Page 67 of Duke of Silver
“No, it doesn’t,” Colin agreed, pouring them both another measure of brandy. “But it could be the start of him taking responsibility. Give him a chance to make amends. You know he looks up to you. He always has.”
Alexander huffed, setting his glass down on the side table with a little more force than necessary. “If this is how he shows admiration, I would prefer he keep it to himself.”
Colin chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve always been too hard on yourself—and him. Yes, Percy is reckless, but he came back, didn’t he? That has to count for something.”
A silence settled between them, Colin’s words lingering, though they did little to ease the tight knot of frustration in Alexander’s chest. As much as he wanted to believe that Percy’s return signaled something good, he couldn’t shake the feeling of failure, a failure that extended beyond his brother.
Colin’s voice broke the quiet, his tone softening. “And how is Elizabeth with all this? Percy’s sudden return must have been quite the shock for her.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened at the mention of his wife. His thoughts had been so consumed by Percy that he had scarcely allowed himself to dwell on Elizabeth’s reaction. “She was... shocked, yes,” he replied slowly, his voice low. “And I have no idea what to say to her. I feel as though I have failed her.”
Colin frowned, studying his friend carefully. “Failed her? How?”
“By not preventing any of this.” Alexander let out a frustrated sigh. “I should have done more. I should have kept Percy in line, stopped him before he could cause this scandal. But I didn’t. And now, Elizabeth bears the brunt of it.”
“She’s your wife, Alex,” Colin said, his voice gentle but firm. “She married you knowing full well the situation with Percy. You didn’t fail her.”
But Alexander shook his head. “I promised her stability, Colin. And what has she received? A marriage born of necessity, endless whispers from the ton, and now, my wayward brother returning to upset it all again.”
Colin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at Alexander earnestly. “You’re being too harsh on yourself. Elizabeth is stronger than you give her credit for. She’s handled everything with grace. She won’t hold Percy’s actions against you.”
Alexander said nothing, but Colin’s words echoed in his mind. Elizabeth had indeed been the picture of composure throughout all the chaos, but that only made the guilt gnaw at him more. He had wanted to shield her, to offer her a life free of scandal and turmoil. Instead, he felt as though he had dragged her deeper into it.
Colin stood, crossing the room to refill his glass before glancing back at Alexander. “You mustn’t carry all of this on your shoulders. You’ve done what needed to be done. You saved your family’s name, and you’ve been a husband Elizabeth can count on. Don’t let Percy’s mistakes make you doubt yourself.”
Alexander exhaled, grateful for the drink in his hand but still feeling the weight of his brother’s return pressing down on him. Colin’s words, though kind, did little to alleviate the sense of inadequacy that had been building inside him.
Before he could respond, a thought struck him. “We’re hosting a dinner tomorrow evening,” Alexander said, setting his glass down. “Elizabeth’s uncle and aunt are to join us. I would be grateful if you would attend.”
Colin raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “A family dinner? With you? I’m not certain I’m the sort of distraction your in-laws would appreciate.”
Alexander managed a faint smile. “It would be a welcome relief to have someone who isn’t directly involved in all this madness. I doubt I shall be at my best.”
Colin laughed, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Very well. I accept your invitation. I’ll do my best to lighten the mood.”
“Good,” Alexander said, nodding in appreciation. “I shall send a note to confirm the time.”
Colin leaned back in his chair, the easy smile still on his face, but as Alexander drained the last of his brandy, the unease remained, clinging to him like a shadow.
CHAPTER 30
Elizabeth paced the length of her bedchamber, her thoughts as restless as her steps. The soft padding of her slippers did little to muffle the tension crackling in the air. She had anticipated this evening—looked forwardto it. A quiet dinner with her husband, a moment where they might share something akin to normalcy. But, no. Instead, Percy had appeared, shattering the peace she had so desperately sought.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she exhaled sharply, forcing herself to calm. It wasn’t as though she should have been surprised. Percy had been meddling in her life from the very beginning—first with the scandal, and now, once again, with his untimely return. And of course, Alexander had felt the need to deal with him immediately, leaving her to dine alone.
Alone. Yet again.
Her heart twisted with disappointment, a gnawing ache that settled deep in her chest. Why did it seem that every time she thought she might have a moment with Alexander, something—or rather, someone—interfered? The first real opportunity to share a meal with him, and Percy had to barge in and ruin it. It was bad enough that his recklessness had landed her in this marriage in the first place, and now he seemed determined to upset what little happiness she had managed to find.
Elizabeth’s pacing quickened, the soft rustling of her skirts filling the room as frustration simmered beneath her skin. She halted only when the door creaked open, revealing Lydia, her lady’s maid, carrying a candle and a soft robe in her arms.
“Your Grace,” Lydia greeted her, her voice quiet yet cautious as she closed the door behind her. “Shall I prepare you for bed?”
Elizabeth nodded, though her movements were sharp, betraying the tension she struggled to contain. Lydia stepped forward, her hands deft as she began to help Elizabeth out of her gown, folding the fabric with care. As Lydia worked, her brows furrowed slightly, concern evident in her gaze as she glanced up at her mistress.
“If I may, Your Grace, you seem... troubled,” Lydia ventured cautiously, her voice gentle. “Is something amiss?”
Elizabeth stilled, her hands tightening around the edge of the dressing table. Troubled? It seemed an understatement. She was furious. Hurt. But she couldn’t very well pour all that onto Lydia’s shoulders, could she?
