Page 15 of The Earl’s Tempting Ward (Dukes Gone Dirty #2)

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B enedict’s heart was still heavy two days later on Philippa’s behalf.

Her story had shifted his whole world. He’d come to care for her—how and when he wasn’t certain, but he’d known it when he’d taken her into his arms that night after she’d bared her heart and soul. He understood then that even if their circumstances were different… Even if they hadn’t been intimate and she wasn’t living under his roof….

He’d still want her for his wife.

He’d always want her.

She belonged with him.

“Will Philippa be joining us?” His mother’s voice was cold as always, formal as she faced him over the dining room table.

“I do not know.” He hated having to say it. But he’d given Philippa the space she so clearly needed these past two days, respecting the fact that she needed time to herself after the emotional upheaval of her confession.

“She did not join us last night,” his mother mused, her tone toxic. “I hope she has not taken ill.”

His hands tightened into fists as the servants brought out the first course. His mother had decided to take her meals with him since their arrival in town, likely because the townhouse wasn’t as spacious as the country estate and to avoid one another here would be difficult.

“I’m sure she is fine, Mother,” he said.

Another silence fell as the servants left, only a footman waiting next to the door should they need him.

Benedict wasn’t at all sure she was fine, but he had no idea what else to do for her. He’d attempted to draw her out of her rooms, offering to escort her through the park and inviting her to join him for meals, but she’d quietly and politely refused him.

He scowled down at his meal now. He didn’t like a quiet and polite Philippa. That wasn’t her nature. He missed her teasing and her impulsive, outrageous comments. He missed her laughter when she’d goaded him into a growl.

Hell, he missed her.

He stared at the door like she might suddenly materialize.

“Her mother did say she was spoiled,” his mother said with a little tsk of judgment. “I suppose she’s pouting because we have not thrown a proper engagement party yet.”

Benedict stared at his mother for a long moment. His bride-to-be was suffering right now and his mother thought she was pouting?

His mother arched a brow as she glanced up at him. “Or perhaps she’s moping because you’ve forced her into being a countess?” She sniffed. “I can think of worse fates for a foreign girl with no connections to speak of.”

He shook his head in disgust at the assumptions she was making, the aspersions she was casting. “You do not know of what you speak.”

“Don’t I?” She gave a humorless laugh. “I saw the way you two have been looking at one another since the moment she arrived. I’d say I pity the girl for having caught your fancy, but I daresay she was just as smitten.”

He clenched his jaw and looked down at his food. He didn’t need a mirror nearby to know what he looked like. He could feel the taut pull of his disfigured skin. “We both know that’s not true.”

His mother’s soft snort of disdainful amusement had him glancing up. She reached for her wine glass. “Don’t tell me you were so caught up in self-pity you did not notice.” She narrowed her eyes and studied him critically. “Those scars might have marred your handsome features but I daresay there are women out there who are drawn to the dark and the ugly.”

His hand stilled as he reached for a glass of his own. “Thank you, Mother. As always, your words of wisdom are a comfort to us all.”

“Oh, don’t be droll,” she snapped. “I only speak the truth.”

But she hadn’t said whatever it was she wished to say, this much he knew from experience. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, dipping his chin to level her with an even stare. “Go on then. Say whatever it is you want to say.”

For a moment she just stared. But then her lips quivered and her nostrils flared. “How is it just that you get the happy ending? After all the tragedy you’ve caused, and here you sit, the lord of his castle with a sweet, beautiful bride and all the power and wealth he could ask for.”

The words spewed out of her mouth. “You don’t deserve a wife and children, the family your brother ought to have.”

When he made no move to defend himself, when he merely sat there and listened, it went on and on until he was sure he could see her exhaustion.

Heavy as his heart was to hear her vengeful, angry, spiteful words, he understood that exhaustion. It was tiring to carry that sort of anger around.

“You never wanted this,” she said, gesturing around them.

And she was right. He never had. This was his brother’s life he was living, and he well knew it. All he’d wanted was the independence that came with being the younger son.

“You’re right,” he said when it became clear that she was done. “I never wanted this life and Lord knows I don’t deserve it. If there was any way I could bring them back, I would.” He met his mother’s gaze evenly. So much had been made clear to him as he’d listened to Phillippa’s heartache and anguish.

“Mother, if I could trade my life for theirs, I would.”

Her lips trembled again, but this time not with anger.

“But I cannot.” He gave a helpless shrug. “And this is my life, whether either of us likes it or not.”

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their breathing.

“Mother…” He cleared his throat. He’d never said it. He’d never said the words she needed to hear. The words he had to say. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not enough,” she hissed, but there were tears in her eyes as well as anger.

“I know it’s not enough, but it still needs to be said.” He swallowed hard. “I am sorry for the mistakes I made that led to their deaths. I’m sorry for every harsh word I ever said to either of them, for every drink I had that night that left me useless when my family needed me most. I’m sorry for Francesca?—”

“Do not say her name,” his mother shouted.

“I’m sorry I brought her into our home. I’m sorry for all of it, Mother. But it’s time we stop avoiding the conversation. We can’t keep pretending it never happened?—”

“I’m not?—”

“You hate me for it,” he continued. “And I understand that.”

She didn’t deny it.

“I hate myself for all that happened,” he said. Another long silence passed as they both sat with their thoughts. He didn’t know where his mother’s mind went, but his thoughts were with Philippa. Right now, he ached to be at her side.

She was pushing him away, and he couldn’t let that continue.

He’d given her space, but now it was time. It was time for them both to forgive their pasts and move forward.

“I’m about to start a new life, Mother,” he said. “With Philippa. And I hope with you as well.”

Her brows arched slightly in surprise.

“I hope you will be a part of our lives, because I mean to move forward. I mean to make of this earldom what father would have wanted. My brother too.”

She pressed her lips together with a sniff.

“Philippa is a good woman. I know you do not approve the match, and maybe you don’t approve of her?—”

“Nonsense,” she snapped. “I love that girl. She reminds me of her mother.”

“Does she?” He thought back to what Philippa said. “Does she know that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He cleared his throat. This was not a conversation for him to be having with his mother. “I mean, I think she could use your help, Mother. She will definitely need your guidance, and if you could manage to let go of some of your hatred and your anger—not at me,” he added quickly when she stiffened. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. But if you could put aside your anger long enough to show her love, maybe you and I can both find a way to move forward.”

She stared down at her food but made no move to eat. When he thought she would never respond at all, she finally spoke. “I do not hate you, Benedict.”

His heart clenched but he didn’t dare speak.

“You are my child, I could never hate you. I’m just…I’ve just been so angry.” Her voice shook and he reached across the table to touch her hand.

“I know.”

She lifted her gaze and he saw a world of pain in her eyes. “I’m still so angry.”

He nodded. He knew that too.

“But you are right,” she continued, her voice returning to normal. “We owe it to them both to make this family whole again.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

After dinner, he headed up to Philippa’s room. He understood her need to grieve alone, but he’d meant what he’d said. This was their chance—it was a chance for all of them to move forward. To forgive and to heal.

He knocked on her door and let himself in when there was no answer.

Philippa was stretched out on her bed, just as she had been the last time he’d checked on her. He sat beside her and touched her hand. “Have you had any food?”

“I’m not hungry.”

He itched to argue. Part of him wondered if barking commands would work at a time like this…but he didn’t think so.

She’d never admit it aloud, but his wife-to-be needed tenderness now. He laid down beside her on his side, resting a hand on her belly. “You cannot stay in here forever, you know.”

Her smile was small and sad. “I know. I just…” She shook her head. “Saying it all aloud like that…”

He nodded. “No one else knows.”

She shook her head even though it wasn’t a question. He leaned forward and kissed her temple. He had a feeling that was the hardest part for her.

He’d had his mother’s wrath, the whispers of the ton , not to mention the horrid scars he’d faced every day in the mirror. He’d been cast into hell after the accident, and had been hated and spurned for his sins.

She’d had nothing but sympathy and kindness, and he imagined that had only made her guilt and shame fester and grow.

No wonder she’d turned to him for punishment.

He winced at the thought, but he did not judge her for it.

She’d seen him as the devil she deserved. And now here she was, trapped in his prison.

He swallowed hard and shoved the thought away as he rested a hand on her belly while the other toyed with her long locks. The time for anger and blame was over now.

He just had to make her see that.

“We could be happy, you know.”

For a second he wasn’t sure if she’d heard. But then, as she blinked up at the ceiling, he caught the tear that slid down her cheek. “Do you really think so?” she whispered.

He kissed her softly. “I do. I think we’ve all made mistakes. You, me, even my mother, and most definitely your parents.”

She shot him a glare that he ignored. But truly, if they’d survived that carriage incident he would have murdered her father himself for taking a hand to her. For convincing her she was anything less than perfect.

He caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “We can be happy. No one is asking you to forget, but it’s time we all move on, love. Can you do that for me? For us?”

She blinked at him as if her gaze was just now taking him in. “I’m so tired, Benedict.”

He nodded, lying down beside her once more. “I know, love. Get some rest.”

She turned her head and they were so close their noses touched.

He stroked her cheek. “Rest tonight, and take some time to put your memories where they belong. In the past. And tomorrow you will rejoin the living.”

Her lips quirked up at the corners, a pale imitation of her brilliant smile. “The masquerade?”

“Mmm. Evangeline will be there and she’ll never forgive me if I don’t bring you along.”

She laughed softly. “She seems sweet.”

He nodded. “And I think she’s rather desperate to make a friend of you. She doesn’t have any young lady friends among the ton .”

Philippa’s gaze took him in and her lips curved up a little more. Her voice was light, if a little forced. “Then I suppose I’d better attend. I could use a friend myself.”

He saw the sadness still in her eyes, heard the strain in her tone. But he grinned as he pressed another kiss to her lips.

She might not be healed yet, but it was a start.

Tomorrow marked a new beginning for all of them.