Page 88 of Duke of Iron
He loosened his cravat, trying to breathe, but found the air in the room was too thin.
This is what happens. Let yourself care, and you will lose everything.
Twenty-Seven
“Iheard you took Rydal out today.” May laid down her fork, watching Logan’s profile over the bank of white tulips in their little-used dining room. The footman, perhaps surprised by the rarity of both the dinner and the conversation, withdrew in dignified silence, leaving them alone with the roast and the echoes.
Logan, who had not so much as glanced at her since soup, replied, “He required an airing. Mrs. Paxton insists on it.”
She let the silence stretch just long enough to make it clear she did not accept this answer. “You went to see the Beamonds.”
He inclined his head. “I did.”
May pressed her palms together in her lap. “You took Rydal to meet his grandparents.”
Logan smiled faintly, but it was not the smile she had learned to interpret as victory; it was something more brittle, a white flag in the war of domesticity. “I thought they ought to know him, at least once.”
“And did they?” May’s voice was softer than she intended. “Did they… like him?”
He shrugged. “He is difficult not to like. Even when he is chewing on one’s sleeve.” He raised his own to display a faint smear of what was unmistakably mashed carrot.
May smiled. “He is skilled at endearment.”
Logan set down his wine, but did not reach for his fork. “They asked if they might keep him.”
She went still. “Did they?”
“They claimed it was out of duty to their daughter. But I think it was simply that they had nothing left.” Logan regarded her across the rim of his glass. “Would you have given him up?”
May’s voice caught in her throat. “I hope you declined.”
Logan’s mouth quirked, and he reached for the bread. “I did. But not before wondering if I was doing him a kindness.”
May picked at the edge of her napkin. “You think he is not wanted here.”
Logan considered this, weighing the words. “I think he is wanted in more than one place. That is rare for a child.”
They lapsed into quiet, the air thick with unsaid things. May watched the candlelight dance on the silver and willed herself not to look at Logan’s hands, because if she did, she would say something ridiculous, like,I wish you wanted me as much as you want to be rid of that baby,orI do not think I could bear to let either of you go.
Instead, she cleared her throat. “He is wanted by me.”
Logan’s gaze snapped to hers. For a long beat, neither of them spoke.
He smiled then, lazy and devastating. “Is my Duchess forming an attachment to the Duke’s ungovernable brother?”
She matched his tone. “I believe everyone in this house has formed an attachment, except perhaps the cat in the kitchens.”
“The cat is jealous. He had the house to himself for years.”
May sipped her wine, grateful for the ease in her chest, however brief. “What did you tell the Beamonds?”
“That I would bring him back. For a visit, when he is older.” Logan’s eyes held hers, unwavering. “I did not say I would ever leave him behind.”
She nodded, the ache in her heart settling into a manageable hum. “You are a good brother, Logan. You are… better than you think.”
He gave a low laugh, and the sound rippled through her like a stone dropped in a still pond. “You are an appalling judge of character.”
“And you are an appalling liar.”
