Page 52 of Trapped with the Forbidden Duke
“Heavens.” Nicholas made a tortured noise as he rubbed his hand over his face and hair, oily after days of rest and nights of seeking highs. “I have done horribly as a brother, have I not?”
Lucien’s lips pressed into a firm line. “You have endured things not many men can, and you have made mistakes. But you can change, Nicholas. For her, for yourself, you can change and do better by her. It is not too late. You are too weak to fight me, so why would you hesitate to agree?”
“What if…” Nicholas paused, biting his lip. “What if I am not ready to get better?”
“You likely are not,” Lucien allowed. “But your sister depends on it, whether you are ready or not.”
He took the glass from Nicholas, who shed a single tear and stared at the bedspread and his own hands as though he couldsee the extent of his destruction. He heaved a breath before nodding.
“I confess I am still angry, but I no longer have the energy to be,” he muttered. “I feel betrayed and played, but you are right. It is for the best.” His voice was small. “I am not ready. I am not at all ready, and I am scared at the thought of going days without—without opium. But I can try.”
He had forced out the word, as though he was not used to confessing such things aloud.
Lucien nodded. “Spend time with Edwina,” he advised. “She will want to visit you, but these will be your last few days with her in your family home. For her sake, do not spend those days on the streets of London for one last high.”
Nicholas nodded, guilt flooding his gaze as if that was exactly what he had intended to do. One last terrible hurrah before he began his recovery.
Lucien stood up, but Nicholas reached out to him. “What of our friendship?” he asked, his voice low.
Lucien only looked down at him. “I am sure that will be addressed in time. For now, focus on your recovery.”
“He has still not come downstairs,” Edwina murmured to herself, alone in the library.
She had returned her poetry book to its rightful place and had chosen another book to try and lose her thoughts in.
This time, it was a fiction novel where the heroine was a well-to-do lady who meddled in the love lives of others and became something of a matchmaker, forsaking her family’s support. Yet, Edwina’s thoughts couldn’t remain on the book properly, not when she had not seen her brother since Lucien had gone into his room.
Lucien himself had left, as per Isabel’s request before dinner, and with just Edwina and her aunt at the table, it had been a very quiet, almost awkward dinner.
There was nobody to fill the silence with, and Edwina only dutifully answered questions that her aunt posed. By now, she had finally convinced her aunt that she was not marrying to right a wrong—that wrong being the loss of her virtue.
Still, she had thought that Nicholas would come downstairs to speak with her. Did he feel so betrayed that he would not even look at her? Could he not stand to be in the same room with her so badly?
Then, her heart beat faster. The last time he had learned about Lucien being around her, he had broken the window and disappeared for hours.
Putting her worries aside, Edwina hurried to his room. Without the Duke in the house, everything felt eerie. Fresh but eerie, as if the life within Montgomery Manor had vanished with each loss, including that of her brother’s sobriety.
Knocking on her brother’s bedroom door, Edwina did not wait for him to bid her to enter. She pushed open the door and found her brother being dressed by his valet, leaning heavily on the back of a chair against his dresser.
“Thank you, Roland,” Nicholas said. “That will be all.”
Roland bowed out of the room, and Edwina took another step towards her brother. Relief flooded her at the sight of him in his room, but it was quickly replaced by worry over how he would speak to her.
What she did not expect was for Nicholas to hold her gaze, and for his expression to crumple as he crossed to her on weak legs.
And she did not expect his arms to come around her, pulling her close.
“Edwina,” he murmured, “my dear sister. Can you ever forgive me?”
Edwina blinked, surprised by the unexpected apology.
“Nicholas,” she whispered. “You are not cross with me?”
“Oh, quite,” he muttered into her shoulder. “But I am mostly cross with myself. Lucien told me several truths that I did not wish to hear but I needed to.”
He pulled back, holding her hands the way he used to do when she had been nervous about a social event, afraid of their mother’s disapproval.
“I have not considered how my… problems have affected your life, Sister. And I cannot apologize for that enough. I am sorry for everything I have put you through and the risks you’ve had to take for me. I… Well, I am struggling to live with myself over such things.”
