Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

A week later, Ian lay awake in bed, watching Charlotte sleep. The flickering candlelight danced across her skin as her blonde hair cascaded around her and over her bare shoulder. The sheets smelled of apples and roses, like a warm spring day.

He smiled to himself, overwhelmed at how content he was to see her so at peace. He would do anything to hold on to this feeling, to protect her from the rest of London.

To love her.

Slowly, he rolled off the bed and paused as she stirred, searching for him along the mattress. Ian moved the pillow to his spot. “I’ll be right back, Lottie,” he whispered.

She made a soft sigh before slipping back into sleep.

He drew his dressing gown tight as he strode out into the dark hallway, glancing at the clock. At nearly one in the morning, he should be asleep, but he had left too much unsaid between himself and Nathaniel. First, he made a quick trip to the kitchen before striding into the library.

“Good, you’re up,” Ian announced.

Nathaniel sat propped on the sofa, hugging a pillow to his middle, his head resting in his hand as he stared at the fireplace .

“What else would I be doing?”

Ian glanced around, breathing a sigh of relief when he noticed there were no empty glasses or bottles. “Would you like something to eat?” He held up a handkerchief stuffed with scones he had grabbed from the kitchen.

His brother shrugged, then groaned.

“Are you still uncomfortable? I can ring?—”

“Stop fussing over me, Ian. Christ, I never knew you cared about me so much.”

“Of course.” He stopped himself, shaking his head before tearing his gaze away to stare at the carpet. “I am trying if you will allow it.”

Nathaniel scratched his temple as though weary. “I will be on my way soon enough. I don’t wish to impose on you and Lottie any longer.”

Ian sank down on the sofa next to his brother and shoved the scones in Nathaniel’s direction. “You’re not a bother.”

His brother glanced sideways before reluctantly grabbing a scone and taking a nibble. “Why are you up?”

What was the point in lying? He settled for the truth. Since Charlotte’s accident, he hardly slept through the night, always worried something was about to go worse, even when matters were much improved between them. “Can’t sleep.”

“Not sure why. Lottie…”

“Don’t finish that thought,” he grunted. Ian grabbed a scone himself and took a big bite before sitting back on the sofa. “I love her. You know that. But something has been bothering me.”

“I feel a lecture coming on.”

“No, no lecture. It’s only… I need you to find some direction.”

His brother scoffed. “Direction? You’re the damn duke. You lead, and I hang in the shadows.”

“I hardly call getting stabbed at a brothel in the West End hanging in the shadows. Or the gambling debts, the racing, and subsequent accidents. Certainly not the drinking.”

“If it had been reversed, and you saw someone go after Charlotte, would you have stood by and allowed it to happen? ”

“I’d burn down London.”

Nathaniel shrugged. “Well, that would work, too, I guess.”

Ian shook his head, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “I know what you are asking. If it had been Charlotte in Arabella’s place, I would have taken her place. I would have taken a knife, a bullet, been knocked senseless if it meant she would remain unharmed. And then I would have seen that they couldn’t touch anyone else again when I came to.”

Nathaniel chuckled. “I knew you were grumpy, but I had no idea you could be so grim.”

“Time,” Ian said, pushing past the knot of regret lodged in his throat. “I’ve wasted a lot of it. Foolish maybe, but there was this green velvet armchair next to Mother’s bed before she died. I hated it.” He shuddered. “It took me sitting there the last few weeks, slowly saying goodbye, to realize it’s not infinite.”

“I will be fine.”

“From being stabbed? Sure, you will recover. You’re lucky on that count. But what’s next? Is Monty going to come knocking on my door, or will I receive a letter that you’ve been found dead in a gutter?” He sighed. “Listen, I saw Blackwell recently, and it’s like I sat across from a ghost. The man might be here, but he’s given up a long time ago.” Ian turned to his brother, meeting his defeated stare. “I don’t want the same to happen to you.”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters, Nate. You matter.”

Nate shoved aside his scone and frowned. “Suddenly you want me around?”

“I realize I haven’t been the best at telling anyone I want them around. I’m trying now to fix that. Do you love her?”

Nathaniel swallowed hard and shut his eyes. “She is gorgeous and so damn perfect. So witty and I swear she demands everyone’s attention the moment she walks into a room. But she has landed herself in trouble, and I can’t get out of my own way, and I think I failed her. That’s all to say, yes, I love her. ”

“Good, because I hope that will help you understand. You will inherit the title.”

“Me?” he scoffed. “You told me you returned because you needed an heir.”

“I have one. That’s you. Or it will be if you would stop trying to off yourself between the port and the racing. Now knives are involved, and I think it’s getting out of hand.”

“That’s because of all the women,” Nathaniel added.

The quip fell flat, filling the silence between them for a moment.

“I love Charlotte, enough if you would believe, to burn down the rest of London for her. I am back for her, to win her heart. And I cannot do that if I am solely here in need of an heir. I need her to understand that I want her above all else, even if that means the title falls to you one day.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m asking you to reconsider. I’m asking you to turn everything around and be a man worthy of the title because I know you are. I know you’ve lost your way a bit, but it’s only because that happened to me as well. No more drinking, no gambling, no more racing.”

“You want the title to go to me?”

“I want children.” His voice trembled, realizing how much he would give up. “But I need Charlotte to understand how much I love her more. I can’t lose her again. And I won’t let the opinions of others interfere any longer.”

“That’s noble of you.”

No, not noble. It was selfish, but he wasn’t above admitting he wanted her and would do whatever necessary to see her happy.

“Nate, you have to stop hurting yourself. No more drinking. Start there. We can handle the rest together.”

His brother’s jaw ticked as he glared at the fireplace. “I don’t know if she’ll trust me any longer. I’m scared.”

Ian stood, gathering the handkerchief and folding it up into his pocket. “I know. But do you remember what Lottie told you? You’re family. We’re here?—”

“I am in love with a courtesan, Ian. You make it all sound so easy. Am I to leave here a cured man and move on from Arabella? Because I am telling you now…”

“No. I want to be able to trust you.”

“I will marry Arabella. Watch.” He groaned, shaking his hand. “I can’t stop shaking! Give me a damn drink,” he roared.

Ian remained still.

“Are you telling me you are encouraging me—your heir—to pursue a relationship with someone the ton will admonish? You? The very duke who was so embarrassed by his Honey Duchess that he fled to the Continent.”

“I returned.” Ian sighed, then raked his hand through his hair. “Listen, I will support you in marrying Arabella or whomever you find yourself in love with because I wish for you to be happy. Sincerely. I have a chance at that same happiness now with Charlotte. I would be a hypocrite in denying you that.”

“Find me a drink, Ian. I’m begging you.”

Ian reached for his brother’s hand and held it in his own, swallowing past the panic in his chest. “You have the same chance. Do you understand? Do you see that, Nate?”

His brother shrugged before he turned and nearly cast up his accounts.

“Very well. I will ring for some tea?—”

“I don’t want any damn tea unless you mean whiskey or port or gin or brandy. Hell, sherry would be fine.”

“Tea,” Ian said again firmly. “Come sit with me.” He walked behind the sofa while Nathaniel glared at him, then sat at the small table, and grabbed the deck of cards. “This will pass. Until then, I’ll stay.”

“That’s novel of you.”

Ian glanced up, biting back his comments. “You are unwell right now.”

“I didn’t need a surgeon to suggest that.”

“Well, a knife to your gut surely didn’t help either.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes, then slowly stood, approaching the table as though he might throw himself at Ian. He leaned forward, resting his knuckles on the table. “This… happiness, I mean, loving Charlotte. Is it worth it?”

Ian’s chest ached as his mind scrambled to reconcile the sight of his brother bruised and bloody, trembling after not having a drink, with the relentless hope in his hazel eyes.

“It’s everything, Brother. She’s the air in my lungs I need to breathe. The reason I am sitting here now, begging you to return to us, asking you to live and find love yourself. You will never recover from the fall, but I promise it will be the sweetest torture to love someone completely. Terrifying at how little you control, then consuming you at the same time. To be seen? To find someone who you can share your truest self with? It’s everything.”

Nathaniel pushed up to stand fully before sinking down opposite of Ian. He tapped two fingers on the table. “Deal me in, please.”