Chapter 28
My dearest Theodora,
I do not know what is happening in London, and I fear something must be terribly wrong, because you have not answered a single one of my letters.
I have written every day, and nothing has come back to me.
I miss you. I miss your mind, your wit, your calm way of explaining things when I panic. I miss you terribly.
“As do I,” Alexander said before he continued reading.
I must tell you something about Alexander.
“Oh?” He raised a brow.
He is… not himself. He is in a numb state.
He barely leaves the house. He even refused an invitation to a ball…
can you imagine? Alexander Kendall, the Scarlet Duke, refusing a ball?
I nearly fainted. He drinks too much, he broods, he snaps at the servants, and he barely speaks to me.
I do not know what happened to him in London, but I know something did. I know it in my bones.
If you know anything, can you please write back? Please tell me you are well. I am worried sick and I feel as though you are upset with me.
Your loving friend,
Rosalind Kendall
Alexander let out a long, exhausted sigh.
He did not mean to read the letter, but Rosalind had left it to dry on his table and once he saw Theodora’s name, he could not help himself.
He stared at the words for a moment, then pressed the folded paper against his forehead as if the cool wax might soothe the pounding behind his eyes.
He wished, at that moment, that he could go to the Iron Pit.
But he was far from the city and did not have the energy to seek out a boxing ring in Wiltshire.
I am ruining everything again.
Not just for himself, he had long accepted that he was a man who excelled at self-destruction, but for Rosalind too. And she had been doing so well. She had been hopeful, bright, and alive in a way he had not seen in years. And now he was dragging her down with him.
Alexander set the letter on the desk just as footsteps approached the study door. He barely had time to shove it into the drawer before Rosalind stepped inside.
She paused, eyes narrowing at him suspiciously. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing,” he said too quickly.
Rosalind raised a brow. “I am tired of hearing that word from you.”
Alexander slumped back into the armchair, reaching automatically for the decanter. He poured himself another drink, the amber liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
Rosalind crossed her arms. “You know, you did not give up on me. Not once. Not when I was sick with melancholy. Nor when I was unbearably quiet and continuously pushed you away—”
“Rosie, what are you getting at with this?”
She cleared her throat. “I guess I am trying to say that I will not give up on you either.”
His hand froze and the liquid sloshed inside his glass.
In the past, they had struggled to talk to each other but that had changed and Alexander still had to grow accustomed to this new frankness.
He offered his sister a smile and she shrugged, pretending it did not matter that much but he saw the sincerity in her hazel eyes.
“Rosie… thank you.”
“No need to thank me, brother. I am just repaying the favor.”
Alexander scoffed and Rosie hid her smirk as she sat opposite him.
The sadness returned in the silence and fell over Alexander like a cloud. “Rosie, I am so tired of failing people.”
All humor vanished from her expression and was replaced by concern.
“You did not fail anyone, Alex.”
“Yes, I did,” he said slowly. “I failed our parents. And I failed you.”
Rosalind looked at him stunned. “Failed our parents? Alexander, what are you talking about?”
He swallowed hard. His throat felt tight and raw. “If I had not been at Eton… they would not have been on the road that night. They were coming to see me, Rosie. They were coming because I asked them to. Because I wrote to them and said I missed them. If I had not —”
“Stop that,” Rosalind said sharply.
He shook his head, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. “If I had not asked them to come, they would still be alive.”
“Alexander,” Rosalind hissed, leaning closer. “You cannot blame yourself for an accident!”
He let out a broken laugh. “Oh, but I have. Every day, for years.”
Rosalind looked at him, horrified. “All this time… you blamed yourself?”
He nodded, unable to speak.
She got up, knelt beside his chair, and took his hand. “I have never blamed you. Not once and not for a single moment.”
Alexander wiped at a rogue tear angrily. Even then he had to be strong for his sister. But Rosalind did not seem to mind.
She squeezed his hand tighter. “You were just a boy. A child who wanted to see his parents. That is not a sin. Nor is it a crime. And it is most definitely not your fault.”
He let out a breath. For a moment, the weight he had carried for so long had lifted only to be replaced by another.
Theodora.
“I failed Theo too,” he said aloud.
Rosalind froze. “Theodora?”
“Yes.” He closed his eyes. “I failed her, Rosie.”
Rosalind stood slowly. “Alexander… what did you do?”
Her compassion for him was quickly replaced by anger.
He wanted to chuckle at how fast her mood changed but he could not even bring himself to smile any longer.
“I do not know what I had with her. But it was not… nothing,” He admitted.
Rosalind let out a soft, knowing sound and smiled.
“What is so funny about this, Rosie?”
She shook her head and laughed. “I knew it! From the first moment I saw you two together. You had a bond with her unlike any other.”
“How do you know it was unlike any other for me?” He was genuinely curious.
Rosalind shrugged. “It was different and real.”
Alexander pretended that he was not taken aback by her words.
“Even so, it does not matter anymore.”
Rosalind frowned at him. “It does matter,” Rosalind insisted. “Especially if you care for her—”
“I did not say I cared,” he snapped.
“You did not have to,” she retorted.
The siblings glared at each other in the playful manner they used to when they were younger and happier.
Rosalind walked back to the chair opposite him and sat down heavily. “If you truly care for her, then why are you sitting here sulking?”
He let out a bitter laugh. “Love is an awful thing, Rosie. It destroys people and it brings nothing but pain. Look at what it did to us.”
Rosalind’s expression softened. “Alexander… I did not mention love.”
He blinked in surprise.
“I…I do not love Theo. I was just giving you an example,” he stuttered.
“Hmm.” She could not hide her smile from him and Alexander rolled his eyes.
“Alex, our parents were genuinely happy and they loved each other deeply. They lived a full life together too. I did not understand that when I was younger. I did not understand how rare that kind of love was until recently.”
He stared at her, unable to speak as her words wrapped around him.
“And wherever they are now,” Rosalind continued, “I know they are still together and still happy. Because love like theirs does not end. It does not disappear with death. It lives on, within us.”
“Rosie…” Alexander started but he was lost for words.
She sat upright and spoke like his mother used to do. The resemblance was uncanny.
“May I ask you something, brother?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes.”
She took a deep breath in and asked, “Would marrying Theodora, or even telling her how you feel, really be worse than the pain you are in now?”
Alexander could not answer.
Rosalind gave him a gentle look. “You are hurting because you care for her. And you lost something you wanted.”
He shook his head. “I do not—”
“Do not be stubborn.” She cut him off. “You care for Theo. You may not want to call it love, but you do care. And you are miserable without her.”
He pressed his palms to his eyes and laughed. “Where did you learn to speak in such a manner?”
“Do not fret about that,” Rosalind said with a smirk. “You just concentrate on your own issues.”
He smiled at his sister.
Rosalind got up and took the glass from his hand, setting it aside. “Brother… you are not failing anyone. Not anymore. But you will fail yourself if you keep pretending that you do not feel anything for Theo.”
He looked up at her, eyes red, and voice hoarse. “What if I am too late?”
Rosalind squeezed his shoulder. “Then you will face that. But you will not face it drunk, silent, and hiding in this study.”
He let out a weak laugh. “You sound like Mother.”
“I know,” Rosalind said with a small smile. “Her ways rubbed off on me.”
He leaned back in the chair, exhausted. “What if I do marry her? And end up ruining her life?”
“What if you do not ruin her life and you both live happily ever after?” Rosalind asked bluntly. “Besides it would be frightful if I married before you…”
Rosalind raised her brows at him and Alexander laughed.
“Anyway, I have riding lessons to attend to. If I see another glass in your hand, I will send you back to London,” she threatened him before she spun around and left him alone with a lot to consider.
* * *
Alexander startled awake that evening with a headache that felt like someone had driven a spike behind his eyes.
He had fallen asleep in the study again, slumped in the armchair with an empty glass on the table beside him.
The fire had burned low, leaving the room cold.
He rubbed his face, trying to force himself awake, but the exhaustion clung to him like a second skin.
He had barely slept for days.
Rosalind’s words from the night before still echoed in his mind, refusing to leave him in peace.
You are hurting because you care.
He had tried to push the thought away, but it lingered stubbornly in his mind.
He reached for letter on the desk. Rosalind had written to Theodora again. She had written every day, and every day she had received nothing in return. Alexander had read the latest letter three times already, each time feeling the guilt twist deeper.
My dearest Theodora,
Are you not writing to me because Alexander hurt you?