Page 94 of In Need of a Duke
“Me?” he scoffed. “You told me you returned because you needed an heir.”
“I have one. That’s you. Or it will be if you would stop trying to off yourself between the port and the racing. Now knives are involved, and I think it’s getting out of hand.”
“That’s because of all the women,” Nathaniel added.
The quip fell flat, filling the silence between them for a moment.
“I love Charlotte, enough if you would believe, to burn down the rest of London for her. I am back for her, to win her heart. And I cannot do that if I am solely here in need of an heir. I need her to understand that I want her above all else, even if that means the title falls to you one day.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m asking you to reconsider. I’m asking you to turn everything around and be a man worthy of the title because I know you are. I know you’ve lost your way a bit, but it’s only because that happened to me as well. No more drinking, no gambling, no more racing.”
“You want the title to go to me?”
“I want children.” His voice trembled, realizing how much he would give up. “But I need Charlotte to understand how much I love her more. I can’t lose her again. And I won’t let the opinions of others interfere any longer.”
“That’s noble of you.”
No, not noble. It was selfish, but he wasn’t above admitting he wanted her and would do whatever necessary to see her happy.
“Nate, you have to stop hurting yourself. No more drinking. Start there. We can handle the rest together.”
His brother’s jaw ticked as he glared at the fireplace. “I don’t know if she’ll trust me any longer. I’m scared.”
Ian stood, gathering the handkerchief and folding it up into his pocket. “I know. But do you remember what Lottie told you? You’re family. We’re here?—”
“I am in love with a courtesan, Ian. You make it all sound so easy.Am I to leave here a cured man and move on from Arabella? Because I am telling you now…”
“No. I want to be able to trust you.”
“I will marry Arabella. Watch.” He groaned, shaking his hand. “I can’t stop shaking! Give me a damn drink,” he roared.
Ian remained still.
“Are you telling me you are encouraging me—your heir—to pursue a relationship with someone thetonwill admonish? You? The very duke who was so embarrassed by his Honey Duchess that he fled to the Continent.”
“I returned.” Ian sighed, then raked his hand through his hair. “Listen, I will support you in marrying Arabella or whomever you find yourself in love with because I wish for you to be happy. Sincerely. I have a chance at that same happiness now with Charlotte. I would be a hypocrite in denying you that.”
“Find me a drink, Ian. I’m begging you.”
Ian reached for his brother’s hand and held it in his own, swallowing past the panic in his chest. “You have the same chance. Do you understand? Do you see that, Nate?”
His brother shrugged before he turned and nearly cast up his accounts.
“Very well. I will ring for some tea?—”
“I don’t want any damn tea unless you mean whiskey or port or gin or brandy. Hell, sherry would be fine.”
“Tea,” Ian said again firmly. “Come sit with me.” He walked behind the sofa while Nathaniel glared at him, then sat at the small table, and grabbed the deck of cards. “This will pass. Until then, I’ll stay.”
“That’s novel of you.”
Ian glanced up, biting back his comments. “You are unwell right now.”
“I didn’t need a surgeon to suggest that.”
“Well, a knife to your gut surely didn’t help either.”
