Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Roman was waiting.
Lyness had barely stepped through the front door when a clipped, unmistakable voice called to him from the study. “Lyness. In here.”
He removed his hat, handed it to Thomas the footman, and braced himself.
The house was too quiet. His mother must have retired after he returned her home from the garden party.
Roman had been at the club earlier, with his list of suspects and the hope of enlisting his friends to investigate.
Given the tone of his voice, either it had not gone well or he had learned of Lyness’s actions already.
Which left Lyness with no chance of delaying what must come.
He entered the study, shoulders squared and head held high.
Standing near the mantel, Roman braced one hand against the carved stone, the other clenched at his side. His jaw tight enough to crack.
“Would you like to explain yourself?” Roman’s voice was dangerously calm. “Because I am curious to hear you attempt it.”
Keeping his composure, Lyness closed the door behind him. “I take it you have heard the news.”
“Heard,” Roman snapped, “is far too gentle a word. I was informed. At my club. By men who found themselves delighted to congratulate me on my brother’s sudden betrothal.
” He turned, eyes sharp. It was a rare thing, to see Roman shaken enough to let emotion show plainly on his face.
He was, in fact, furious. “My brother who, until this morning, had given no indication he intended to propose to Lady Emily Sterling.”
It took effort to keep his voice steady and his stutter to a minimum. “I acted to protect her.”
“No,” Roman shot back. “You acted without speaking to me. Did you consult with anyone before you made your announcement?”
“No.” His hands balled at his sides, but he told himself to keep calm. He had expected this, but he thought he would be the one informing Roman of the change in plans, not defending himself.
“What were you thinking, Lyness? How could you make such a decision without speaking to Sterling? Without speaking to her. Do you have any idea the position you have placed her in? The position you have placed this family in?”
Lyness flinched—not at the words, but at the way Roman spoke them, as though Lyness were a reckless boy rather than the man who had helped carry Emily from danger the night before. “I did what I needed to do.”
That made Roman glower. “What you needed to do?” He stalked toward Lyness.
“I have spent the entire day trying to determine who attempted to drug me, and in the midst of it, I am told my own brother has decided to shoulder a burden meant for me. The responsibility was mine. I am the head of this family, I am the one that must see to it that things are done correctly. You do not understand, Lyness. The engagement ought to have been mine to offer, because I am the one who—”
“No,” Lyness interrupted quietly. “The responsibility is mine.”
That pulled Roman up short, and his steps halted.
Torn between needing to speak quickly and clearly, Lyness had to fight his tongue for every other word he said.
“You speak of responsibility as though I do not understand it. As though running to rescue a lady from scandal is more than I can manage. But Roman, for years now, I have been the one handling the estate accounts. I have ridden through rain and snow to settle disputes between tenants. I have met with the solicitor at every turn while you were here in York, fighting political battles.” His voice firmed.
“Do not tell me I do not understand responsibility.”
Roman’s anger faltered by a fraction. A small fraction, but it was enough for Lyness to notice it.
With some relief that his brother was listening, truly listening, Lyness continued, the words finally untangling themselves after years of trapping his tongue.
“I have done all of it willingly. Gladly. And I will continue, as it is my duty to our family. But do not lecture me as if I have spent my life idle while you alone carried burdens.”
For a long and uncomfortable moment, Roman stared at him. His throat tightened on a swallow. “That is not what I meant.”
“Yet it is what you said,” Lyness replied, quiet and resolute.
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.
Finally, Roman scraped a hand over his face, staring at the floor between them. “Lyness…you should not have claimed a betrothal on impulse. Not for a woman still recovering. Not without speaking to me. Not without knowing—”
“I know what matters,” Lyness said softly.
At that his brother looked up, brows drawn together and eyes troubled.
Lyness swallowed. His throat felt tight, but the words would not be denied. They had waited too long already. “I know that I am falling in love with her.”
Shock widened Roman’s eyes, and his fury melted away.
After Lyness steadied his words with a breath, he spoke with nary a stammer.
“I know that when she is unwell, my heart feels as though someone has reached inside and twisted it. I know that every time she looks at me, I feel as though I have stepped into sunlight after standing in the shadows my entire life.” His voice softened.
“I know that if the circumstances were better, she might never have chosen me at all. But this morning, when gossip was already turning cruel…Roman, I could not bear the thought of her being sacrificed to duty. Or to your sense of honor.”
Roman opened his mouth but immediately closed it again, no word leaving his lips.
Carefully, Lyness pressed on. “You would have married her because you believed you must. I declared myself because I wanted to. Because I have wanted to from the first day I met her.”
Turning from Lyness, Roman stepped away as though he needed distance to comprehend the words. The fire hissed in the hearth, and the long-case clock in the entryway chimed the hour.
Opening his hands at his side, trying to relax his posture, Lyness thought carefully through the last of what he needed to say to his brother.
“If Lady Emily rejects me, then that is her right. I would never force her into anything. But I will not apologize for caring about her. Nor for protecting her when she needed a shield.”
Steps away from him, Roman’s hands open and closed. His voice, when it emerged, was hoarse. “You should have told me what you planned. Instead you sent me on another path. You encouraged me to focus my attention elsewhere.”
“I feared you would stop me.”
The lack of denial that followed was as good as an agreement on that statement.
Another long moment passed before Roman exhaled, the anger finally bleeding from his posture.
“Lyness,” he said quietly, turning to face him again.
“I have always thought you the gentler of us. The softer brother. But I see now that you are…resolute in a manner I did not expect.”
Lyness managed a faint, sad smile. “That makes two of us.”
Reluctant acceptance flickered through Roman’s expression. Then came something more like the affection Lyness was used to, but felt more brittle than usual.
Circling around his desk, Roman sank slowly into his chair, elbows on the surface, head bowed. For a moment he did not look like Baron Hartwell or the unflappable man who stormed through York’s political circles. He looked… tired.
No—wounded.
“This is the third time,” he said quietly. Not accusing. Not even resentful. Just stating a truth he could no longer avoid. “Three times I have waited too long. Three times someone else has acted more decisively, winning the hand of a woman who would have made an excellent baroness.”
Lyness’s heart pinched. He had not thought about that, exactly.
Roman stared into the fire. “I admired her, you know. She is gentle. Intelligent. Steady. I could have been content with her.” His voice tightened, almost imperceptibly. “I was not indifferent.”
Guilt and relief collided almost painfully in Lyness’s chest. “I…I did not realize.”
“How could you?” Roman asked, lifting his head at last. His expression softened in a way Lyness rarely saw, stripped of authority, of pride, of all the armor he habitually carried.
“I move slowly. Cautiously. It has never served me well where a lady is concerned.”He gave a small, humorless huff of breath.
“And now it seems that fate would rather hand my chances to you.”
Lyness came to stand beside the desk to protest his brother’s words. “Roman—”
“No.” Roman raised a hand, the gesture brief but firm. “Do not apologize. You acted decisively when I did not. And you did it for the heart’s sake, hers and your own. A man cannot resent that.” He leaned back, shoulders stiffening as he pulled the mantle of baron back over himself. “I will not.”
Lyness nodded, throat tight.
With a steady gaze, Roman asked, “Do you truly care for her, Lyness? You believe yourself capable of loving her?”
“Yes,” Lyness whispered. “I have fought against it, especially knowing you wished to court her. But I cannot ignore my heart. Not anymore.”
Roman closed his eyes briefly—perhaps bidding farewell to a possibility he’d never claim—then opened them with quiet resolve. “Then you have my blessing.”
At that simple statement, Lyness sank into the chair on the other side of the desk. His whole posture finally loosening. “I had not realized how much I needed to hear that.” He passed his hand over his face and tried to smile. It was shaky, at best. “Thank you.”
Roman rose from the chair. For the first time since Lyness entered the study, he stepped close and rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
The gesture held both weight and acceptance.
And perhaps a trace of grief. “Make her happy,” Roman said softly.
“Where I might have been content, be joyful. Where I would have been dutiful, be devoted. Let this be the end of disappointment for at least one Eastwood.”
“I will,” Lyness vowed, looking upward.