Page 2 of His Enemy Duchess

Gregory hesitated. “A duel with Samuel Kendall.”

Thomas sighed and shook his head, pacing around the room as if he intended to punish every floorboard for William’s idiocy. “I warned you about this, did I not?” He stopped and started between words, needing the movement to calm himself, but also needing to look his brother in the eyes. “You knew he had an eye out for you. Youknewhe could not help but test you, and yet youstilllet him! I told you to stay away from him!”

Have I been too soft?

He did not think he could have been any clearer, but ifthiswas the result, then evidently he should have been leading the family with a fist of stronger iron.

“I did…” William pleaded on a pained breath. “I did, Thomas. For a year, I avoided everywhere and everything so as not to cross paths with him, but he left me no choice!”

Thomas clenched his hands into fists. “There isalwaysa choice, William! And I trusted you to make a better one.”

“Was I supposed to let him insult me?!” William groaned in pain as he squirmed on the bed.

“Yes!” Thomas threw up his hands. “Yes, you should have! Do you know how many members of this family havelost their livesbecause they wouldn’t let an insult slide? How many Pratts are dead in the prime of their youth because of this ridiculous vendetta?”

Petulance quivered in William’s lip. “You weren’t there. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Oh, and pray tell, Brother, what did the young Kendall do that wassoimportant,soinsulting?”

William was hesitant in a way that Thomas recognized. His younger brother wore the look of a man who knew the answer would make him sound like even more of an idiot.

“He… he tricked me and made me destroy my last bottle of whiskey… the one I had specially ordered,” William replied quietly.

“All of… this…” Thomas pressed his fingertips to his temples, wishing he could be more shocked by the situation. “… for a bottle of alcohol. Are you addled, William? You must be. You can’t possibly be serious.”

William dropped his chin to his chest. What else could he say?

“Not only will you pay the fine for the duel out of yourownpocket,” Thomas barked, “but you are, effective immediately,completely cut off from the family treasury. If you can’t abide by my rules, you won’t benefit from my coffers.”

“What?” William sat up, propelled by the horror of the threat despite the physician’s earlier protests. “For how long?”

“For as long asIsay. I am the Duke of Heathcote, and I will not let our family perish due to a stupid conflict thatyoukeep perpetuating!” Thomas realized his lungs were too tight, making it hard to breathe, and he had started sweating as he swiped his messy hair from his face.

“Nephew,” Gregory said more calmly. “If it pleases you, join me at the library. I would like to have a word, and I should say that William needs his rest to recover from the shock.”

Of the stupid duel or the fact that he was now without financial means, Thomas did not care, leaving the room ahead of his uncle.

Thomas sat by the main library coffee table with his uncle, hopelessly trying to release a knot in the back of his neck as one of the servants poured tea. The smell hit his nostrils like a balm to a wound.

“Thank you, Philippe,” he said as the servant bowed and exited the room, leaving the two men by themselves.

Thomas took a long sip from his cup and let the tea go down, sighing as he gathered his thoughts. A library was no place for anger, but it had followed him from William’s room regardless.

“I don’t know what to do with him, Uncle,” he muttered, sinking back into the leather armchair, balancing the cup and saucer on his thigh. “I don’t want him to be added to the pile of bodies. I made a promise to Father. He almost… I don’t think I could ever look Mother in the eye again if he got himself killed.”

Gregory sipped his tea and smiled warmly. “At this juncture, I fear he is as likely to meet his end at your hand as he is at the Kendalls’. I don’t know what has hurt him more—the pistol shot or his severance from his monthly allowance.”

“If you are trying to amuse me out of my anger, it won’t work,” Thomas warned with a resigned attempt at a laugh. “But I thank you for your expert mediation. Imighthave strangled him if I’d stayed a moment longer.”

Gregory leaned forward to set his cup and saucer down in a more proper fashion. “You are angry because you care, because we have all seen too much violence and can see no end to it. There are lulls, we believe it is over, then…bang—it begins again. I understand your anger, Nephew. There is no judgment here.”

If Thomas had hoped that his uncle would continue to try and lighten the mood, his hope stopped there. As the most senior members of the Pratt family, they both knew that what had happened was not something that could be smoothed over with a paid fine and a few months of financial punishment. TheKendalls were not going away anytime soon, and neither was the feud.

Eighty years of its bloody history and far too many headstones bearing both surnames had taught them that.

“We can’t keep living like this, Uncle.” Thomas grimaced; it reeked of stating the obvious. “This vendetta… It will be the end of both our families. One of them, at least, and I don’t want to spend my life placing awful bets on which. It is not the dukedom I want for my children, nor Mother’s or Grandmother’s final years. They all deserve better.”

“You have a good heart, Thomas,” Gregory said. “My brother raised you well. He might have been a flawed man… stubborn, impulsive… He always moved his hand before his mind had a moment to think—a true hothead. You, on the other hand, seem to have evaded these traits, thankfully. When I said I felt your pain earlier, I meant it…”

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