Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

P ercy.

For a moment, Alexander didn't breathe. Shock washed over him, quickly followed by a tight, suffocating mix of emotions. Relief flickered for the briefest moment—his brother was alive and well—but it was immediately drowned by anger. The sight of Percy, standing there as though nothing had happened, sent a surge of frustration coursing through him. How dare he show up now? After weeks of silence, after the lies, the scandal, the abandonment.

Elizabeth shifted beside him, sensing the sudden tension. She turned her head, her own surprise evident as she caught sight of Percy, who seemed equally startled to see her there. His eyes darted between them, as if weighing his next words, but Alexander had none of it.

He stood abruptly, the chair scraping the floor as he rose. His body moved stiffly, barely containing the storm that brewed inside him. But when he turned to Elizabeth, his expression softened, though his voice remained tight.

"My dear," he said, bending to kiss her hand, "I must beg your forgiveness. It seems I will have to leave you to dine alone."

Elizabeth, ever composed, gave a small nod, though he could see the question in her eyes. There would be time for explanations later. He turned on his heel, casting a glance toward Percy—one filled with ice.

"Follow me," he said, his voice clipped and unforgiving.

There was a beat of hesitation, a pause in which Alexander wondered if Percy would obey or flee again. But then he heard the soft shuffle of his brother's footsteps behind him, reluctant but present.

Alexander led the way to his study, the familiar walls of the estate doing little to calm the tempest raging within him. Once they entered, the door clicked shut behind them, and Alexander whirled on Percy, unable to contain himself any longer. His brother stood before him, looking—unbelievably—contrite. The sight only fueled Alexander's anger further.

"First," Alexander began, his voice cold and sharp, "you cause a scandal. Then, you deceive me into believing you would fix it. And instead, you abandon the woman you've compromised, flee the country, and leave me to salvage what remains of our family's honor."

He took a step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. "Then, as if that weren't enough, you have the audacity to send me a letter questioning my honorable actions— my actions—when it was you who created this mess to begin with."

His voice rose, his frustration spilling over. "And now, you walk back into my home, sit at my table, and call me ‘brother' as though nothing has happened? What games are you playing, Percy?"

Percy flinched at the venom in his brother's words, but he didn't shrink away. Instead, he met Alexander's gaze, though there was a weariness to him, a heaviness in his posture that hadn't been there before.

"I'm afraid I do not have the answers you seek, brother," Percy said softly, his voice laden with regret.

"Then why are you here?" Alexander demanded, his patience wearing thin. The sight of Percy standing there, looking remorseful but offering nothing more, only served to heighten his frustration.

Percy sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I have come to seek forgiveness."

"Forgiveness?" Alexander barked a laugh, though there was no humor in it. "The person whose forgiveness you must seek is Elizabeth."

"I know." Percy's reply was quiet, but firm. He lifted his head to meet Alexander's eyes, his voice steady despite the guilt that weighed on him. "And I intend to spend the rest of my life seeking her forgiveness, if I must."

The sincerity in Percy's voice gave Alexander pause, but the anger still simmered beneath his surface. He paced, the words swirling in his mind, but he couldn't let go of one thing. "Then why did you run?" he snapped, turning back to face Percy, his brow furrowed. "Why did you abandon her—and me?"

Percy's expression darkened, and for the first time, he looked truly shaken. "I don't know," he muttered, his voice breaking slightly. "I panicked. I was ashamed. I didn't know what else to do."

Alexander's frustration boiled over. "You didn't know what else to do? You could have stayed. You could have done the right thing from the beginning, Percy!"

Percy winced, his head lowering, but he didn't respond immediately. The silence stretched, thick and heavy between them. Finally, Percy spoke, his voice low and broken. "I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to face any of it—Elizabeth, you, or what I'd done."

"And so you thought running away would fix everything?" Alexander's voice was incredulous, the disbelief clear in his tone.

"I thought it would disappear," Percy admitted, the confession hanging in the air between them like a dead weight.

Alexander shook his head, his anger still simmering but tempered now by a deep sense of disappointment. "And did it?" he asked quietly.

"No." Percy's voice was barely above a whisper. "No, it didn't."

They stood in silence, the weight of Percy's actions pressing down on them both. Alexander wanted to rage, to shout, to release the fury that had been building within him for weeks. But as he looked at his brother—his younger brother, the one he had always tried to protect—he saw the guilt and shame written all over Percy's face. It wasn't enough to erase the damage, not by far, but it was something.

"I don't know how to mend this, Alex," Percy said, his voice breaking. "I know I've made a mess of everything. I know I've hurt her. But I want to make it right. I have to."

Alexander stared at him, the conflict raging inside him. On one hand, he wanted to hold onto his anger, to let Percy feel the full weight of his actions. On the other, he couldn't help but see the brokenness in his brother—the same boy who had once looked up to him, trusted him.

"This isn't about what you want, Percy," Alexander said finally, his voice cold but controlled. "You don't just ask for forgiveness and expect it to be given. You've hurt Elizabeth. You've damaged our family's name. You don't get to run from that."

Percy nodded, his shoulders sagging under the weight of Alexander's words. "I know," he whispered. "

"I did not return to argue, Alex. I came back to mend the damage I caused."

Percy's words settled in the room, but they did nothing to douse the fire of anger burning in Alexander's chest. He glanced at his brother, taking in his appearance—the same youthful face, yet worn with a new heaviness that did little to garner his sympathy. Percy stood there, remorseful perhaps, but remorse could not erase the harm already done.

"Then you should never have left in the first place," Alexander replied coldly, his tone sharp as a blade.

Percy flinched, but he stood his ground, nodding as though to absorb the reproach. "I am truly sorry, Alex."

Alexander's response was a stony silence. No words of forgiveness or understanding. His eyes locked with Percy's for a moment, and then he turned away, allowing his brother to exit the study without another word. The door closed with a soft click, leaving Alexander alone in the oppressive quiet.

But the silence did nothing to soothe him. If anything, it left too much space for the emotions to fester and multiply—anger, confusion, frustration—all swirling within him, heavier with each passing second. He had tried to maintain order, to quell the scandal and carry on, and now Percy's return had unraveled all the control Alexander had fought so hard to retain.

What was Percy truly after? And why now, after abandoning everything, did he believe an apology could repair what he had shattered?

With a sigh, Alexander knew he needed a diversion—a conversation with someone who could offer clarity or, at the very least, a distraction. And there was no one better suited for that than Colin Caldwell, the Marquess of Broughton.

Not long after, Colin arrived at the estate, his expression a picture of cheerful ease. As ever, his demeanor was bright, almost jovial, a marked contrast to the storm brewing inside Alexander. Colin entered the study with a smile, immediately making his way to the sideboard where the decanter stood.

"Well, well, Alex," Colin began, his tone light with amusement. "It seems the tides have turned in your favor."

Alexander watched as his friend poured two generous glasses of brandy, handing one to him before taking a seat. Colin raised his glass with a satisfied grin.

"The ton can't seem to stop talking about you and the Duchess. You've become quite the subject of admiration, it appears." He paused to take a sip, clearly savoring the moment. "I hear you and Elizabeth were the talk of the ball, the garden party, and even at the theatre last week. Word is, you were spotted promenading at the park too."

He leaned back in his chair, the smirk never leaving his face. "The Duke and Duchess of Sterlin, so very in love—so the whispers go."

Alexander took a slow drink of his brandy, feeling the warmth spread through his chest but finding little comfort in the words. It was true, their public appearances had been orchestrated to divert attention from the scandal. And it seemed to be working. The whispers had shifted from suspicion to admiration, the speculation about their union growing fainter with each appearance.

But none of that seemed to matter now.

Colin's grin faltered as he noticed the tension in Alexander's face. "What is it, Alex? You look as though you've received the worst news imaginable."

Alexander sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Percy has returned."

Colin blinked, clearly taken aback. "Returned? As in, appeared at your doorstep?"

"At dinner, no less," Alexander muttered, setting his glass down on the table with a clink. "As though he hadn't vanished for weeks."

Colin's eyes widened in disbelief. "What in God's name is he thinking? After all that's happened, to return so brazenly?"

Alexander shook his head, leaning back in his chair, the weight of the situation pressing heavily upon him. "I haven't the faintest idea. He says he wishes to make amends, but how am I to trust anything he says? He fled, Colin. He abandoned me to clean up his mess."

Colin frowned, his usual carefree demeanor slipping as he considered the gravity of the situation. "And what do you intend to do now?"

Alexander exhaled deeply, staring into the amber liquid swirling in his glass. "That is the question, isn't it? I thought I had resolved everything. The scandal was beginning to fade, my marriage to Elizabeth—though not what I expected—was stabilizing. And now, Percy's return has thrown everything into disarray again."

He took another sip, the alcohol doing little to ease the turmoil in his mind. "I was prepared to deal with my anger toward him, but now... seeing him again, seeing the way he looked... it's left me more conflicted than ever."

Colin remained silent, his gaze steady as Alexander spoke.

"There was something in his eyes," Alexander continued, his voice quieter now. "Something... broken. Guilt, certainly, but more than that. It unsettled me."

Colin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Do you believe there's more to his return than mere apologies?"

Alexander met his friend's gaze, the weight of Colin's question hanging between them. He did not have the answer. Not yet.

"You're overthinking this, Alex," Colin said, his tone casual yet full of encouragement, as though the return of a brother who had upended his life was a minor inconvenience. "Percy came back. That has to mean something."

"Does it?" Alexander's voice was flat. He had no desire for empty reassurances. "He left without a word, abandoned his responsibilities. His return does not erase any of that."

"No, it doesn't," Colin agreed, pouring them both another measure of brandy. "But it could be the start of him taking responsibility. Give him a chance to make amends. You know he looks up to you. He always has."

Alexander huffed, setting his glass down on the side table with a little more force than necessary. "If this is how he shows admiration, I would prefer he keep it to himself."

Colin chuckled, shaking his head. "You've always been too hard on yourself—and him. Yes, Percy is reckless, but he came back, didn't he? That has to count for something."

A silence settled between them, Colin's words lingering, though they did little to ease the tight knot of frustration in Alexander's chest. As much as he wanted to believe that Percy's return signaled something good, he couldn't shake the feeling of failure, a failure that extended beyond his brother.

Colin's voice broke the quiet, his tone softening. "And how is Elizabeth with all this? Percy's sudden return must have been quite the shock for her."

Alexander's jaw tightened at the mention of his wife. His thoughts had been so consumed by Percy that he had scarcely allowed himself to dwell on Elizabeth's reaction. "She was... shocked, yes," he replied slowly, his voice low. "And I have no idea what to say to her. I feel as though I have failed her."

Colin frowned, studying his friend carefully. "Failed her? How?"

"By not preventing any of this." Alexander let out a frustrated sigh. "I should have done more. I should have kept Percy in line, stopped him before he could cause this scandal. But I didn't. And now, Elizabeth bears the brunt of it."

"She's your wife, Alex," Colin said, his voice gentle but firm. "She married you knowing full well the situation with Percy. You didn't fail her."

But Alexander shook his head. "I promised her stability, Colin. And what has she received? A marriage born of necessity, endless whispers from the ton, and now, my wayward brother returning to upset it all again."

Colin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at Alexander earnestly. "You're being too harsh on yourself. Elizabeth is stronger than you give her credit for. She's handled everything with grace. She won't hold Percy's actions against you."

Alexander said nothing, but Colin's words echoed in his mind. Elizabeth had indeed been the picture of composure throughout all the chaos, but that only made the guilt gnaw at him more. He had wanted to shield her, to offer her a life free of scandal and turmoil. Instead, he felt as though he had dragged her deeper into it.

Colin stood, crossing the room to refill his glass before glancing back at Alexander. "You mustn't carry all of this on your shoulders. You've done what needed to be done. You saved your family's name, and you've been a husband Elizabeth can count on. Don't let Percy's mistakes make you doubt yourself."

Alexander exhaled, grateful for the drink in his hand but still feeling the weight of his brother's return pressing down on him. Colin's words, though kind, did little to alleviate the sense of inadequacy that had been building inside him.

Before he could respond, a thought struck him. "We're hosting a dinner tomorrow evening," Alexander said, setting his glass down. "Elizabeth's uncle and aunt are to join us. I would be grateful if you would attend."

Colin raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. "A family dinner? With you? I'm not certain I'm the sort of distraction your in-laws would appreciate."

Alexander managed a faint smile. "It would be a welcome relief to have someone who isn't directly involved in all this madness. I doubt I shall be at my best."

Colin laughed, raising his glass in a mock toast. "Very well. I accept your invitation. I'll do my best to lighten the mood."

"Good," Alexander said, nodding in appreciation. "I shall send a note to confirm the time."

Colin leaned back in his chair, the easy smile still on his face, but as Alexander drained the last of his brandy, the unease remained, clinging to him like a shadow.