Chapter Three

Ten Days Later

Rosewood House had always been Mary Willenshire’s domain. The Dowager Duchess, everybody knew, had exercised very little authority. She had no control over her children, from whom her husband had distanced her very neatly, and certainly none over her husband.

William had not been thrilled at the prospect of a house party at Rosewood House, but it made Mary happy, and he was not going to be the one to let her down. It was a rare thing to see his mother so happy.

The house was full of excitement, and people . When William stepped into the drawing room that evening, intending to read quietly before the fire, he found the room full of his siblings.

It said something about Katherine, Alexander, and Henry that the three of them could make a room feel full regardless of its size.

“There he is!” Katherine laughed, stretched out on an armchair before the fire, feet propped up on a footstool. Her husband, the studious Timothy, sat beside her, their hands entangled.

Henry and Eleanor, both always submerged in running their china business, were bent over a pile of papers and sketches on the table, and barely glanced up at him. Alexander was bouncing about the room, doing something to make his siblings laugh, and his quiet wife, Abigail, watched him with fond amusement.

“Good evening to you all,” William said, smiling warmly at each of them. Why did it feel so odd to be with his family again? Perhaps it was because they were all paired off, deeply in love, newly rich, and entirely content with their lives.

And he was… well. He was himself. He was none of those things.

“Welcome William! Would you like some tea?” his mother said, leaning forward to pour him a cup. “I’m so glad we were able to go ahead with our usual house gathering this year. It didn’t feel right last year, not with your dear father so newly gone.”

There was a taut silence, and the siblings glanced at each other.

The late Duke of Dunleigh, father to William, Henry, Katherine, and Alexander, was not mourned at all by his children. He had been a vicious man with exacting standards, and William, as his heir, had borne the brunt of his ‘training’. Not one of them had escaped unscathed though.

It was as if the air had gotten thicker. William cleared his throat.

“Well, we’re having it this year.”

“I’ve invited a great many new people,” Mary continued, oblivious to the atmosphere. “There was a charming woman I met at Lady Clarissa’s party, with the most delightful daughter. You might meet her, William. The daughter, I mean. She’s nineteen, but this is her first year out. Remarkably pretty, and so sweet. I shall introduce you. I can’t quite recall her name. G-something, I believe.”

“Thank you, Mother,” William responded, taking a gulp of his tea, even though it was still scalding. “Anyone else I should know about?”

“Yes, actually,” Mary glanced uneasily around. “I invited Miss Bainbridge and her parents.”

William bit the inside of his cheek. “Oh?”

“Yes, they’ll arrive with the rest of the guests in three days or so.”

“She’s made quite a determined set at you, Will,” Katherine observed, eyeing her brother intently. “You could do worse.”

William smiled tightly. “I’m sure I could. Excuse me for just a moment, I’m going to step out onto the balcony. I need some air.”

Nobody objected, and as he turned his back on the happy party, he heard laughter break out at something Alexander had said or done.

William shouldered open the double doors at the opposite end of the drawing room and stepped out onto the small balcony. The air was cool, which was surprising for July, and he breathed it in deeply. The sky was clear, and stars were peeping out one by one over the ridged roofs and whitewashed walls of Bath. It was as if the whole city had been preparing especially for the moonlight, to glow and shine.

He had been there only for a few minutes when he heard a footstep behind him.

“What is it, Kat?” he asked, not turning around.

His sister chuckled, coming to rest her elbows on the wall beside him. “How did you know it was me?”

William shrugged. “Process of elimination. Henry is too engrossed in his work, Alexander is not speaking to me, Mother isn’t likely to notice, and it’s not as if any of my in-laws would notice anything was amiss.”

Katherine pursed her lips. “Why is Alexander not speaking to you?”

William pushed a hand through his hair, the dark chestnut locks all of the Willenshire siblings had, with matching olive skin and hazel eyes. William’s eyes, however, were shaped more like his father’s. Another similarity he would rather do without.

“Oh, it is not so dire as all that. We did manage a modicum of reconciliation prior to his nuptials, but… alas, it was merely between him and myself after Henry and you departed. And Mother, of course, though she naturally exacerbated the situation. Words were exchanged—words which apologies cannot entirely mitigate.”

Katherine frowned. “What sort of words?”

“I’m sure you can imagine. I was not particularly helpful when Alexander was endeavouring to curb his intemperance, and, of course, he was infatuated with Abigail and not in full possession of his faculties. I was rather unkind and unforgiving, I believe. And he said… he said I was just like him .”

He heard Katherine suck in a breath. No need to explain who he was.

“You are nothing like Father,” she said stoutly. “I can promise you that.”

William smiled thinly. “What if I am, though?”

“You are not .”

“Do you know what it is to feel like a stranger within the very bounds of your own family?

“Yes,” she answered immediately. “I do. Do you not remember? Father thought that ladies ought to be educated separately and kept apart from the men. From the age of thirteen to about seventeen, I exclusively spent my days with Mother. I barely saw you all. It was awful.”

“I forgot about that.”

“I never can,” she muttered. “You aren’t like him, William. You aren’t cruel enough.”

“He can’t have started off that way, though. Can he?”

Katherine was silent for a moment. In the end, William broke the silence first.

“I kept the horse, you know.”

She blinked at him. “Horse?”

“The horse that killed him.”

There was more silence.

“Oh,” Katherine managed at last.

William stared out at the star-studded sky, half speaking to himself.

“I’m sure you remember that day. Father wanted me to ride an unbroken horse and threw insults at me when I wouldn’t do it. He denounced me as a craven, a weakling, the disgrace of his existence, and so forth. He proclaimed that I was no true gentleman. He brought all of you out to witness my humiliation and climbed on the horse himself to make a point.”

“I remember,” Katherine said, voice hushed. “The horse threw him. It was a dangerous creature, and you knew it.”

“I didn’t know it. The thing is, Katherine, I truly was just afraid of the creature. I haven’t ridden since.”

She reached out and took his hand. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. And I’m glad you kept the horse – it wasn’t the horse’s fault. I imagine Father spent a good deal of time kicking it and whipping it, trying to get it to behave the way he thought it should. I’m surprised the creature didn’t try to attack him before.”

There was a short, comfortable silence between them. William felt some of his anxiety draining away.

Some, not all.

“You really don’t think I’m like him?” he said, after a pause.

Katherine squeezed his hand. “No, I don’t. And deep down, neither does Alex.”

“I think… I believe Mother perceives me as a reflection of him. She has expressed this belief on more than one occasion. It is perhaps the reason for her disdain towards me, despite her fervent affection for Father. She foresees what I am destined to become.”

Katherine grabbed his shoulders, turning him to face her.

“Stop this, Will. Stop it right now. I won’t watch you slip into melancholy, thinking that your future is all preordained for you. It is not. You are your own man. Perhaps we all have some of Father’s traits, but it is up to us to become our own people and make our own choices. If we choose to be cruel, or cold, or miserly, then we only have ourselves to blame. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” William said, smiling wryly.

“Excellent. Now, let us discuss the soiree at the house. I, for one, am quite elated.”

“I lament that I cannot share in such delight.”

Katherine shot him a sideways glance. “You’ll see Miss Bainbridge. I saw something of her in London while you were away, you know. I quite like her, I think. She’d make a fine duchess. She doesn’t worry herself with love or courtship, she only thinks of logic and good decisions. I think she would suit you.”

“She thinks so, too,” William remarked, and Katherine’s eyes widened.

“She spoke to you about it?”

“Not in so many words. She’s very forward, Kat.”

“That’s a good thing, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps. I like ladies to be forthright, but unfortunately, Society does not feel the same.”

There was a short pause after that. William shifted his weight, trying not to think of the owner of the locket. That woman had preyed on his mind for longer than she should. Even now, he held the locket in his pocket, its smooth, oval surface gradually warming beneath his fingers. He knew he should return it. And yet, he kept it.

Her face popped into his mind. How had he managed to recall her in such detail? They’d exchanged only one conversation, and on a dark balcony too. She couldn’t be a very genteel lady, to chat with a man under such circumstances, so freely.

And yet, and yet.

Stop it, he warned himself. She’s not suitable for you. Stop thinking about it. She won’t think about you, I guarantee it.

“Well, it’s up to you,” Katherine said with finality, cutting into his thoughts. “I like Miss Bainbridge. For what it’s worth, she’s exactly the sort of girl Papa would approve of, not that that is much of a recommendation. I think she’d suit you, and perhaps you’ll fall in love after you are married.”

“Is that what you did?” William asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Fell in love after you were married?”

Katherine blushed, and William bit back a smile.

The terms of their father’s will had been particularly cruel to Katherine. He had always made it clear that she was not what he wanted his daughter to be and had exerted almost as much effort to break her as he had William. Katherine, however, had a strong character, and had not bent to his will by the time the late Duke met his accident.

Not like me, William thought, with a flush of shame. I gave in early on.

Katherine was subject to the same requirements as her brother – to marry within a year or live as a pauper forever. However, there was an extra stipulation in her case. She had to marry first , and if she did not marry, none of her brothers could receive their inheritance.

With the weight of not just her future, but that of her three brothers weighing on her shoulders, Katherine had attacked the marriage mart with desperation, keen to find a match.

She hadn’t looked for love, but she had found it. Timothy was their childhood friend, at one time inseparable from William, and wrote popular novels under a pseudonym. He still did, as far as William knew, despite their newfound wealth. He had loved her for years, in secret, and the two of them were perfectly matched.

In fact, all of William’s siblings had found their perfect matches. Henry had found a woman to match his intellect and ambition, while Alexander had found a practical, kind young woman who could temper his excesses and help him to become a better man. All of them were in love, and William heartily approved of all of their matches.

His own match, however, was somewhat lacking.

“Falling in love isn’t important to me,” he said aloud, gaze fixed out on the horizon. “I think Miss Bainbridge will be the best choice for me. She has no expectations of me, and I believe we will enhance each other’s lives to a reasonable degree.”

“Well, that’s a very logical way of looking at it,” Katherine said, sounding vaguely disappointed. “Are you going to ask her during the party?”

William bit his lip. “I don’t know. Perhaps. I suppose I shall see how the days develop. This will be a good opportunity for us to spend time together and decide whether or not we are well suited.”

“The stuff novels are made of,” Katherine commented, smiling wryly. “I wish you could fall in love with someone, brother.”

“It is not practical. I cannot afford not to marry. And I do mean that in the literal sense, Kat. This estate will sink if I cannot put some money into it, and of course I cannot get to my money until I walk down the aisle.”

She huffed. “Father tied us up neatly, did he not?”

There was another short silence, until William spoke again, a trifle uncertainly.

“Did… did you receive a letter from Father on your wedding day? Brought by the solicitor, written when he wrote up the will?”

Katherine clenched her jaw. “I did.”

“What did it say? If… if you don’t mind telling me, of course.”

Katherine sighed, shaking her head. “It was… it was odd. Almost fond. Almost . He said that he had always thought that Timothy would be a good match for me, and that shook me somewhat. How could a man I despised all of my life have known me quite so well? It was the sort of letter I could imagine him writing. Henry and Alexander got one, naturally. I believe he told Alex that he was a disappointment.”

“That sounds like Father,” William grunted. Behind them, the sound of pianoforte music drifted out into the night. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw that Alexander and Abigail were playing a duet. They were laughing, pushing at each other’s shoulders, playing wrong notes and giggling.

Something throbbed in William’s chest, something decidedly resembling jealousy. He resolutely turned his gaze away.

That kind of life is not for you, he reminded himself. Dukes do not marry to please themselves.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Katherine said, jerking him out of his thoughts. “What in the world happened to that silver locket you found, at Lady Clarissa’s party? It was months ago, I know, but you were so very taken with it. Did you keep it?”

William bridled. “I did not keep it . I have been trying to return it to its rightful owner.”

Katherine shot him a quick, intent glance. “Did you find its owner?”

He pointedly did not meet her eye. He was tempted to tell his sister to mind her own business, but that would be quite rude. Besides, then she would know that he had something to hide. The necklace seemed to weigh heavy in his pocket, accusing him.

“I did,” he answered carelessly. “Apparently, she did try to find her locket, so I daresay she’ll be glad to have it returned.”

“Ah, well done. Are you going to send it to her, then?”

“I shall return it to her as soon as I can.”

And then this will all be over. She’ll be glad to get the locket back, and will think no more of the strange duke who kept it for all those months instead of simply giving it to a lady-friend. The duke who tracked her down like a man deranged, the duke who is turning into to a cold, cruel madman just like his father.

William cleared his throat, straightening up from where he rested his elbows on the wall.

“I suppose we ought to go back in. I think I’ll have another cup of that tea.”

Carefully avoiding his sister’s incisive gaze, he turned and hurried inside.