Page 50 of Her Bear of a Duke

Even so, he never would have expected her betrayal.

He had not wanted to attend the ball that evening. He did not want to go into society with his father recently dead, nor did he want to hear a thousand fake apologies. He did not want to listen to the ingenuine sympathy that was bound to come his way. It was for the best that he did not go at all, and mourned in peace.

"Brother, I shall not hear any of that," Thomas groaned when Morgan told him as much. "You refuse to frequent our club with me, but you will not refuse a societal event. I am the Duke now, and I do not think I am able to do it alone."

"I do not want to hear anything more about our loss."

"It shall be worse for me in any case. They will look at me as though I am happy about it."

Morgan had to accept that. With newly titled nobility, there was always the assumption that they were more pleased to have a title bestowed upon them than they were upset at their father's loss. He knew there would be many whispers of that about Thomas, as all he had done since gaining the dukedom was go to White's and drink.

"Very well, I will go, but you are not to leave me at any point during the night. We will be there for one another, yes?"

"Of course. I promise."

But Thomas' promise meant as much as any other one he made. It had only been five minutes when he vanished, and Morgan rolled his eyes and allowed thetonto begin.

Except, to his surprise, there was no word of their loss. All that anyone cared to discuss was how awful Thomas would be as duke. The worst of it was that, though he tended to agree with the mutterings, he wanted to defend his brother. He could not, however, as it would have been viewed as an outburst and only worsen the rumors.

He stepped outside, and he considered leaving altogether, but the gardens were lovely and he decided instead to marvel at them until the evening had drawn to a close. Then, he would take Thomas sharply by the arm and leave, giving him yet another lecture that he would not listen to the following morning.

"Oh, My Lord, it is dreadful. Can you imagine it?"

He bristled. He would have recognized that voice anywhere, as it was none other than that of his betrothed. He remained still, waiting for her to pass by so that he could see who she was with, but they never did. They remained behind him, and so he turned around to look at them.

It was indeed Lady Annabelle, accompanied by a gentleman that Morgan recognized. It was David Beaufort, a Frenchman that had recently returned to accept the title of Viscount of Fremton after a relative had passed. The Fremtons were known to be incredibly wealthy, according to Thomas, and as a titled man he was precisely what Lady Annabelle had been searching for.

"I cannot fathom why you ever agreed to an engagement," Fremton laughed. "You should never have lowered yourself to that man."

"To that bear, you mean," she giggled, her fan swept across her in a way that made Morgan nauseous. "If only I had another gentleman willing to protect me from him."

"Perhaps you might soon find one."

"Perhaps I already have."

She was pressed against him, and if anyone were to see them in such a situation they would have been forced to marry one another regardless. Morgan did not love her, but he had respected her a great deal and all of that fell away at that moment. When they kissed, he felt his heart fall. Without thinking, he stepped out from hiding and strode toward them.

"Your Grace!" Lady Annabelle gasped. "This is a misunderstanding, I–"

"I have already heard everything," he sighed. "Let us not do all of this. I shall take back the ring, and the two of you may do as you please."

"But–"

"Enjoy your life together," he nodded to Fremton. "I hope that your new wife learns to speak French, as her talent as it stands is nothing to be too pleased with."

He took Lady Annabelle's hand, removed the ring from her finger, and walked away.

He never thought about her again. Mercifully, with how many escapades Thomas had, Morgan was too preoccupied to give a moment to the lady he had proposed to. She faded from memory, and then he married Dorothy, and it had all ended there.

"Morgan,

If you are reading this, then you shall be more furious with me than ever. Fortunately, I will not be around to see any of it.

I should have told you long ago that I was spending time with a lady, but I knew you would force me to marry her. I do not want to marry her, and now I must do what is necessary to avoid that.

She has a daughter. We have one, I should say. I am not prepared for that, and I have done enough to this family without adding an illegitimate child to all of it. This is the only way to fix all of this. I know that you will never forgive me, but I do not know what else to do.

When I am gone, I shall need you to provide for the lady. I know that it is yet another burden for you to take care of, but you may consider it my final unruly action. It is also the final thing that I shall ever ask of you. I must also tell you, of course, who she is, but that is where you will truly loathe me. I should have told you, and I apologize for that.

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