Chapter 21
“You have cheated me, brother,” Christopher began as he sat down in front of Ewan’s desk, without preamble. “You have stolen from me, cheated me, and now you have robbed me.”
Ewan tried to remain calm, and to still the beating in his heart.
He was not surprised that promising to pay his brother’s debts had not fully settled Christopher’s vengeful entitlement. But he was surprised by the look of pure venom on his face.
“Those are heavy accusations indeed,” Ewan said slowly. “And how, may I ask, have I accomplished these feats?”
“You know how,” Christopher snarled. “You stole the woman I was meant to marry, and along with her, her dowry! And now you offer me small sums to cover some of my debts, rather than giving me what was mine to begin with. What was lawfully mine.”
Ewan frowned at him. “I am not offering you small sums, Christopher. You asked for this money to be transferred to you. You are the one who made the request of me.”
Christopher’s face reddened, but he did not look embarrassed. If anything, he sounded even more righteous when he spoke.
“They may cover my debts, but what of the rest of my living expenses?”
“You have the living that was granted to you,” Ewan began, but his brother only scoffed.
“The living is insufficient! I was promised a dowry, a large dowry, that I would be able to live comfortably on for the rest of my life.”
Ewan said nothing for a long moment. He very much doubted that Christopher would have been able to live comfortably on Cassandra’s dowry for the rest of his life.
Not because it was not generous, because it was.
A frugal man would be able to live well on it, and if he were smart and invested it wisely, he might even be able to make money.
But Christopher was not a frugal man, and Ewan suspected he might not be smart, either.
“Are you listening to me, Ewan?” Christopher demanded. He leaned forward. “I want what I am owed. What is rightfully mine.”
Ewan took his time in responding. “You mean you want Her Grace’s dowry,” he said. It felt surreal to even say the words out loud.
“Yes,” Christopher said at once, without even a trace of guilt. “She was to be mine, Ewan. The contract was signed. The banns were read. And if I had not almost drowned, then she would have been!”
“You ran off,” Ewan said, some of his frustration slipping into his voice.
“It may not have been your fault that your ship was wrecked, but it is your fault that you went on a journey to reclaim your bachelorhood right before your wedding. I had to make a hard decision, Christopher, even while grieving what I believed to be your death. It was not easy for me to do. But I had a responsibility to Cassandra and to her parents, and now it is done, and there is nothing that can be done about it.”
“You could give me her dowry,” Christopher insisted. “Give me the dowry that I am owed.”
Ewan felt a drop of cold sweat slip down his spine. He stared at his brother, thinking. He loved him, of course he did. They had grown up together, and he had always protected Christopher. Always.
But now, there was someone else he had to protect more.
“No,” he said, his voice cutting through the room like the slash of a knife. “I am sorry, Christopher, but I cannot do that. More importantly, I will not.”
Christopher’s face turned bright red, and his jaw clenched. “Why?” he spat. “Lord knows you do not need the money! The estate is thriving.”
“It is not about me,” Ewan said, and he felt his hands curl into fists at his side.
“It is about Cassandra. The money is being held in trust for her, to use as she likes. Perhaps on her children, someday, or…” he voice caught slightly.
“Or whatever she wishes,” he finished. “And I will not give that money away to a man who abandoned her and ran away when he had the chance to step up and do what was noble and right and marry her.”
Christopher sprang up from his seat. For a moment, Ewan thought that he might actually hit him. His hand was half-raised, and Ewan braced himself.
But then, to his shock, Christopher crumpled back into his seat, tears sprang to his eyes, and he covered his face with his hands. Then he began to weep.
“Brother…” he howled. “You do not know how hard it has been. The debts that are racking up… The creditors who are after me… It is so much more than I can even admit to you. I am drowning, Ewan, drowning, and I have no one to turn to, no one to help me. That money… It might have saved me. But without it, I am doomed, Ewan, doomed.”
Despite himself, Ewan felt a twinge of sympathy. All his life, he had been rushing in to save Christopher, and now was no different.
“You are not alone,” he said gently, and Christopher looked up.
His face was streaked with tears, his eyes red.
He no longer looked like the handsome, confident man who had strode in here moments ago.
“And you are certainly not doomed! You are my brother, Christopher, and I would never allow anything to happen to you.”
“But you will not give me the dowry,” Christopher said petulantly.
“No, I will not,” Ewan said. “And I would advise you not to ask again. That is Cassandra’s, and I will not take it from her.”
“It is yours,” Christopher interjected. “Technically, and legally.”
“What I will do,” Ewan said, ignoring this, “is give you larger sums of money to cover the true costs of your gambling habits and your creditors. But—” he held his gaze “—I will only do so if you promise to reform. I cannot help you pay these debts if you only turn around and rack up new ones tomorrow. I will need a guarantee from you that you will make better, wiser, more abstemious choices moving forward, so that this does not happen again.”
Christopher swallowed, and for a moment, he looked as if he were going to say something churlish. But instead, he nodded.
“Of course,” he murmured. “I will reform my ways. Of course I will. You are too kind to me, brother. Too generous. I do not deserve it, but I am eternally grateful.”
“You are my brother,” Ewan repeated. “I would not leave you out in the cold. You should have come to me sooner with all of this. There was no need to wait until things escalated.”
“You are right,” Christopher muttered, looking down at the ground. “I will always come to you in the future.”
“There is not going to be a future,” Ewan reminded him.
“Of course. Of course.” Christopher agreed before Ewan had finished speaking.
Ewan paused for a moment before continuing, “And in regards to your livelihood, I believe what has been arranged is perfectly adequate for an unmarried lord such as yourself. If he does not gamble it away, that is. Would you agree?
Christopher hesitated, “Y-yes, I would agree.” He looked down at his hands, then glanced at the scotch behind Ewan. “Why do we not drink to our agreement?”
“I do not think…”
But Christopher ignored him, crossing to the decanter and busying himself pouring two glasses, his back to Ewan. He then returned and handed one to him.
“To new beginnings,” Christopher said, raising his glass high.
“To new beginnings,” Ewan said reluctantly. And he drank.
***
When he woke the next morning, Ewan’s head was pounding and the inside of his mouth felt fuzzy. He was also, he realized, fully clothed. Sunlight was slanting in through the open curtains of his bedchamber, as if he had not closed them the night before, and his feet hurt.
He looked down to see that he was still wearing his boots.
What happened last night?
He could not fully remember.
He remembered drinking with his brother in the study. Vaguely. And then… Had they continued drinking on the terrace? He squinted as he tried to remember.
How much had they had to drink? He did not remember having more than one or two glasses. But surely, it must have been, considering how foggy he felt this morning, how blistering his headache was, and the fact that he could not remember most of the night.
He was slow to get up, although he felt better once he had finally washed his face in the ceramic basin on his dresser and changed into fresh clothes.
Still, he was not feeling fully himself even an hour later, as he sat at the breakfast table, trying to read the morning paper. The words kept trying to rearrange themselves on the page, and the light shining in through the large windows seemed far brighter than usual.
He was just thinking of giving up on his attempt when the door to the breakfast room flew open, and Alaric strode in.
“I have news of a very unsavory nature,” Alaric said, throwing himself into the closest chair and running a hand through his hair. “And I am afraid to say that it involved your brother.”
Ewan, whose stomach was already somewhat queasy, felt himself grow even more nauseated.
“Do not tell me,” he muttered. “His debts are even greater than you suspected. Well, he told me himself yesterday. He actually broke down in the telling, if you can believe it. I had not seen Christopher cry like that in a very long—”
“It is not just the amount of the debts,” Alaric interrupted. He checked over his shoulder, as if to make sure that Christopher was not lurking in the shadows, and then lowered his voice. “It is the men to whom he owes the money.”
“What do you mean?” he asked quickly.
“It is a criminal ring that is operating out of Edinburgh,” Alaric murmured, his voice almost so low now that Ewan had to struggle to hear him. “The Ferguson family.”
There was a protracted silence. The Ferguson family was a notorious criminal organization. Ewan had never had any run-ins with them, as he had always kept to the straight and narrow life, but he had heard of other, more minor lairds getting swept up in their dealings.
He had thought that Christopher was smarter than that.
And he had thought wrong.
“What do you know?” he growled.
Alaric sat back. “Not much,” he admitted.
“I wish I knew more. I have been doing some digging, but it is hard to get as many details as I would like. People are closed-lipped about this, as you can imagine. But my friends who used to drink with Christopher tell me that the Fergusons have been coming round Inverness and asking about Christopher, inquiring as to his whereabouts. And they told me they seem angry. Which can mean only one thing: He owes them money.”
Ewan sat back in his chair, dread filling him up. He had not thought things were this bad. At the same time, he felt a fleeting flicker of relief that Cassandra had not married his brother.
At least she will not be tied up in this mess.
“Are you going to say something to Christopher?” Alaric asked. “Are you going to ask him who exactly he owes this money to?”
“I am not sure yet,” Ewan said. “I need to think.”
“Well, do not wait too long,” Alaric cautioned. “The Fergusons will want their money. The only question is, once they know that the duke has opened the faucet, will they ever stop?”
“I do not see what choice I have,” Ewan muttered. “If I do not pay…” He cleared his throat. “I have already lost my brother once. I will not do so again.”
***
At dinner that night, the brother who joined them seemed more like the old Christopher.
He was in top form, laughing, smiling with abandon, and clapping Ewan on the back whenever possible.
He was not simply attentive to Cassandra, for once, but engaged everyone, including Lillian and Alaric, in conversation.
This was the man he had missed. The one that he hoped to restore by paying off his debts. Christopher had fallen into hard times, and it had made him into a different person, one that was selfish and greedy. But it was not too late for him. Ewan could fix things. He could bring his brother back.
“Why do we not have a toast?” Christopher asked, looking up at Ewan and grinning. “To my brother, the most generous and caring elder brother a man could ever ask for.”
He stood and took the decanter of wine from the footman, who was already stepping forward to refill Ewan’s glass.
“Allow me,” he said gallantly. Coming over to Ewan’s side, Christopher began to pour the wine into Ewan’s goblet. Their eyes met, and Christopher gave him a smaller, more intimate smile.
“I cannot imagine my life without you, brother,” he murmured. “You have saved me, again and again. I am forever in your debt.”
“It is no debt,” Ewan said. “We are brothers.”
“You are a lucky man, you know,” Christopher said. “You have everything one could ever hope for. A beautiful home, great friends, and best of all, a loving wife.”
Christopher handed him his full glass, then turned back to the assembled room and raised his own.
“To the Duke of Calder! The man who has it all!”
Everyone in the room raised their glasses. Ewan felt, suddenly, a powerful urge to look at Cassandra. She was all the way down at the other end of the table, but when their eyes met, something electric moved through him.
She was watching him with something like apprehension, the small line between her eyes deep and her jaw tight. He didn’t know what worried her, but as he gazed at her, he tried to indicate, through his expression, that everything was well.
Christopher was right. He was lucky. He had it all. And he had been pushing away the best part of that.
But as he stared back at Cassandra, the old fear lifted its head like a hydra. Because the better Christopher became, the kinder and more charming, the more attentive and affable, the more it reminded Ewan of the cold hard truth: No woman could ever prefer him over his brother.
And so he drank.