Much Ado About Dukes

Right now, he was putting on a show for his brothers. He didn’t wish them to worry. But every damn moment was agony, a battle not to choose a gin bottle or a dark room that matched his soul.

He’d been capable before, and he would continue to be capable, but without her by his side, it was so meaningless and brutal.

He hadn’t known joy until Beatrice. And now, joy was gone. Hell, he didn’t even have mere contentment. Every breath was riddled with pain.

Yes, Beatrice was his air. Without her, he was in a suffocating wasteland.

Like an arrogant duke, he’d not realized how she’d made herself absolutely integral to his life. He loved hearing her thoughts on his speeches and positions at the end of every day. No one critiqued him like she did. No one skewered his mistakes with such wit. And she prepared him the best for debates because she had a better mind than most of the men around him.

He missed the way the light played on her skin, as if it adored her as much as he did. He missed the caress of her long hair across his chest as they slept. He missed the feel of her body next to his, taking up most of the great bed.

Consumed with Beatrice, he didn’t see the blow coming.

Kit drove his fist into his belly, and he realized he was doing the exact thing he had told Beatrice not to do. He was standing still.

Standing still in life, too.

What a bloody disappointment he was.

He maneuvered around the boxing ring, light on the balls of his feet. People were gathering, watching, wondering, because gossip had broken, of course, that Kit’s marriage had not taken place.

So other club members were now taking bets on which brother would win, because rumors, too, had made the rounds that Beatrice and he were not on speaking terms.

Rumors were the bloody devil.

Ben leaned against the ropes. “I never knew that I had such unintelligent brothers. I always looked up to you, my elder brothers, my wonderful brothers, capable brothers with awe and respect. I always thought, yes, those are the men I should aspire to be. Now I think, good God, please save me from your fate. Can you not pull yourselves together? Can you not deduce what it is that you are meant to do?”

Kit and Will swung him hard glares.

“You’ve never been in love,” Kit growled. “You have not set yourself into the arena of it. You have nothing to say.”

Ben scowled. “That is not true. I think I understand ladies far better than the two of you. I have a great deal to say. And I say, there’s only one thing to do.”

“What?” Kit demanded, turning toward him.

Ben gave them a look that suggested they were completely without wits. “Listen to them, listen to what they want, and then give it to them.” He folded his arms across his linen-clad chest and concluded, “It is the best way forward.”

Will marched over to the ropes, grabbed Ben by the collar, and hauled him over. “Kit, you take a break. This one needs a go around.”

Ben laughed. “Whatever you command, old man.”

He rolled up his sleeves, brought up his guard, circled round with Will, and launched a punch so hard into Will’s cheek that Will staggered back.

“I’m going to give you matching sets of bruises,” Ben said. “You’re in need of them.”

Will leveled his youngest brother with a startled look, shaken. He’d always protected Ben. He could still remember when he’d toddled to him as a baby, wishing no one else to pick him up when lost after their mother’s departure. It seemed Ben had abandoned sentiment in favor of hard blows. “What have you been holding back all these years, puppy?”

“My disdain for you,” he bit out. “I’ve always held you in respect, elder, always kept myself in check because I did not want to bring you low. But now? I’m not sure. How can you keep Beatrice waiting?”

Each word cut. Did Ben think so little of him? Of course he did. And he was right to. He’d failed everyone. And he did not know how to lift himself out of shadow. “Puppy, I had no idea that you were so capable.”

“I know,” Ben said tightly, bouncing. “You do not think that I’m capable. You did not think Kit was capable. Or at least not capable of taking care of ourselves without you to pick us up. You’re always protecting us, Will. And I have loved you for it,” he said loudly.

Will winced. “You needn’t use that word.”

“Why not?” Ben countered. “It’s true. I love you, brother.”

Each use of the word “love” was like a dagger driving into his heart. Or…was it something else? Was the pain purging a poison that had festered far too long?