Page 102 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
She does not pity me, and I think I love her more for it.
The thought struck him so hard that he could not breathe for a moment.
Love.
He could not subject Eleanor to something like that. He did not even know if he was capable of love at all.
“It is not,” he finally agreed, sighing. “But it is what happened. I tried to protect Anna from the worst of it, and I succeeded mostly. My father went to me. I was a boy. I could take it, according to him, and I grew up with that mindset—that Ihadto take it. If I did not, then Anna would, and she… she…”
“It is all right,” Eleanor whispered. “Spencer, we do not have to discuss any of this.”
“No, I want to,” he insisted, even though he sounded so choked up. “I want to. Because Anna was beautiful, and she was the light of my life, and she deserves better than to be put in a box, locked away, because of how painful it is.
“I tried to protect her, Eleanor, and I could not. No matter how much I tried to block my father’s path to her, no matter how many blows I took to prevent her from receiving them, he still targeted us both. I was afraid to leave Everdawn for anything, scared of what I would come home to, scared of what my father would have done in my absence. And then it happened.”
Spencer was no longer on the terrace. He was far away, watching the crackle of the fire in Anna’s bedroom.
“He knew I was occupied downstairs with Charlotte. She was four years old back then, already forgotten by our mother—another unwanted child. He sought Anna out, an-and when the screams began, I ran. I ran, and yet I was still too slow, too late. By the time I got there, she was on the floor, her face almost unrecognizable for how badly he had beaten her. Blood—Heavens, the blood was everywhere. It is uncanny to see one’s face in death, for we truly were mirrors of one another.
“Her eyes were staring up, and I swear they still held the pain even when her heart stopped. When that final beat pulsed, I stopped. My entire world stopped. And then I heard his footsteps behind me. I do not remember moving, do not remember how I got from cradling my sister to having my father strung up by the throat.”
“Spencer,” Eleanor whispered, and he realized he had gripped her hand too tight. He tried to let go, but she held on tighter.
“I dared him to kill me too,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “At one point, I recall begging him to, for my soul had alreadybeen split apart. There was no use dragging it around for the rest of my miserable life. But my coward of a father ran. Out of the room that day, and then out of Society altogether. He sent Charlotte to live with my aunt. She was too young to remember Anna, I believe, although she knows we had another sibling.
“Once my mother died a year or so after, my father retreated to the countryside. Once I had the chance to leave, knowing Charlotte was safe and my father would rot from the inside out with guilt, I did. I went all over the world, abandoning London, Society, my role, an-and Charlotte.”
“She has harbored bitterness toward you ever since,” Eleanor filled in.
Spencer nodded. “I wrote to her often and at length, always updating her, but a letter is hardly enough when a young girl wonders why her brother is not in her life. I spent those years never finding a home. How could I? Home was make-believe. Home should have been Everdawn, and it proved to be a hell of a place. I traveled and I drank until I could not see straight. Until I blacked out most of the time.”
He swallowed back his shame, shaking his head.
“Every time the voices got too loud and I reminded myself how I had not saved my sister, I drank. I forgot myself in other women’s bed and let go of Spencer Vanserton, the heir to the Duke of Everdawn.”
Eleanor’s face paled at his mention of other women, but she never once let go.
“The other night, over dinner, you mentioned not recalling some of Charlotte’s reentry into Society,” she noted. “Why?”
“I was still hiding,” he said. “Everybody wanted answers. I admit that I only wanted more brandy at the time. More drink to take the pain away. I came back when I was thirty-one to oversee her reentry, but I was not always the best, most present man. Even now, our relationship is not whole, but we pretend it is because we wish it was.” He sighed.
“I was likely too drunk to recall a lot of it, too. That is another reason why I blame myself for Charlotte’s involvement with Lord Follet. Had I… been more thorough?—”
“No.” Eleanor’s tone was sharp enough to make him pause. “No, donotblame yourself for that. You told me—and very firmly—that you looked into him. If Lord Follet appeared clean, it is because he is excellent at misdirecting even the smartest, most thorough of searches. Spencer, I am sorry for what you went through, but you cannot carry the blame for that. Nor for Anna’s death.” Her face softened. “You were only a child. You were not supposed to carry the weight of your father’s anger.”
Those last words struck him hard enough that he had to blink away the tears in his eyes. He quickly looked away from her, but trust had him looking back.
“You have anchored me far tighter than I ever thought was possible,” he whispered. “For once, Eleanor, you make me feel as though I do not want to run from something painful. You make me feel?—”
At home for the first time in my life.
You aremy home.
“I know,” she answered just as softly. “I know, Spencer.”
Between them, the music box continued playing, and their dinner had long gone cold, yet Spencer stood up, taking his wife’s hand.
“Dance with me,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t try to fight it off. His mind felt so clear, so unburdened, at least for the moment. “Let me give you your first new happy memory of music. Dance with me, Eleanor.”
