Page 92 of The Duke and the Temporary Bride

Edmund poked his head around the door. He wore a concerned frown, and the way he lingered without walking inside was indicative of that concern. “I heard what happened.”

Benedict scoffed. “Did you, now?”

“To be fair, I think the entire manor heard it. And the neighboring estate. Perhaps a few keen ears in London, too.”

“She does have a temper on her, doesn’t she?”

“I meant you, Brother.” Edmund finally stepped into the study and closed the door softly behind him. “Do you wish to speak about it?”

“I do not see the point.”

“It might help?”

“I am well beyond help.”

“Perhaps it is not me who you should speak to.” Edmund raised an eyebrow at him. “If you catch my meaning?”

Benedict’s lip curled. “That is not an option—and please, Edmund, do me a favor and do not choose this moment to suddenly transform into a bastion of brotherly love and support. Twenty-eight years of being the one to look out for you and I do not need you to attempt to return the favor. Not now. Not for this.”

Edmund lingered in the middle of the study, his hands folded behind his back, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. His expression was hard-set, contemplative in a way that told Benedict that this conversation was far from being over.

“Perhaps that is the problem,” he said. “Twenty-eight years and it is high time that someone looks after you for a change.”

Benedict scoffed. “I do not need to be looked after. What I need is to be left alone.”

“Forever, if what I heard just now is how you chose to leave things.”

“And why wouldn’t I?” Benedict glared warningly at his brother, even though his heart was not in it.

He wished to be resolved in what had just happened. To be glad for it, as if it was what he had wanted all along. Yet, the way his stomach churned was all the proof he needed to confirm his true feelings.

Benedict had made a tremendous mistake.

A shame that I am too stubborn and proud to do anything about it.

“I appreciate what you tried to do for me,” Edmund continued solemnly. “But you need to realize, Benedict, there is no need. We are not children anymore, and the fact that you still choose to behave as if we are is?—”

“That is not what I am doing!” Benedict snapped.

Edmund paused, ensuring that his brother would allow him to finish speaking. “It is no reason to throw away a relationship that, to be quite honest with you, is beyond anything I might have imagined possible.”

Benedict felt his chest tighten and looked away as if his brother’s advice angered him. “That has nothing to do with it. The simple fact is that mine and Selina’s relationship reached its natural end…” His chest tightened even further, and he continued to look away. “We never intended to remain together, and although I do regret how things ended, it has nothing to do with you.” He then forced himself to look at his brother, a determined gaze to put a final point on the matter. “Nothing.”

“Is that so?” Edmund did not sound as if he believed it.

“It is.” Benedict nodded once. “And I will thank you to drop this… whatever it is you are doing. I do not need you to look out for me, Edmund. That is not how this relationship works.”

“Ah, because you are the one who looks out for me.”

Benedict glared warningly at his brother, desperate for him to drop this brotherly charade because he was not in the mood!

Why was it so hard for Edmund to understand that he was only doing this for him? And while Benedict might not admit it out loud, that included what had happened between him and Selina.

That was how it had always been, ever since they were children… ever since the accident that had killed their parents. Before the accident, things had been different, and Benedict had never imagined the kind of man he would become, but a near-death experience and being thrust unexpectedly into adulthood changed that.

It was a carriage accident. Benedict, his mother, and his father had been riding one night when one of the horses had a fright and bolted suddenly. This made the carriage lurch forward and tip over, and the oil lantern that was inside shattered and set the carriage on fire.

The scars that Benedict bore now were the result of that accident, as was his changed persona.

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