“Why would I?” He raised an eyebrow at his mother and waved a hand dismissively as he said, “I am not interested in her that way. And even if I was, there would be no point in courting her.”
“Is she promised to another?” his mother asked, frowning. “Or are you?”
“I do not think so.” He felt a surprising stab of irritation as he thought of Jane being promised to another man, and absentmindedly rubbed his chest as though to soothe it. “And you know I am not.”
“So why not court the young lady?” His mother smiled.
“You know why, Mother. How many times must we have this argument?” Blake sighed.
“I have no wish to argue. It is just that I worry about you.” The Dowager Duchess squeezed his hand gently. “You know that I consider you my son, and I simply want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.” Blake shrugged and smiled as broadly as he could, trying to assuage his mother’s fears.
“Are you?” She gave him a piercing look.
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked in a casual tone. He didn’t want to make her worry.
“I worry sometimes that you are lonely.”
“I have you.”
“You will not always have me. And I am not the same as a wife.” She gently prodded him in the chest as she said this, as close to a reprimand as she would get.
“I have no wish for a wife.” He made another dismissive gesture, and for some reason, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla swam to the forefront of his mind. “Even if I did, you know I cannot marry.”
“You will not marry. There is a difference. The dead have no place meddling in the lives of the living, dear boy.” His mother gave him a flat look. “Why do you not let this grudge die?”
“It is not a grudge. You know what he did to me. What he was like. What if I am just like him?”
What if I cannot be trusted?
Blake swallowed and turned away from his mother, shoving down the pain.
“I do. And I wish I could have done more to protect you from him.” His mother’s voice was soft and sad.
“There was nothing else you could have done.” Blake shook his head. He did not hold her responsible for his father’s failings.
“The blood that flows in your veins is not just your father’s, but it is your mother’s too. And though we do not share blood, you have been shaped by me as well. You are kind and caring, compassionate and loyal. You would never betray your wife. Nor can I imagine you causing harm to her or your children.” The Dowager Duchess’s voice was full of cold determination and complete confidence, as though there could be no arguing otherwise.
Blake wanted to believe her, but he could not. Instead, he shook his head and said, “It does not matter whether you can imagine it. His blood flows in my veins. Though I appreciate your confidence in me, I will not risk it. And even if I were willing to, you know I cannot.”
“You can. You are simply choosing not to,” she pointed out.
“I made a vow to him as he lay dying.” Blake clenched his jaw as he recalled the moment. “I told him that his line would end with me, that I would make sure of it. That I would destroy everything he had loved and ensure it left our family for good.”
Blake could still smell the laudanum in the room. Smell the sickly sweet scent of his father’s breath. See the pain in the man’s eyes as he whispered his vow to him.
It is the last thing I ever said to him—the last thing he heard.
His fists were clenched, and he smiled a grimly satisfied smile at the memory. He would never need to know if he would turn out like the cruel man his father was. He would never need to risk harming another, and he would ensure his father’s wishes remained unfulfilled.
“Do not live your life to spite your father. Live it so that you might experience all that this wonderful world has to offer.” She embraced him again, and they continued walking.
“Can I not do both?” he replied, trying to sound jovial but sounding more earnest.
She shook her head. “Perhaps for a while. But I worry you are holding yourself back from a life that would bring you untold joy for a man who brought you pain.”
“I cannot let him win,” Blake whispered, pain flaring to life in his chest.
