CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #2
Fear and his own pride kept him rooted to the spot behind his desk, unable to follow her through the heavy study door.
He wanted to—he really did. He wanted to go back to that morning, to tell her that having breakfast with her terrified him but would make him happy, and she would see that he could be a true, good man.
But had he agreed to breakfast he would have only ruined it some other way, surely.
There was a quiet knock on the door, and a small voice followed. “Brother?”
“Not now, Daphne, please,” he muttered, his anger abated, leaving only an exhausted acceptance behind.
“I actually believe now is a perfect time to bother you,” Daphne said, stepping into his study. “For you may shout at your wife but you cannot order me out.”
“I can, and I will—”
“And I shall get Mama, who will come down here and tell you that as strict as our father was he did not once raise his voice to his wife.”
The firmness in her voice drew him up short.
“Are you here to lecture me, sister?”
“Yes, in fact. For I am ten and nine, Graham, and I wish to marry one day—happily. I wish to be courted, and married, and loved. But no suitor will come within ten feet of me due to you. They fear you.”
“I cannot help that.”
“You could be nicer.”
Graham pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is this all you came for?”
“No,” she said honestly. “Amelia fled here and went into the library. I was on my way there, and thought I would speak with you. I sent Mama to check on her in your neglect to do so. Why have you not followed her yourself?”
“We do not need people checking up on a marital spat,” he answered, frustrated.
“Not need, no, but you can want someone to. Amelia might want someone to. She has left her home, her family, her friends, all due to a misunderstanding, Graham. The least we can do is offer her some company when she is distressed. As you should be doing.”
Graham opened his mouth, ashamed, but Daphne continued on.
“Do you know the lengths she went to in order to fulfill her ducal duties of hosting a ball while ensuring you would have as much comfort as possible? She knew you would not be entirely fine with all those guests, with the whole occasion of a ball, and tried very hard to find the balance.”
“And last night, aside from our cousin’s outburst, was one of the best nights of my life. Right at her side.”
“If it felt so good then why are you pushing her away?” Daphne asked, her tone slightly pleading.
“You have ghosts that haunt you, Graham, I understand. What you went through was not easy to endure, and yet you have had to. You lost two best friends, our father, and, in a way, yourself, and it has made you lash out. It has made you cruel, even, at times. I lost my brother, our mama lost her son. You were never the same after the duel.”
“And you expect me to be?” he asked, lethally quiet.
“No. No, I do not, but I expect you to understand that you are not the only person in this house that feels things they cannot always speak about. Your wife has endured scandal and gossip in order to save both of your reputations. She has endured many things, sacrificed a lot, as you have. The least you can do is offer her solace in that. You fight different things from your pasts but right now, your common enemy are those fights, for you cannot bridge the gap you need to cross to speak with her.”
“I am not ready to talk about what happened in that clearing.” Graham’s voice was choked, upset. “I cannot get the words out, Daphne. They—they are there, and I try, for I know the good it will do, but I simply cannot, and I loathe myself for it. Every second of the day, I am berating myself—”
“And what good will berating yourself do if you cannot even put your pride aside right now and approach your wife?”
The study fell silent. Graham swallowed, nodding. “You are right. But it is my fear, too, that keeps me hidden away in here.”
“I understand that you are scared. But I think Amelia is, too. Take the time you need to retrieve your wits but you must find your way back to her. I do not wish to live the rest of my time at Blackthorn in misery because my brother is too ashamed of his past to overcome his own temperament. You believe you are cursed, that you are beastly, but the words of a writer cannot linger more than the actions of your wife who has shown you that she believes you may rise above it. You may shout and say the wrong thing but you do not have to dwell on it forever, Graham. We all make mistakes. That makes you a man, brother, not a beast, and Amelia has been trying to tell you as such.”
Daphne’s face softened as she reached over to take his hand, squeezing it.
“Give Amelia space today, and tomorrow we shall attend the musicale evening. There will be no dancing and any gossip will be drowned out by the orchestra. Focus on your wife. Focus on you. That is all. The ton remains outside of these front doors once the evening is over but Amelia will still be there.”
She smiled at him, an encouraging, small thing that he felt he did not deserve but he swallowed back the self-deprecation. His sister was right, and he nodded at her, hoping she knew he was trying to absorb her words fully.
He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Daphne. I did not ever think I would receive a lecture from my own sister, and yet.” He laughed under his breath. “You will make a fine wife for a man one day and he shall never know peace.”
“That is what Mama has said, too.” She smirked, standing up from her chair. “Now, I am going to indulge myself in a rather romantic play in order to think about said future marriage of mine.”
He only nodded, fully berated, as Daphne left the study.
He could not stop thinking about her proclamation I lost a brother.
He had never truly stopped to think about how his isolation had affected them.
He had been so intent on managing the estate from afar, burying himself in papers and ledgers and accounts, that he had neglected one of the most important things: actually being there for them as family.
He would change—he had to change.