed her hand.

“You are right. You are entirely right. I have been a fool, and I promise you, Verity… I will never shut you out again. Never. We will face everything together. You are a tremendous young woman, and I cannot wait to see the wonders you will share with this world.”

Verity’s grip tightened.

“And I promise, Anselm, to be more open with you as well. To trust you with my fears, and my triumphs. Even my literary pursuits, much as they seem frivolous to you.”

A small, watery smile touched her lips. Anselm chuckled, a genuine, warm sound that filled the space around them.

“Indeed. Though perhaps we can agree to keep the more scandalous passages to ourselves. There are some things as your brother that I just do not care to read.”

Verity laughed as she fought to catch her breath. Anselm did not realize how much he had missed her laugh or enjoyed being the one to cause it.

“Agreed,” she said.

“But I will say this,” he added, his voice lower, more sincere.

“You may not have intended it, but your words stirred something in me.” He paused, as if weighing how much to reveal.

“It was your story that reminded me… how easy it is to lose something precious through pride and stubbornness. It made me realize I still had a chance to repair what I’d nearly ruined with Marion. ”

Verity’s eyes widened, her amusement giving way to quiet wonder.

“I never thought my ridiculous scribblings would inspire anyone. Least of all you,” she said, her voice soft.

He gave her a small, wry smile. “Life is stranger than fiction, little sister.”