Chapter 26
“Pass the potatoes, please, Tristan,” Cathy said good-naturedly. “Unless you mean to have the entire bowl for yourself.”
The bowl did look like it belonged to the Duke of Baxter, as it sat too close to his plate.
Tristan merely chuckled and winked at her. “My apologies, darling. You know how ravenous I can be during dinner.”
Cathy scoffed and pushed at him playfully. “I know you have a large appetite, but this time, we are not alone, Tristan.”
They were, indeed, not alone at the Huntington dining hall.
The table was crowded with the whole family.
Madeline’s heart was brimming with joy, surrounded by the people she cared about.
Her grandpapa and grandmama, Portia and Selina, Tristan and Cathy, Malcolm and Kenneth.
The conversations overlapped, but she knew that even without the words, even the silence between them would be comfortable.
Madeline sat quite close to Kenneth, confident that her shoulder brushing his arm would be welcome.
Beneath the heavy tablecloth, her hand rested on his knee, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.
He did not move away from her, nor did he let go of her hand.
Instead, his large hand captured hers and squeezed back.
“So, are we now doing what they are doing?” she whispered as she eyed Tristan leaning over to Cathy, who gave a melodic laugh in response to whatever it was he said.
“Well, your grandmama is very pleased,” Kenneth commented. “And my brother seems content and is also quite patient with your grandpapa.”
Madeline followed his gaze. Down the table, Malcolm had turned his chair toward Lord Marlow, who had him cornered with his ear trumpet raised.
“You have the look of a military man, Spruce,” the Baron declared. “Tell me, did you ever serve?”
“I am afraid not, my lord,” Malcolm said, raising his voice. “I never took a commission.”
“A fish on?” Lord Marlow’s brows shot up. “No, no, you would not catch a fish on a commission. You catch them with a line and a bit of patience. I once landed a pike the length of my arm, you know. Took me the better part of an afternoon.”
“A pike?” Malcolm leaned in, his smile widening. “You must tell me how.”
“Ah, now there is a young man with sense! Most of them only pretend to listen, but you? You have the makings of an angler.” Lord Marlow clapped him on the shoulder, delighted.
Madeline watched her brother-in-law indulge the old man, and something warm settled in her. The Malcolm of a few weeks ago would have drained six glasses by now and slipped away to pass out on the floor.
“Oh, I think he likes him,” Madeline said with a sigh. “My grandpapa likes you, as you know by now.”
“Do I know that?” Kenneth asked, raising an eyebrow.
At the other end of the table, Lady Marlow was beaming.
“A duke, betrothed to my Selina,” she said, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “I always knew this one would marry well. Did I not say so, Madeline? Did I not always say it?”
“You did, Grandmama,” Madeline agreed, smiling.
Selina blushed. “Grandmama, please. We do not have to talk about it again.”
“Of course we do! Your success is a boon to this family.” Lady Marlow turned her sharp eyes on Portia. “Which is more than I can say for you, child. Must you read at the dinner table?”
“I am listening,” Portia said, without lifting her gaze from her book.
“You will read yourself into spinsterhood. No gentleman wants a wife who prefers dead Greeks to a dance.”
“Then we are well matched,” Portia murmured. “For I want no gentleman.”
“Speaking of gentlemen,” Cathy said, glancing toward the empty chair at the end of the table. “Was Papa not invited tonight? I confess I half expected to find him here.”
“Invited?” Lady Marlow gave a short laugh. “My dear, the kindest thing Harleigh does for this family these days is stay away. We should be grateful for his absences.”
Madeline pressed her lips together. Her father was a little better these days.
His debts had been settled, and the creditors had stopped hounding him.
He even drank less now, from what Madeline heard.
But she did not let herself hope. She had seen him improve before, more than once, only to fall back into his old ways each time.
Beside her, Kenneth leaned in, his voice low enough for her alone. “Does it trouble you that he is not here?”
Before Madeline could answer his question, the dining room’s heavy doors flung open.
The laughter and conversations in the room died down.
A woman stepped over the threshold. She looked a little pale, but she was beautiful, with large eyes fringed with long lashes, and was a few inches taller than her, though still shorter than Cathy.
“Who is that?” Madeline whispered. “How did she get in here?”
But Kenneth did not answer. His jaw was clenched.
It was clear he did not expect or like the woman’s appearance, even though he seemed to recognize her.
For a heartbeat, the room was quiet, and nobody seemed ready to breathe.
Even Lady Marlow looked confused about how to handle the situation, her eyes flying to Kenneth and Malcolm.
Malcolm shot up to his feet. His movement was so quick and almost violent that his dining chair screeched loudly against the floorboards. Though not drunk, he nearly slammed his chair backward. His wine glass rattled against his plate. Crimson liquid pooled on the white tablecloth.
“Roberta?” he breathed, his voice cracking as he approached the woman. “Is that really you?”
He strode across the room to meet the woman, whose eyes were clearly sweeping the space. When he reached her, he embraced her tightly against his chest. Madeline nearly bowed her head to avoid watching the awkward desperation in which he did so. It dawned on her who the woman was—Malcolm’s wife.
This was the woman who left him. Madeline did not think she would be so generous in her welcome if someone had abandoned her and then returned without explanation.
“You... You are back,” Malcolm choked out as he pulled away from her, only to hold her at arm’s length. His face still held shock, confusion, and hope all blended into one emotion. “You are actually here, Roberta. I cannot believe it!”
Mrs. Spruce did not return her husband’s embrace and affection.
Her arms were rigidly locked at her sides.
Madeline noticed how the other woman’s hands were curled into fists.
What happened to her? How could she be so cold to him when he was readily accepting her return?
Why would she return if not to reunite with her husband and children?
As if finally sensing her coldness, Malcolm stepped back and watched his wife’s face for any sign. An eager hope broke across his features.
“Oh, Roberta! Emily and Alex will be so happy...” he rambled. “They miss you and constantly ask for you. You should not worry about anything. We can put everything that happened behind us. It no longer matters what kept you away. Just stay, and let us be a family again.”
“No, Malcolm,” Roberta said in a cool, low tone.
Malcolm’s smile faltered, although he tried to keep it there. Confusion marred his features.
“What do you mean no?” he asked, the corners of his mouth pulling downward. “You came back. You are here. We can fix whatever the problem was. I will do anything, just come back to us.”
“I can never come back,” she said. “Not to this house, Malcolm.”
Madeline was surprised by the iciness in the woman’s tone. She could not believe that she had come back and not even given the rest of the party some acknowledgment. Even worse, she was not eager to see her own children.
“Why not?” Malcolm asked, prompting Madeline to fear he would return to his bottle after the encounter. “Tell me why you cannot stay.”
It was then that Roberta shifted her gaze from him and swept the rest of the room, past the shocked Marlows, past the intrigued Baxters, past the concerned Madeline, until her bitter eyes locked onto Kenneth.
At that moment, Madeline glanced at her husband.
He appeared perfectly still, but a telltale tic in his jaw revealed he was not unaffected by this display.
“Because...” Roberta declared, tilting her chin upward. “Your brother assaulted me two years ago.”
Lady Marlow gasped, while some jaws dropped around the table.
Only Lord Marlow looked unperturbed, possibly because he did not hear what she said clearly.
Madeline turned to her husband, her heart pounding in her chest. She searched his face for any signs of what he thought, but he did not even blink.
He sat straight in his chair, with his eyes focused on his accuser.
Meanwhile, Malcolm’s hands dropped heavily to his sides. He seemed paralyzed from his wife’s words, his eyes darting between his wife and his brother.
“After he... forced me, he told me to leave, or he would do it again,” Roberta continued. “He threatened me! I had to leave in shame.”
“Flame? Is there a fire? Is that why everybody looks so upset?” Lord Marlow asked, standing in panic.
“Stop talking, Norman,” Lady Marlow barked, pulling him back down. “This is serious.”
Meanwhile, Malcolm looked completely aghast. He remained silent as Roberta began to cry.
“The things he did to me, Malcolm.” Roberta’s voice trembled, and a tear slipped down her cheek.
“I cannot bring myself to say it aloud. He pulled me against him and tried to have his way with me. He tore at my gown. He was so much stronger than I, and by the time I escaped him, my dress was ripped. Anyone who saw me that night would have known what he did.”
“That is a bald-faced lie,” Kenneth gritted out, even as he held himself straight and steady where he was seated. His hands were clenched into fists.
“You told me not to tell Malcolm,” Roberta continued, raising her chin. “You said you wanted me, and that there was no need for me to leave my husband, and that you would marry, too. But that we could—”
Madeline felt her skin prickle and pale. She did not know what to do at that moment. She was frozen in her seat.
“Did you try to force my wife to become your mistress?” Malcolm asked angrily.
“Your wife is lying!” Kenneth said, rising from his seat now.
Everyone’s eyes followed the confrontation.
“You know I would never do such a thing. You have known me since you were a child. I am your brother. I would never force a woman into my bed. Never! And do that to my own brother? How can you believe that?”
Malcolm turned to Roberta, conflicted. “Do not believe a word he says, Malcolm. I would never leave you and my children if he had not...”
“If I had not what, Roberta? Why do you not tell Malcolm the truth about what really happened?”
Malcolm faced his brother, his face red with anger. “All this time... I did not suspect that you were responsible for my misery, my own blood.”
“Malcolm, look at me. I would never do anything to hurt you. I have devoted my whole life to ensuring your safety. Yours and your children’s.”
Malcolm laughed aloud at that. “No, Kenneth. My whole life, I have been hurt because of you.”
Without any warning, Malcolm stormed toward his brother and gave him a punch right to his nose.
Madeline let out a cry as Kenneth staggered, blood spurting through his fingers as he held his nose.
But he did not raise a hand against Malcolm.
He only caught his brother’s next swing and held it, and when Malcolm threw himself at him, Kenneth let the weight take them both down to the floor.
They struggled there, Malcolm hurling accusations as he fought, Kenneth absorbing every blow he could not block.
“You were always the one who made me suffer, Kenneth!” Malcolm’s voice cracked as he swung again. “Every time you failed, it was me he took it out on. And you let him!”
“Malcolm—”
“I was a child, Kenneth! I did not understand why I was being punished for sins that were not mine. I only knew that the better you were, the more it cost me.” He landed another blow, his eyes wet now. “You were his favorite.”
“It is not the boon you think it was, Malcolm!” Kenneth retorted.
“You always had everything! And you also wanted my wife?”
They rolled to the other side, with Malcolm trying to pummel Kenneth with more punches while his brother simply held on to him.
“Damn you, Kenneth! How could you do this to me?”
“I did not do anything! I intended to tell you what happened, but...”
Tristan seemed to have reached the end of his self-control, rising from his seat and flinging himself at the brothers. He tried to pull the two apart.
“Stay out of this!” Malcolm yelled as he tried to punch Kenneth in the face one more time.
Kenneth would not hit Malcolm back. They continued to struggle as the younger brother continued to pummel his brother while the older blocked the blows. Madeline could bear it no longer. She rose, snatched up her glass of water, and threw it over both of them.
“That is enough!”