Page 19 of The Duke's Concealed Vow
“Of course,” he said. “Let us go into the parlour.”
Rowan nodded, following Harry silently the rest of the way to the parlor. Harry motioned for Rowan to sit while he poured them each a glass of whiskey. Rowan accepted his gratefully, savoring the moment before he began speaking as the two men drank from their tumblers.
“I suppose that you and Louisa have heard the news,” Rowan finally blurted, not seeing any sense in banal pleasantries.
Harry nodded solemnly, resting his drink on his knee.
“Louisa received your mother’s letter yesterday,” he said.
Rowan nodded at the confirmation.
“I suspected as much,” he said. “And I have no doubt the news was not well received.”
Harry shook his head, his eyes filled with concern.
“Louisa loves you dearly, Rowan,” he said. “As do I. We are simply concerned at the suddenness of it all. You never even mentioned a young lady that had caught your attention. What could make you come to such a big decision so quickly?”
Rowan sighed heavily. He still was not ready to discuss hisreasons. But he supposed he had little choice right then. He just hoped he could trust his brother-in-law to not tell his mother what he was about to say.
“Father and I argued about me refusing to marry the day he died,” he said. “And I have never stopped feeling guilty about it. I promised myself that I would spend the rest of my life fully devoted to my ducal duties. Especially this one.”
Harry nodded, swirling his drink before he took another drink.
“That is commendable, Rowan,” he said. “But why did you make the decision so suddenly? And why this particular young lady?”
Rowan bit his lip. He was already struggling with the pieces he had deigned to tell his brother-in-law. He was not sure he wanted Harry to know everything. He worried that his sister and her husband might think him mad if he told them everything. Besides, it felt like a secret he should keep just between the late Lady Caroline and himself.
“It will be a good match,” he said. “And I know that’s what Father wanted. What better wife could I choose besides the diamond of the season?”
Harry sipped his drink, looking thoughtful. He listened intently as Rowan spoke, and it felt good for him to get some of the thoughts he had been having over the past few years, and especially the last few days, out of his head. But he could not bring himself to speak of the part of the promise related to Lady Caroline. Even though he knew it would likely explain a great deal more about why he had chosen Lady Serena specifically.
“Brother, I trust that you are doing what you feel is best for you,” he said when Rowan had finished his partial explanation for his reasoning. “But I must say that even so, you look as though you are just as surprised by this turn of events as I am. If there is something you are not telling me that would allow me tohelp you, please tell me now.”
Rowan sighed, shaking his head. There was plenty he wasn’t telling Harry, that much was true. But Rowan could spell out every single word, and Harry would still be unable to help.
“There is nothing with which you can help,” he said. “It is for the best. It is just a little overwhelming, now that it is all becoming very real.”
Harry nodded. While he looked no more convinced than he had a moment ago, he appeared as though he was more understanding.
“I can imagine that something so big happening so suddenly might overwhelm a man,” he said. “Just remember that I am here for you, always. Even if all I can do is pour you a drink and let you pour out your troubles. But if you want my full assistance, I need you to be open and honest with me.”
Rowan smiled at his brother-in-law, reaching over, and patting him on the back.
“Thank you, Brother,” he said. He had no intention of being completely honest with Harry, or anyone, for a very long time. Perhaps never. But he appreciated the kindness, and it felt good to know that there were those who loved and supported him, even then.
A short time later, Rowan arrived back at his London townhouse. He slipped in through the front door, careful to make as little noise as possible as he made his way through the front hall. He thought of sitting in the drawing room and observe the view of the courtyard from the window there. But as he set foot inside the threshold of the room, he saw his mother sitting with her hands folded atop a book she had not bothered to open, directly facing the door.
An awkward silence stretched between them, and Rowan desperately wished that he’d just gone to his chambers, instead.
Finally, the dowager spoke.
“Tomorrow marks the anniversary of your father’s passing,” she said. Her voice was calm and level, but the storm brewing in her eyes struck Rowan in the heart. Guilt washed over him as he realized he had completely lost track of the month. His face turned bright red as he scrambled to pluck words from his mind.
“Mother, I—I did not realise,” he said, shame tripping each word. “I mean, I knew when, I just did not know that it was already… I am sorry, Mother. Please, forgive my forgetfulness.”
Another tense silence filled the room, and Rowan considered simply turning away and locking himself in his chambers after all, even though the damage was already done. But then, his mother’s eyes filled with a spark of hope, and she gave him a tentative smile.
“Would you at least go with me to place flowers upon his grave?” she asked.
Rowan was nearly rendered to the floor as familiar grief and guilt hit him like tumultuous waters against a ship’s hull. He leaned against the door frame to keep himself upright, averting his gaze from his mother’s.
“I am sorry, but I cannot,” he mumbled. “I have pressing business matters to attend to.”
The dowager’s shoulder’s slumped, and Rowan glanced up to see the hope in her eyes fading right before his own. His heart squeezed, and he looked away again.
A moment later, his mother silently rose from her seat and crossed the room, not making eye contact with him as she exited the room. As she stepped past him, he caught the scent of her perfume, a lilac scent that his father had bought her when Rowan was just a boy. It reminded him of happier times, when his father was alive, and his mother was as loving and doting as any mother could ever be. He watched her walk regally but quickly away from him, wishing there were something he could do to bridge the chasm between them. But deep down, he did notbelieve that would ever be possible.
