Page 67 of His Haunted Duchess
“Do you—do you love him? It’s a very personal question, and I ought not to ask it, but—” He shrugged helplessly. “I would still like to know.”
The dear boy!She put her hands on his. He kept a brave face so often—even a confident one. An echo in his voice reminded her of what life must have been like for him, alone and young at his father’s death. She had felt that herself when the curse had first started
“Is something wrong with Frederic? Or do you prefer someone else?”
“Absolutely not.” Caroline twisted to face him with a speed that surprised them both. “Your brother truly is—as I have said before to him and to others—one of the best men I’ve ever known.”
Confusion crept into his face, painting more clearly the vulnerability of his youth.
“But—you do you love him, don’t you? You didn’t really—I mean, you didn’t really answer.”
Caroline stared at her fingers. She hadn’t worn gloves in months. The scar on her hands stood out like a slash of charcoal on a whitewashed wall. It was too dangerous. Love for anyone was fraught with peril, but love for her—well-married, it was true, but cursed. She couldn’t. It would put him in danger. But then?—
Scenes of the last few months flicked across her mind in a procession of reproach. The high spirits of the wedding when so much of the world seemed bright and happy. The low despondency of her nightmares, and his sweet, consoling kiss?—
Her heart beat faster, accelerating like a hound that had caught a scent.
“I am cursed, Philip.”
Philip’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. He stared at her as if she had developed a rare and debilitating illness and transformed into a corpse before him.
“Caroline, that’s ridiculous.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He folded his arms.
“It really is. How can you believe something so foolish?”
She raised her chin.
“It may sound foolish to you, but my family—” It hurt too much, too much to speak, but it had to be out, “—they died because of me.”
Philip started shaking his head even before she had finished speaking.
“They died in an accident, Caroline. Accidents just happen. No one expects them.”
Caroline ignored him. He didn’t know—he couldn’t. Even having suffered as he did at the loss of his father, he couldn’t understand what it was to be haunted—to be stalked in day shadows and pursued by night terrors.
“But Frederic—he loves you. I know he does.”
Caroline’s heart twisted inside her. Frederic had been considerate to her, and she was very grateful, but she couldn’t tell Philip the reality of an equitable but arranged marriage. The duke may never really love her.
“Your brother has been very thoughtful—preferential, even. He is very much a gentleman that way.” Philip frowned. She hurried on before he could object. “Regardless, the curse might bring other dangers.”
Philip’s eyes widened in horror.
“How can you say that?” he whispered. “Haven’t you been happy here? With us?”
He looked like a puppy that had been cut with a switch. Caroline’s heart bled for him like ink blotting a fresh page. He was so young, so untried. He couldn’t understand her position, but she could hardly assuage his fears with anything, especially not the truth.
“I have been more happy here than I ever expected to be. The fun, the friends—but—” She shrugged helplessly. “—I can’t love him.”
Philip looked as if he had read the announcement for her funeral. His lips paled, and he fell back on his elbow.
“Then—” He drew a breath as if it were his last. “—will you leave us?”
“No, of course not!” Caroline reached out to touch his hand. He pulled it back. “We married out of necessity, not inclination, but we’re still—friends.”
