Page 36 of Duke of Chaos

“I know nothing of balance,” she continued, speaking candidly, “But I do know about sacrifice, and I am not sad or bitter about that. Alice is now married to the love of her life and in just a few months Juliet will be the same. That is worth it to me.”

“And what of you?” He asked.

Ezra was acutely aware that Lydia’s hand still rested calmly against his neck, and he could feel her fingers slowly rubbing at a tense muscle there. It both soothed and bothered him to have her hand placed upon him so intimately, but he fought through the urge to push her hand away. Instead, he drew in a steadying breath and brought his hand up to cup her cheek.

“What about me?” Lydia repeated, her cheeks blushing as his palm caressed over her soft skin.

He watched her chin lower subtly toward his palm as if wanting to nuzzle into it, and he felt another needle of light puncture a hole through his heart.

“Where is your happy ending?” he asked, letting his thumb stroke her bottom lip.

Lydia did not respond as they continued to look into one another’s eyes and gave him a small shrug.

“My happiness lies within my accomplishments,” she whispered, her eyes full of sincerity. “And I have accomplished much, even with so little.”

Admiration and a touch of awe swept through Ezra as he saw the raw truth in her gaze. He stood there, unable to form a thought or words to say to the beautiful, strong woman before him. Suddenly though, discomfort swept through him like a strong wind, sending away all other emotions, and he pulled his hand swiftly from her face.

As he did so, he realized that he’d used his wounded hand, and though she’d just washed and bandaged it, a smear of his blood had been left across her cheek. He stared at it, the sight somehow stirring the beast of arousal that had become dormant. He watched as Lydia slowly brought her hand up to her cheek, delicately touched her fingertips to the blood, and brought it to her face to examine. He waited for her disgust or jest, but she only stared at it objectively.

“Enough of me,” she said, waving her blood-dipped fingertips before him, “Tell me what we are going to do about this.”

Needing to get out of the room and away from the strange feelings that were encompassing him, Ezra drew his kerchief from his pocket and tossed it to her carelessly before turning to the door.

“Like I said,” he growled, unable to look back as he reached the door, “I will take care of it.”

CHAPTER TEN

“Say it again,” Ezra demanded, his voice as deadly and hollow as his gaze.

Morgan, Duncan, and Ambrose exchanged tired glances before they collectively looked back at Ezra in defeat.

“We’re sorry, mate,” Morgan replied, his tone full of remorse as he gave Ezra a pitiful look.

“We misread you and your intentions,” Duncan admitted, looking gravely serious.

“We should have thought better of you,” Ambrose chipped in, shaking his head, “We should have simply spoken with you first.”

It was the day after the masquerade ball and although Ezra and Lydia had only been expecting Duncan, Alice and Beau, every member of their peculiar little family had arrived. Lydiahad immediately taken the women and children with her to the gardens to give the men their privacy, but Ezra had caught the worried look on her face right before she left. After last night’s accusations from Alice and Duncan, both were wary of an impending coup.

An apology, though, was something Ezra had never expected. Ezra looked steadily at his friends, taking a moment to enjoy the regret and shame on their faces. They had jumped to their judgments too quickly, and even if it was just for a few moments, he wanted them to wallow in that misery.

“Bloody hell, old boy, you are torturing us,” Duncan said with a tense laugh. “Forgive us, will you?”

“Let us get back to who we were,” Ambrose insisted, leaning forward anxiously in his chair, “Before all of this. We are brothers. This is not how we should be.”

Deciding that he had tortured his friends enough, Ezra picked up one of his pens and tossed it at Ambrose.

“Of course, I forgive you, you twits,” he remarked when Ambrose jumped at the pen hitting his chest. “Who else is going to let me beat them to a bloody pulp when I need a row? Just do not behave like such idiots the next time.”

A collective sigh of relief seemed to pour out of Ezra’s three friends. As they all stood up to converge on him they let out rueful laughs.

“I remember a time or two when you were bested,” Duncan retorted mockingly, though the relief was clear in his eyes.

He reached out his hand to Ezra, and he allowed the strong, customary handshake.

“And I remember thirty or forty times when you were outdone, my brother,” Ezra remarked.

Duncan let out a deep chuckle as Morgan made some sort of jest about a wick-dipping tour and Ambrose tried to bring up an issue with one of their ventures. Ezra felt his earlier discomfort dissipate as he began to jest with his friends to reinstate the earlier balance in their relationship. Trust was not something they would earn back all at once by any means, but for now, he was willing to let them attempt to do so.

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