Page 78 of Tamed By her Duke

He gave a humorless laugh. “Aye, I think that was what my father was counting on. A way to get rid of me without losing the sympathy of the peers whose voices he valued. But he was damned lucky that I didn’t, in the end, because…”

He trailed off. Grace filled the space.

“Your brother,” she said softly. “Leonard. He died.”

Caleb let out a sound that was almost, not quite a laugh. Why was he not surprised that she knew about Leonard?

But if he was telling her the truth, he might as well tell her the whole truth.

“Leonard,” he said, his voice catching slightly on his brother’s name, which he had not spoken out loud in so, so long. “He was better than me, ye ken? He was like my maither. Sweet, kind. He’d never hurt anyone.”

Not like Caleb. Caleb had been Leonard’s fists, and he’d never regretted the role.

“My faither,” he continued. “Well…my faither was the kind of man who’d send his son off to war and hope that he die. He couldnae control me, ye see. I was too big, too stubborn. And too loyal to my maither and brother, nae to him.”

“But Leonard,” Grace said softly in a voice that said the pieces were falling into place. “He wasn’t too big. And maybe not stubborn enough.”

“Nae, he wasn’t,” Caleb agreed. His heart felt heavy in his chest. “When he was wee, I protected him. Got in the way of my father’s fists when I needed to, but that ended soon enough. I got big young, and my father never did like to fight anyone who might be able to fight back. So, if I stood between him and Leonard, he’d back down. That worked for a little while. But once I went off to school, I couldnae look out for him—and my maither was gone by then, ye see.” He breathed in and out slowly. It hurt. No matter how many years went by, talking about his mother and brother always hurt.

“I scarcely took a breath, those years when I was in England and Lenny was still in Scotland. I would count down the days to the end of each term like a man counting down the days until the end of a prison term. I kept my head down, kept out of trouble—anything to keep from reminding my father that he had sons, or that he might control the elder by striking out at the younger.”

She pressed a featherlight kiss to his shoulder.

“I thought,” he said, bitterness creeping into his tone, “that once I was done with Eton, I’d gotten through the worst of it. My brother came a few years after me, and I protected him from bullies as best I could—that place is practically crawlin’ with bullies, ye ken, and Leonard was a prime target. He was too sweet, too small, too Scottish for yon English lads to stand for.”

Her strokes up and down his arms were soothing, repetitive, and better than any verbal response.

I’m here,those motions said.I’m listening. I’m not afraid.

“But my faither, he pulled strings, wielded his ducal power.” He was practically spitting the words now. “Got me a commission as a Second Lieutenant—only office that’s higher than an Ensign. He couldnae bear me fightin’ alongside the sons of mere merchants, ye see—as a matter of his honor, not mine, of course. Normally, a man signs up for his own commission, but a duke is a duke.”

“And so you and your brother were separated again,” Grace murmured.

“Aye.” Caleb had to breathe slowly in and out before he could keep going. “I gather that my father thought that, if he got me out of the way, he’d be able to shape Leonard however he wanted. Then, once I got myself blown away by the French, he’d have the heir he wanted. Except—” He cleared his throat. “Except I hadn’t been in the army a year before Leonard killed himself.”

Grace sucked in a sharp breath; her hand clenched briefly on his arm before she forced herself to keep stroking, back and forth, back and forth. Oddly, the flinch soothed him, made him feel she understood the seriousness, not only of what had happened to Caleb’s too good brother, but of Caleb telling her this story.

Of him trusting her with the truth.

“My father dinnae even write me in time to attend the funeral,” he said, hoarseness betraying the depth of his emotion. “I dinnae even see my brother buried.” His last words were sharp. “And so, when my father died, I dinnae seehimburied, either. He wrote me, when he started to ail, and I did not come back. I waited until he was gone, andthenI resigned the commission he’d forced upon me.”

“Good.” Grace’s words were savage. When he glanced up at her, not truly surprised, her face was lined with grim certainty. “I hope he regretted it. I hope he wished you were there. And I hope when he died, that he was scared of being alone and knew that, if he was, it was his own fault.”

For a moment, Caleb stared up at her, not truly surprised as much as he was in awe of his fierce little warrior bride. When she caught him looking, she flushed.

“I’m not sorry for saying it,” she said stubbornly. “I know we’re not meant to speak ill of the dead, are supposed to forgive, but I don’t and I won’t. He was wrong for hurting you, and I’m glad he’s dead. I hope it hurt. I won’t apologize.”

He didn’t want her to apologize. He wanted to?—

Well, he wanted to seize her mouth and kiss her, which was precisely what he did.

When he finally released her, he saw that he’d kissed the stubborn expression right off her face, leaving a happily dazed look in his place. He quite liked having that effect on her.

Caleb would have liked to pursue this activity with more vigor, but there was one thing left to say.

“I’m not like Leonard,” he said. “I’m not like my maither. And that makes me worry… If I’m not likeher, perhaps that means I’m destined to be likehim.”

“That,” said the wife who had been so sweetly sympathetic to him, who had been so vengeful in his name, “is so profoundly idiotic I simply cannot explain to you how.”

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