Will drove a hand through his hair.
“What do you know?” Kit demanded.
He blew out a breath. “Her father is in a financial situation.”
Why the devil hadn’t he told Kit right away? Out of honor? Out of some sort of noblesse oblige about protecting a man on the verge of a scandal?
“Her father has lost everything,” he said flatly, his insides quaking as the ramifications of all this began to fall on him. “She must feel terrible about trapping you into marriage with no money.”
“No,” Kit protested. “Well, yes. She said that, too, but read it. She said… She said that she could not marry me because she no longer knew who she truly was. And that she couldn’t trust her fate into the hands of men.”
“Oh God,” William bit out, “that sounds like Beatrice.” Could Beatrice have instructed Margaret in the writing of the letter?
No, his wife was too sensible for that.
She had tried to persuade Margaret not to marry Kit before, but things were different now. She wouldn’t go against his family and, by extension, him.
This all sounded very strange. And he suddenly felt…off foot. It made him slightly ill, and he was forced to draw in a slow, deep breath to keep his nerve.
What the bloody hell was going on?
And then, much to his horror, Kit allowed a tear to slip down his cheek.
“Are you crying, Kit?” he asked softly, his own damned heart twisting.
Kit dashed his hand across his cheek. “No,” he protested. And then Will wrapped his arm around his brother, as he had done when they were small and alone. “All of this will be sorted; I promise. You love her. And she loves you. And that’s all there is to it.”
“But you said love is the devil,” Kit lamented. “And I heartily agree in this moment. If she loves me so much, why would she write me a letter like that? She’s the devil herself. I’ll never take her back. Breaking my heart like that two days before the wedding. I should find another wife immediately.”
William pulled him closer and sat beside him. “You’re not going anywhere. Not at the moment. I don’t even know if you could stand.”
“Do not disparage my honor. I can hold my drink,” Kit declared, and then he tried to shove himself to his feet. He paused, tumbled down, and groaned. “Why is the world spinning? Who’s letting the world spin? William, you’re a duke. Tell the world to stop spinning.”
Will grabbed hold of him and kept him down. He clapped him on the shoulder but did not let go. He would keep care of his brother. As he always had done. As he always would.
“If you stay down, it will stop spinning,” Will said firmly.
“Fine. I shall remain.” And Kit slumped. He threw his forearm over his eyes. “I didn’t know it could hurt so much.”
“What?” William asked.
“Love,” Kit said.
Will was silent for a long moment, then replied, “Love always hurts. It’s the cruelest thing of all.”
Kit nodded. “I should have listened to you.”
“I’m sorry,” William replied gently, squeezing Kit’s shoulder. “I truly am. I never wished any of it.”
“Of course you didn’t, William,” Kit declared passionately. “You’re a good brother.” He groaned. “Love. Never again,” Kit vowed before he reached for the next bottle of brandy and thrust it at Will. “Come, you have some catching up to do.”
William took the bottle, tilted it back, and took a drink. He hated being right about something like this. He was correct so often, but he would have truly preferred to have been mistaken.
He hated that his brother was learning that love was a mess.
But surely it was a vast misunderstanding? It had to be. But whatever the case, he would protect Kit. As he had done when he was a boy and their mother had left. He’d never blamed her. He’d blamed society. He’d blamed the foolish notions of love that caused people to abandon what mattered, what was important.
Pain laced through him as echoes of the past washed over him. As the brandy slid down his throat, a wave of the fear and loneliness that had been his constant companions after his mother left crashed over him.