“Dead, yes,” he finished for her, a pang of grief ripping through him. “He died before the start of the season, and I inherited the title. He had no children, leaving me next in line.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her question, while still whispered, held no accusation or judgment as he had feared. There was nothing more than a desire to understand as she shared in his pain.
“I wanted to. I tried to. The pile of ashes in my fireplace serves as a testament to just how many letters I wrote trying to explain everything. I could never find the right moment. Just when I felt ready, you were engaged and had stopped responding to my letters.”
She nodded, taking in his words before asking, “Why did you hide his death?”
It was a natural next question, and he had anticipated it, but as the musicians flowed into the last movement of the sonata, he knew his time was running out. He needed an answer from her before it was over, before he was escorted out, duke or not.
“Elijah had always been a sickly child. He was no different as an adult,” his words were rushed. “I never expected him to die before marrying and having a family of his own. That is why I enlisted. By the time my mother summoned me home, Elijah had no chance of recovering. I was paralyzed by the weight of my grief and my new responsibilities. I asked my mother for time before we announced his passing. It is time I have spent familiarizing myself with the estates and my new title as well as the rules of engagement in the ton.”
“It must have been a huge adjustment,” she commented, understanding his situation better than he could have hoped for, “to go from being a captain sleeping in a tent most days to suddenly inheriting a large estate at the cost of losing your brother.”
A knot formed in his chest. In this moment he desperately wished his brother could have met her. She was the most amazing woman, and he knew Elijah would have loved her dearly. It was not the first time he had that thought. From the first time he had met Felicity, he knew that his brother would have loved her like a sister. They would have teamed up together to poke fun at him. But if he had been here, Benjamin would not have been in a position to help Felicity, and he didn’t know what to think of that.
“I am sorry, Benjamin,” she said more firmly, stopping his train of thought, “for all that you have lost. I could not imagine losing any one of my sisters.”
“Can you forgive me, Felicity? For deceiving you?”
He had not realized how much he needed her forgiveness until the words were out of his mouth. He prided himself on being a man of integrity, an honest man. It was what he had told her he was, and yet he had lied for the entirety of their relationship, even if it was just a lie of omission. In the warm light of the ballroom, he could not seem to remember why it had been so important to wait to announce his brother’s passing.
“Had I been truthful with you,” he said, cutting off whatever she was about to say, “we could have avoided this entire situation. You shared your secrets with me, telling me of the pressures you were under to marry a rich nobleman, all the while, I was a rich nobleman. Had I told you who I really was, maybe you would have never gotten engaged to Lord Roberts.”
“Yes, but had you told me, I would have had to compete with the rest of the ton for your attention. An eligible duke is a highly sought-after man. You would not have had the time for me. We would have never exchanged letters. I might have known your title, but I would not have known you. Benjamin, I cannot be angry for you wanting time to grieve your brother. Nor can I be upset that you needed time to adjust to being the duke. I see no need for my forgiveness, but you have it all the same.”
The music stopped then. The crowd’s murmurs began to grow once more, and he could feel their audience begin to shift. His time was up.
“Felicity, please, tell me. Do you want to marry Lord Roberts? Do you love him? Do you feel anything for me at all, even in the deepest parts of you?”
He was close to begging, but he did not care. Even in the midst of the worst battles, he had not begged. Even when he was left starving and dying in a war prison, he refused to beg. But this, this was different. Whatever words came out of her next would determine the rest of his life.
“All I want, Benjamin,” she said, giving him no cues as to what she was thinking, “is to marry the man I love.”
His heart plummeted. All of his efforts in coming here tonight were of no use. She did not love him. Despite all the evidence he felt he had to prove otherwise, she wanted this marriage to Lord Roberts. His midnight guest had been wrong as had Nicholas and his mother. He too had read too much into their correspondence and the few conversations they had shared in person. They all meant nothing to her as she loved another man.
He had nothing left to say. He felt every bit the fool after confessing all he had to her. Without the dance to distract them or keep them in conversation, there was nothing left for him to do. With a curt nod, he unwrapped his arms from around her, committing the feel of her in his arms to memory, and bowed. Taking a step back, he looked at her one last time, trying to memorize every line and curve of her face as he would not allow himself to look again once he turned. Another beat passed, and he knew it was time to go. He had made enough of a spectacle as it was. Perhaps he could convince his mother to accompany him to their summer estate. He could run things well enough from there. He was sure he could not face the rest of the season knowing that Felicity would marry another.
He twisted on his foot and turned, head held high but seeing nothing. It was the same numbness that settled in after the end of a long battle. Now was the time to return to safety, care for the wounded, and strategize what his next move would be. Only this time, he did not know if he could survive these wounds.
He took another step only to find a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He could not face her again, so he froze, waiting on bated breath to see what she would do next.
“Benjamin,” she called softly.
He reveled in the way she said his name. It was musical and wistful. If anything, he was grateful she stopped him if only so he could hear her say his name once more.
She tugged on him, her grip firm and unyielding. He had no choice but to spin back to face her. He still could not call air into his lungs. Her hand dropped from his shoulder and swung at her side. She cocked her head and sent him a warm smile as if she was trying to reassure him that his fears were baseless.
“I love you.”
He sucked in a breath. Surely, he did not hear her correctly.
“Say it again,” his voice was gruff and demanding, but he could do nothing to control it.
He needed to hear those words again more than he needed to breathe.
“I love you, Benjamin.”