Page 87 of The Duke and the Unwanted Bride

“You want a bet?”

“How about this…” William smirked. “If you can lay even a single hand on me, I will happily hand you this bottle. But if you cannot, I will pour it out before your eyes in a display of brotherly love. For that is why I do this, Brother. I do it for—woah!”

He started as Frederick lunged at him.

It was the epitome of a poor display.

Sitting on the sofa in the drawing room, Frederick pushed himself to his feet and threw his body toward his brother, figuring to tackle him and then wrestle the bottle from his hand. But he had been drinking since noon, it was now nearing early evening, and the liquor had hit him a little harder than he thought.

His knees gave way beneath him. He managed to catch himself before falling, stumbled forward, attempted a leap, only to trip and land hard on his knees. Even then, attempting to push himself up, there just wasn’t enough strength in his arms. He rolled over onto his back and stare up at the ceiling… just in time for the room to begin spinning around him.

“Told you.” William stood over him, looking down at his face. “You have had more than enough.”

“I am the older brother here,” Frederick scoffed. “And I will not be spoken to like that.” He swung his hand back, thinking to smack William’s legs and declare himself the winner, only for William to easily step out of the way.

“This is for your own good.” William walked to the fireplace and uncorked the bottle, before holding it over the flames.

“No!” Frederick scrambled to his knees, reaching out a hand to stop him, but it was too late.

William poured the liquor into the flames, an act that made them roar as they consumed the flammable liquid. Heat spewed from the fireplace, which had William dancing backwards to avoid getting burned.

“Oh!” he cried. “Yes, I should have seen that coming.”

“You idiot,” Frederick snarled. “That was my last bottle!”

“A good thing, I think.”

“Now, what will I do?!”

“Sober up,” William said rightly as he put the bottle down and walked to where Frederick was still on the floor. There, he sat down cross-legged and rested a hand on his brother’s back. “For drinking this way is unbecoming of you, Brother, and I should know, seeing as I am the boozehound of the family.”

“Not anymore,” Frederick muttered bitterly.

“It is not an answer,” William sighed. “And it is certainly not a panacea. It dulls the senses, but it does not erode them, leaving them raw and exposed for when the inevitable hangover kicks in later.”

“Which is why I will drink as soon as I wake up…” Frederick groaned as he forced himself to his feet, then collapsed back onto the sofa. “It has worked well, so far.”

“Brother…” There was no humor in Willima’s voice, only worry. “This is not you. Please, you must see what you are doing.”

“And what is that?”

“Running,” he said matter-of-factly. “Running because it seems easier than facing the truth.”

“The truth?” Frederick scoffed. “The only truth is my sudden thirst, which will now go unquenched.”

“Thetruththat you miss her,” William corrected. “That you pine for her. That you cannot face the world sober because if you do, you might suddenly realize the horrible mistake you made.”

Frederick snarled. “You could not be further from thetruth, Brother.”

William snorted. “Like drinking, lies do not become you. Not even a little bit.”

Frederick bared his teeth at his brother, thinking that another rebuke was in order. But his brother fixed him with a no-nonsense glare, a clear indication that he wasn’t here to argue. What he was here for was to console, to help heal, to make sure that Frederick didn’t do anything stupid. Even if it was much too late for that…

It had been five days now since Hannah had left. Five of the worst days in Frederick’s life, and it wasn’t even close.

The first two had been the easiest, for Frederick had been able to convince himself that he had made the right choice. A hard choice but a necessary one. He and Hannah wanted different things, there was to be no getting around them, and rather than prolong the inevitable, he had made the difficult choice and ended it before there was a chance for it to become worse and more messy.

It wasn’t easy doing the right thing, but… but he told himself that she would forgive him. He had freed her, he thought. He had given her an out. Now she was free to find someone new, someone else to love, someone who might give her what he could not. And for two days, he had held that thought close, for it was all he could do to keep himself from breaking.

---