Epilogue
ONE WEEK LATER
Caerleon Manor, Berkshire
Gideon walked at Aaron’s side through the long corridor of portraits, his boots quiet upon the runner. His brother’s shoulders were taut, gait uneven, though no cane was needed now. The walls, lined with stern faces of Dukes past, seemed to close in with each stride.
Gideon stole a glance at him.
“You are not overawed by it, are you?” he asked lightly, though a tension lay beneath his words.
The merest flicker of jealousy might rekindle the old rivalry.
Aaron did not answer at once. His face was pale. His gaze flicked to one portrait, then another, until his lips pressed into a hard line. He faltered. Then stopped suddenly, staring at the painted eyes of their grandfather glaring down from a gilded frame.
Gideon had ensured there were no portraits of their father anywhere in the house.
Aaron’s breath came ragged, his voice hoarse.
“I cannot…” he muttered, “I cannot breathe in here.”
Gideon frowned. “Brother…”
“The walls press upon me. Do you not feel it? This house is a tomb.” His eyes darted like a trapped animal’s. “I lived in terror here. Of him. Of you.”
“So did I,” Gideon assuaged, careful to keep any hint of confrontation out of his voice.
I will not reignite an old duel. I will have my brother back. As we were before Father decided to make us fight for his approval.
He caught his brother by the arm and half-led, half-supported him down the grand staircase, out through the open doors, and onto the gravel sweep before the house.
The air outside was clear, the sky vast. Aaron bent double, bracing his hands on his knees until the panic began to ebb.
Gideon turned sharply to McKay, who had appeared soundlessly at the door.
“Tea, please, Mr. McKay,” he ordered.
A look passed between master and butler. McKay’s expression was wary, testing, but Gideon’s steady gaze held no arrogance, no demand, only respect. The smallest inclination of McKay’s head answered him. Whatever rift had once stood between them, it was quietly set aside.
I have no appetite to train a new butler to my ways. I do not think McKay is a traitor—his loyalties lay to his correct master. Perhaps I can win them over to me.
When tea was brought, Aaron refused to look back at the house. He sat in one of the garden chairs, staring out at the trees instead. Catherine and Meredith had been promenading in the gardens, and they joined the two men.
“All I see in those walls are ghosts,” Aaron said at last. “The shadow of a father who demanded strength until we broke ourselves to please him. I will not live there.”
“I will not send you back to that ramshackle hut in which you had been living,” Gideon said, “I would like to get to know my brother.”
“As would I. But not here,” Aaron shuddered, “I do not know how I ever thought I would be able to assume the Dukedom. I did not appreciate the weight of all those memories.”
Meredith took his hand, and he smiled up at her. Some of the tension slipped from his face in her presence.
Gideon glanced at Catherine, who watched the pair with compassion and empathy in her face.
She met his eyes. Her gaze was steady and unflinching.
She didn’t look away. A blush rose in her cheeks, yet her chin lifted, proud, unashamed.
He felt she could see him entirely, all shadows stripped bare. He welcomed it.
“There is another house which is part of the Dukedom but not on the estate. It is within a half day’s walk or an hour’s ride,” Gideon began.
“You mean the lodge?” Catherine asked.
Gideon nodded, studying her face for a reaction, knowing that the place held difficult memories for her.
“It stands empty,” he continued.
She nodded. “Though it needs some care and attention. If you are up to the challenge,” she offered, directing her question to Aaron and Meredith.
“The Caerleon household will all pitch in,” Gideon nodded, “as will we. It could be a home, and it has no unpleasant associations. I did not even know it existed as a boy.”
“Neither did I,” Aaron murmured, wonderingly. “Yes. I would like to remain close by, but not be forced to see… that.”
He glanced at Caerleon for a moment before looking away, closing his eyes.
Gideon also looked. He saw the darkness in the house, kept alive by the darker memories.
But he also saw its potential. Saw the light that Catherine would bring.
The happiness that would crowd out the bad memories, replacing them.
He could bear the weight of those bad memories while that happened.
Meredith’s eyes shone with gratitude. “That would suit us well.”
Aaron cleared his throat. “And Stafford? I bitterly regret allying myself with that man. I was so consumed with the need to…”
Gideon put a hand on his brother’s arm.
“You need not justify yourself, brother. Not to me. I have written to Sir Obadiah. He will learn the truth, that Stafford extorted those papers with a threat to Catherine. If Sir Obadiah chooses to keep him as a partner, I will honor the contract. If he casts him off, I will step in. Either way, I am finished with Stafford.”
“You would let him beat you? Steal your business and the profits you hoped to make?” Aaron asked, disbelieving.
“It is not about winning or losing, Aaron. If Sir Obadiah decides in favor of Stafford, then Sir Obadiah is not a man of honor and I would not want to do business with him. Either my venture goes ahead, or I am rid of a business partner with dishonorable judgment.”
Catherine laid a hand over Gideon’s. “Besides, I have come to know Sir Obadiah. He will not keep a rogue at his side once he hears the truth.”
Gideon turned to Catherine, his eyes softened.
“I have also written to my solicitors. They are investigating the matter of your inheritance.”
Her lips parted. “My inheritance? No, Stafford must have been mistaken… I have none.”
“You have,” Gideon said gently. “Your Aunt and Uncle truly concealed it, but they will not much longer. It is yours by right, Catherine, and soon it shall be in your hands.”
She stared at him, astonishment mingled with something deeper, a tremor of emotion she could not voice.
Later, they walked a woodland path alone.
Meredith and Aaron remained in the garden, talking about the beginning of their new adventure, together at last, no longer nurse and patient.
Gideon felt that he was seeing everything anew.
It was washed clean of the memories of the past, cleansed by sunlight.
And Catherine was the sun.
He glanced back at his brother in the far distance. “Were you… were you tempted by him?”
She looked at him, and he forced himself to meet her eyes, bracing himself for her answer.
“Not for a moment,” she said with a smile.
“But he is the love of your life,” Gideon murmured, pressing her to deliver a painful blow.
I deserve it for how I have treated her. I deserve the lash.
“He was a memory from a time when I was happy. But that’s all he was. We were good friends as children, but it is you that I married.”
“But—but our marriage could have been annulled. I do not think I would have stood in your way.”
“Wouldn’t you?” she asked.
He shook his head emphatically.
“The old me would have taken it as a personal insult. I would have wanted to fight him.”
“And now?”
“I would have done anything I could to win you back. But fighting is what our father wanted Aaron and me to do. It is what he trained us for. And where has it gotten either of us? Aaron was driven mad, and I have spent my life refusing to allow anyone to get close to me. I believed that love equated to weakness.”
Catherine resumed her walk and bent to pick a violet as she passed. “I think it is the opposite.”
He hurried to catch up with her as she inhaled it, and then accepted it when she pressed it into his hand. “I am beginning to see that.”
“Yet, neither of us has spoken it,” she said, carefully.
Gideon took a breath, feeling unaccountably nervous. Catherine looked at him expectantly, lips parted, eyes wide. She sensed the confession he was about to make, anticipated it. Wanted it.
I must say the words I have been conditioned to regard as anathema. The ultimate sign of weakness.
“I… love you,” he said, simply, allowing himself to be vulnerable before her, before anyone, for the first time.
He blinked. She had spoken at the same time, but he hadn’t heard her. Had she understood him?
“I love you,” he tried again at the exact moment that Catherine had the same idea.
This time, they both understood. They laughed. Kissed. Whispered to each other the same words, one after another. Gideon savored her voice speaking those words. He relished saying them himself.
Catherine was right. It did not make him feel weak. Quite the opposite.
That night, Caerleon lay quiet under the hush of summer stars.
Catherine sat before her mirror, her hair unbound, her gown loosened.
Her heart fluttered. She remembered Gideon’s words, his vow to strip himself of secrets, to offer her nothing but the man he truly was.
The thought filled her with an ache of tenderness.
A soft knock came. She turned, her breath caught.
“Come,” she whispered.
Gideon entered, hesitating only a moment before closing the door behind him.
He stood without cravat, his shirt loose at the throat, revealing the hair that furred his broad, muscular chest. His eyes, dark with feeling, fixed upon her.
For a long breath, they said nothing. Then he came to her, knelt at her feet, and took her hands.
“I have nothing to give you but myself,” he murmured, “I know that titles and wealth mean nothing to you. I would give up both in a heartbeat if you asked.”
Her throat tightened. She cupped his face between her palms.
“I do not ask for it. But if you came to me with nothing, my answer would be the same. You are enough.”