Page 86 of Duke of Pride

“You want to drown yourself?” Frederick growled, dragging him out into the garden. “Then let’s do it properly.”

He led him to where a big stone trough stood full of rainwater.

Frederick didn’t hesitate. With a grunt, he shoved Stephen forward. His body fell into the trough, cold swallowing him whole.

Stephen gasped as water submerged his head, shock punching through his alcohol-fueled haze. He surfaced with a choked curse, his wet clothes clinging to him, cutting through the numbness.

“Much better,” Frederick said simply.

Then, he dragged Stephen back to his study and ordered blankets, dry clothes, and lots of tea before he started a fire.

Stephen stood on the carpet, dripping, shivering, and eyeing his brother-in-law murderously.

“What was that?” he bit out.

“Necessity.”

Minutes later, he was in dry clothes, nursing a pathetic cup of tea, staring into the fire bleakly.

“Now, listen,” Frederick said as he straightened his cuffs. “Tomorrow, I will come pick you up, and we will go to Walden Towers.”

Atthatname, Stephen stiffened and looked at him. “Walden Towers?”

“Yes,” Frederick uttered coldly. “You will bring some flowers, the engagement ring that has been in the possession of every Duke of Colborne, you will go down on your knees—bothof them—and you will beg Victoria to marry you.”

Stephen laughed bitterly.

“It is not a laughing matter,” Frederick growled. “Then, I can be with my wife, who might be giving birth even as we speak, while I am here taking care of you as ifyouwere a baby.”

“That simple?” Stephen said with malice.

“Pretty much. Any woman who managed to get the impeccable Duke of Colborne in this pathetic state must be worth it. I trust you can grovel hard enough.”

Stephen stared back into the fire. Victoria was worth it and so much more. That was why she was leaving. Why would she be the wife of the coldest man alive, who spoke of duty in his marriage proposal to the woman he loved?

He could already see it. The way her laughter would fade year by year. The way her eyes, once bright with passion and dreams, would dim under his rigid rules. Just like his father snuffed the light out of his mother’s eyes.

“So, sleep, get sober, and tomorrow?—”

“She is leaving for Prussia to study. Tomorrow.”

Frederick froze, then went to the liquor cabinet, took out the whiskey, and poured a few drops into their tea.

“She will be happy, following her dreams. I will only make her miserable,” Stephen sighed, his eyes still fixed on the flames.

“She seemed pretty miserable at the ball if you ask me.”

“That was because of me, too.”

Frederick didn’t ask him to clarify, realizing the insinuation.

“All I am asking, you thick-headed fool, is whether you told her how you feel.”

Silence.

“Thought so. Basically, you are ready to let the love of your life go in fear of humiliating yourself. Perhaps you don’t love her as much as you think, and you just enjoy dramatic gothic poets too much.”

Stephen fixed his brother-in-law with a look that would have killed a lesser man on the spot.

---