And then she’d slammed the door?
He could not make sense of the world. It had turned upside down.
He staggered down the hall. He couldn’t stay in the house. In this hell. In this hurricane of memory.
She was not supposed to love him. It was against all his plans. All their agreements.
Will picked up his pace, pumping his legs as if they could carry him away from the cut she had opened in his heart. He stormed through it, then down his sprawling stairs.
The wildness of his thoughts and feelings made him feel as if he was rattling apart.
He got to the foyer, ready to rush out, only to crash into Ben.
His brother staggered back. “I have heard rumors of great drama afoot, but I had to see for myself.” And then Ben stopped and looked at Will. “Oh God,” he said. “Who murdered your dog?”
“I don’t own a dog,” Will ground out, needing to get away from Ben. He flexed his hands.
He’d never noticed it before. How had he not noticed? But Ben was the perfect image of their mother. With his curling dark hair. His playful eyes and his teasing.
Ben had barely known her, but he saw the world with her humor and light.
Will’s throat closed. He missed her. God, how he missed her. And that missing had finally come to complete catastrophe this morning.
“It’s a figure of speech, old man,” Ben said softly.
Will shot him a fierce glare. “Margaret is not going to marry Kit, and apparently my wife loves me.”
Ben’s brows rose. “Felicitations.” He folded his arms across his chest and gave a carefree shrug. “I knew it all along, of course. It’s a wonderful and happy event that Beatrice has finally told you. And now you can get over your foolishness and tell her that you love her, too.”
He recoiled, appalled Ben would say such a thing. “She’s asked me to leave.”
Ben gaped at him, his dark hair wild as he shook his head. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“I do not love her,” he bit out, furious that people kept bandying the word love about. It was like salt in his wounds. “I can’t.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Will, that is the greatest lie I’ve ever heard.”
A muscle clenched in his jaw, and anger burned inside him. It did not matter that he admired Beatrice more than anyone in the world or that he longed for her presence like the night longs for the dawn.
“It is not,” he stated. Could no one see but him? Was he alone in his determination to keep them all from pain? “I have been very careful to keep my feelings—”
“What?” Ben cut in. “Dry, boring, unimportant.”
He was a complete disgrace, and the weight of it crushed him. Because everyone was in pain.
He’d failed at the only thing that had ever mattered to him.
“I’ve been patient with you, but there is a limit for even this absurdity,” Ben challenged, throwing his hands up. “Everything that you have done is a shining example of the way that you love Beatrice. For God’s sake, man, the way you look at her every moment of every bloody day is evidence that you love her.”
“Cease, Ben,” Will snapped, refusing to believe the rising tension in him was panic. “You are being ridiculous. I admire her. I respect her. I think she’s marvelous. But love?” He scoffed. “I would never lose myself in that emotion.”
“Bloody hell,” Ben exclaimed. “You actually believe what you say.”
He glared at his brother, unable to respond. He didn’t love Beatrice. But God, he wanted her right now. He wanted her to wrap her arms around him and tell him it would all be well.
But perhaps there was a poison in his line. Perhaps all he could do, like his mother, was hurt people.
“Where the devil is Kit?” Ben demanded. “I heard—”