Page 35 of Yours Always
His arm slipped back around her waist, his other hand rising to cradle the back of her head, gently, steadying her. He leaned forward, slowly, afraid to move too fast, afraid to break whatever fragile, aching thing this moment had become. He felt her breathcatch. He heard the soft, startled sound she made as their lips met.
Her scent wrapped around him; peppermint, hearth smoke, and something warm, clean and wholly her. The taste of her kiss chased every thought from his mind. It was dizzying. Devastating. Beautiful.
He pulled back just enough for his forehead to rest against hers. Their breaths mingled in the stillness. His chest rose and fell against hers, drawn together like waves pulled by the same tide. “I am so sorry,” he said hoarsely. “Lizzy, I shouldn’t have—”
Her hand slid up the back of his neck, and before he could finish the apology he didn’t mean, her mouth found his again. This time, it wasn’t soft. It was fire. Breathless need, aching want, and years of confusion and silence unraveling in a kiss that left him undone. He kissed her like it was the only moment he’d ever be allowed to. Because he believed it was. He couldn’t pull her close enough. He couldn’t separate his heartbreak from hers. And then, just as suddenly as it began—she was gone.
Matthew blinked, and she was already across the room, slipping through the door. Her silhouette vanished down the corridor like a dream pulled from his hands. Matthew remained where she left him, motionless in the chair, chest heaving, hands still curled around the memory of her.
Chapter 21
Matthew stood in the doorwayof Robert’s study, waiting silently until the older man finally looked up from the ledgers spread across the desk. Robert’s hair looked grayer than it had the day before. His eyes were hollow. The deep lines in his face etched deeper now, carved by a grief no words could soften. He looked like a man who had aged a decade overnight. But, still he was here; sleeves rolled, spectacles perched low on his nose, tending to the affairs that needed tending. Because someone had to.
Matthew cleared his throat softly, “Sir?” Robert blinked, as if surprised to find him standing there. Then he waved him in with a weary flick of the hand. “Come in, son. Sit.”
Son.The word struck like a hammer to Matthew’s chest.
He nodded stiffly and stepped inside, crossing the room with slow, deliberate strides. He sank into the chair opposite Robert’s, the same chair he’d sat in as a boy learning his sums, asking advice about horses, about land, about love. It had always been Robert Weston who steadied him and treated him like one of his own. Who made a place for him in a world that hadn’t quite known where to put him.
Last night when Sarah fled from him, eyes wide and trembling with something too close to fear, he had nearly turned and run. Back to Scotland. Back to the wreckage of his own making. Back to the solitude where the ache couldn’t touch anyone but him. But then he had seen Robert. This hollowed man, bent beneath the weight of loss no father should ever carry.
Sarah would have the Duke.
Victoria had Robert.
But Robert would carry this alone.
Matthew couldn’t leave, not now.
Robert scrubbed a hand across his face, leaning back in the chair with a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his bones. “We’ve got a good deal of work ahead of us,” he said gruffly. “Arrangements to make. Papers to settle. Tenants to reassure.” Matthew nodded, curling his hands into fists in his lap to keep them from trembling. “I will help however you need me to,” he said quietly. “You have my word.” Robert’s mouth pulled into something like a smile, but it just fell short. “I know you will.”
He pushed one of the ledgers across the desk with a slow, deliberate hand. “I need you to look at Somerton. The transfer was not yet complete, but…” The words caught. He swallowed hard. “I am thinking of selling it.” Matthew stilled, the idea of selling Somerton settled like a weight in his chest. The land they’d ridden across as boys. The place Ben had poured hisfuture into. It would feel like burying him twice. “I understand why you would want to,” Matthew said slowly. “But maybe don’t make any decisions just yet.”
Robert’s gaze lifted, sharpened even, through the haze of grief. “And leave it sitting there like a ghost?” Matthew hesitated. He hadn’t meant to strike a nerve. “I just think, in time, it might not feel the same way.” He chose the words carefully, gently, each one placed like a footstep in fresh snow.
Robert’s expression fractured slightly. “In time, maybe.” He winced as though the words tasted foreign. Silence descended, broken only by the slow crackle of the fire behind them. Matthew lowered his gaze to the ledger, but the numbers blurred. All he could see was Benjamin. His grin. His laugh. The way he used to nudge Matthew in the ribs and tease him about everything and nothing. Matthew shut his eyes for a moment, steadying himself. He wasn’t here for his grief, he was here for Robert’s.
Robert’s voice came again, softer now. “I know you loved him too, Matthew.” Matthew’s throat closed, unable to speak. “He loved you like a brother,” Robert said, folding his hands tightly on the desk. “And if he were here he would have told you himself, that you are every bit as much my son as he.” Matthew’s breath hitched. He bowed his head, gripping the edge of the ledger until his knuckles went white. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Robert leaned back, the firelight deepening the wear on his face. “I couldn’t have asked for a better man to walk alongside him.” The words split something open inside him. He had promised to protect Benjamin. He had promised to protect Sarah. He had even promised to protect Mary. And he had failed them all.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save him,” Matthew said, the words raw. “I should have done more—” Robert cut him off, his voice quiet and strained, but heavy with feeling. “You did all any man could do.” Matthew looked up, and in Robert’s eyes, he foundsomething he hadn’t known he’d lost, a measure of grace and a flicker of strength.
Robert leaned forward, one hand resting firm and steady on the desk. “I need you, Matty. I can’t do this alone.” Matthew nodded, forcing the grief down far enough to steady his voice. “You’re not alone,” he said. “I’m here. I will handle Somerton. The tenants. Whatever you need.”
Robert hesitated, but just for a breath. “And Sarah, too.” His voice heavy as if he knew the full weight of the words he had spoken.
Sarah, who had kissed him and run.
Sarah, who had lost everything.
Sarah, who needed someone steady, which was something Matthew was no longer sure he could be.
He couldn’t find the words, but he nodded in agreement. He would stay. He would fight. For Robert. For Grace. For Sarah. Even if it meant living with a heart that might never fully heal.Robert gave a faint, fractured smile, then leaned back into his chair. “For now,” he said softly, “that is enough.”
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Sarah paced the length of the upstairs corridor, arms wrapped tightly around herself. She ought to have returned to her room, laid down and at least tried to rest, but the thought of being alone knowing that Benjamin’s room now sat empty, made her feel hollow and cold.
