Page 4 of The Damsel
Shock had overwhelmed him for a moment. He had assumed William must be sowing his oats in London, helping himself to the Covent Garden doxies like every other man they knew. But then he realized he’d never actually seen William pursue a woman for any reason. Outside the obligatory dances and mundane conversation, he’d never shown romantic interest inanywoman.
“Men?” he’d murmured, his eyes going wide.
William gave a swift nod, but seemed to have a hard time meeting his eye. “You cannot tell Mother or Father.”
“Of course not! Your secret is safe with me.”
No matter how unorthodox it may seem, he could never see William as anything other than his brother—his best friend. They’d grown close following the deaths of Andrew and Jonas, and nothing could change that.
“Is there someone you fancy?” he’d asked.
He’d wanted William to know he didn’t disapprove or judge him for feelings beyond his control. If his brother could not speak of it with their parents, then Robert would be his listening ear.
William had flushed and finally met his gaze. “There is, but … he doesn’t know. I’ve been too afraid to tell him.”
“Oh, but you must tell him,” he’d urged. “Does he … have the same inclinations as you?”
“I’m almost certain he does.”
“Then you must—”
“I’m Father’s heir, Robert,” William had interjected. “That will require a baroness, a son, I can't …”
He’d brought a hand down on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed. “Love is more important than any of it.You should be with the person you want most. If there is a chance he feels the same way, youmusttake a chance. I want to see you happy, Will.”
His brother had nudged him in the ribs with a sly smirk. “Is it that you want me to be happy … or thatyouwant to inherit the barony?”
“Perhaps I do,” he’d said with a chuckle.
That had been the last time he had laughed with his brother. Within days of Christmas, he returned to them in a wooden box with a hole in his chest from a knife wound.
Having left to spend what remained of his holiday in London with a few Oxford chums, he had become the victim of a brutal stabbing. One of the friends who had been with him in Town had accompanied William’s body back home. Standing in the drawing room with his hat in his hands, he’d explained to what was left of the Stanley family how their loved one had met his end.
“We were leaving a gaming hell when we heard a scream from down a nearby alley. William did not think twice—you should know that about him. He was brave until the very last, running right toward the scream intending to help. It was a lady under attack by some bleeder after her jewels. William wrestled him off her, and screamed at us to get the lady to safety. Two of us took her off to hail a hack and make sure she was all right. By the time I returned, William had been stabbed, and … I am so sorry.”
He hung his head and wept, while Robert choked on the tight knot of grief welling in his throat. For a moment, he wondered if this young man might be the one William had loved. The way he wept, as if mourning someone dear to him, Robert knew he had to be. It only made this all the more tragic, as he’d never know whether his brother had made his feelings known.
He clung to his mother, who sat staring into the hearth as if she hadn’t heard a word. The baron buried his face in his hands to smother his own gut-wrenching sobs. The empty space that had opened within him after Andrew’s death and grew all the more with Jonas’, now seemed big enough to rip him in two.
Robert held the baroness in his arms and rocked her as he might a child, feeling how she trembled from the strain of it all, hearing the muffled whimpers of the sobs she tried her best not to let out.
William’s friend declined an invitation to stay the night, stating he had family nearby and would lodge with them until he was ready to return to university. He would be near at hand if they needed him, and of course would attend William’s funeral.
The shock of it kept Robert quite numb in the hours following, his mind reeling as the implications of this sank in. He was now the remaining son of Lord and Lady Stanley—the baron’s sole heir.
Wandering into the drawing room where William’s body had been placed for the time being, he felt the first sting of tears.
“It isn’t supposed to be like this,” he rasped, gazing down at William’s corpse.
Even in death, his brother was regal and handsome—broad shouldered, tall, with the sort of rugged features the ladies swooned over behind their fans. Robert would never hear him laugh again, never suffer William's teasing over his softer, romantic sensibilities.
“I’m not supposed to be the heir. You are. And … and I am not supposed to be alone in this world. You should be here, damn it! You and Andrew, and Jonas …”
He went down to his knees, a sob ripping through him like the unfurling of a great storm. It was as if he felt it all for the first time— all three deaths and the horror of them crushing down upon him at once.
This was how the baroness found him, kneeling on the floor and sobbing so hard he could hardly breathe, his eyes clouded by a neverending stream of tears.
She stood at his side, one hand stroking his golden curls as he leaned into her, clinging tight to her skirts. Her own, softer cries mingled with his own, her hand shaking as she stroked his hair.
