Page 93 of The Duke and the Temporary Bride

He remembered little of his parents, but what he did remember was that his father often spoke about the importance of their name and standing, what this honor meant to not just their family but to all of England, and how imperative it was that they lived up to it, no matter what.

Benedict had been twelve when the accident occurred, but that did not stop him from dedicating his life to proving himself worthy of the legacy his deceased parents left him. His brother, eight at the time, was a different case, which was why Benedict was so determined to guide and help him in any way that he could.

Edmund might not have seen the importance of being treated this way, but that did not negate the importance that Benedict felt. He would do anything for his brother… even abandon the only woman he had ever loved.

“Now, if you do not mind…” He waved his brother away. “I have much work to do if we are to rebound from tonight’s events with some semblance of dignity.”

Still, his brother did not leave. “Dignity? Is that all you care about?”

“What else is there?”

“You know, I do not remember much of our parents, Benedict. You are the one with that privilege. But do you know what I do remember?”

Benedict sighed. “If you tell me, will you then leave me alone?”

“That they were happy,” Edmund stated matter-of-factly. “That was their legacy. Not this—” He indicated the room, the manor—everything. “A happy marriage is what they left behind, and everything else…” He shrugged. “I don’t think they cared for it.”

“It is a good thing that you cannot remember them then,” Benedict said coolly, ignoring the pang in his chest. “Because I can assure you that was not the case.”

Edmund shrugged again. “If you say so.” He turned and started back toward the door. “Oh, and one more question.”

Benedict groaned. “Do I have a choice?”

“Say this little scandal does blow over. That people forget about it. Heck, that I fall in love with a fine lady and get married.” Edmund looked right at him. “What will you do?”

Benedict blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I asked. What will you do, come next year? Or the year after that? Or ten years from now, when nobody can remember anything of tonight? Save convincing yourself over and over again that you have lived up to our parents’ legacy and honored their good name, that is.” Edmund raised an eyebrow, let the question sink in, and then popped open the door and walked out.

Benedict stared at the space his brother had just occupied, wanting to dismiss the question as unimportant, but unable to ignore the crushing reality of its truth.

Was it possible that he had been wrong this entire time? That his entire life and everything he had worked toward was a lie? He had truly believed that it was his duty to look after his brother and protect him, that doing so was what his parents would have wanted. That nothing else mattered so long as he honored their legacy and proved himself worthy.

Truthfully, he had not thought much of the other side of that coin. His marriage. Whether or not he and Selina were happy. How important that happiness had been.

He had equated his reputation to his name only, thinking that would be his legacy. But was it possible that his actual legacy might come from finding someone to share his life with? That falling in love, being happy for a damn change, was the real prize his parents wanted for him?

A shame it is too late now. Even if I wanted to apologize, my pride would not let me. Besides, after the way I treated Selina, I do not expect her to forgive me. I do not deserve such grace as that.

Theirs was not a relationship built on communication, and thus he knew that the chances of them talking this through were unlikely. It was not too late to say something… but then Benedict came to realize that one truth above all had been spoken in earnest earlier tonight.

He was a coward. And for that reason, he stayed in his study, lamenting what had happened, knowing that while something could be done, he was not going to do it. And thus, his ambition to live up to his parents’ legacy was yet another failure in a very long list of failures that would come to define him for the rest of his days.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Selina sat over her desk, staring at the blank piece of parchment as she tried to decide what she wanted to say. To keep it vague and lie? Or to tell the truth because not doing so was what caused this mess in the first place?

She was saved from having to come to a decision when a soft knock sounded at the door. The sound of it had her head snapping up, but it did not send her heart racing or have her stomach knotting, for she did not think for one moment it might be her husband.

She knew him better than that.

“Your Grace,” a male voice spoke as the door creaked open.

“Ah, Lord Edmund.” She smiled as she pushed her chair back. “Good morning.”

“Please, call me Edmund.”

“Only if you promise to call me Selina,” she said as she stood up.

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