“She did not want money. She wanted the title. She wanted to be a duchess.”
Michael blinked as his chest tightened. “How do you mean? She knew I was not the heir.”
“Yes. But she thought you were a path to the heir. The night before the two of you ran away, Thomas found her in his bedchamber. Unclothed. He summoned me, and we insisted she leave and never see you again. She planned to claim that Thomas had ruined her so he would be forced to marry her, and I promised I could produce at least two men who would swear that would not be possible. She left, threatening revenge. The next morning you were gone.” Philip sat a bit straighter. “Truth be told, we lost both of you that night. You to a broken heart and Thomas to the realization that women would not just pursue his title—which he already knew—but would betray his family to get it. He blamed himself for not seeing it and for your downfall. Afterward, you wanted to drown, and he wanted to get as far away from the machinations of Society’s women as he could get.”
Michael jerked to his feet and turned away from Philip, his chest so constricted that he struggled to breathe. His eyes immediately went toward the brandy decanter, waiting so temptingly on a table beside his father’s desk. “Why did you not tell me?”
“In those first days, you would not have listened. Later, we never saw you sober enough to hear us.”
Two steps. Two steps and he could have the brandy in hand. Michael took the first one.
Philip fell silent.
Michael slowly closed his eyes. “She was the love of my life.”
“No, she was not. You thought she was the answer to this hunger you have.”
“Yes! She was!” The words were a whispered hiss.
“No.”
Philip’s soft voice held a familiar finality to it. Throughout Michael’s childhood, his father always had the final word on any family discussion—whether it was a political discussion or a decision on which biscuits were tastiest. And usually delivered in just this kind of low, unyielding tone. Michael pivoted. “How can you be so sure? What would you know about it?”
“Because I thought the same thing about your mother.”
Michael stilled, staring at Philip, who returned the same unwavering expression. After a moment, Philip gestured at the chair again, and Michael sat, perched on the edge of it.
“I loved Emalyn with every ounce of strength I had. I still do. But I recognize your restlessness because I had felt the same thing. I was convinced if I married Emalyn, it would be fulfilled. But it was not. It lingered, making our first years more tumultuous than they should have been. I wanted her to be the answer to everything. And she was not.”
“So what was the answer?”
Philip drew his legs in, straightened, and leaned forward. “I’m not sure there is one. Certainly no one person is. Or perhaps it differs from one person to another. Some find it in God. Others in travel. For me, part of the answer came from taking on more of my duties as marquess, then duke. To find a purpose and direction for each day. I know you have struggled since your return. You have spent almost four years transferring your hopes in Eleanor to strong drink. Without either, you have floundered. Now you are trying to shift it to Lady Clara—”
“Father—”
“But as she grows closer to the duke, as she seems to slip away, you are aimless again.”
Michael froze, then his eyes narrowed as a realization set in. “This is why the three of you concocted the idea of a facilitating company.”
Philip’s smile spread slowly but broadly.
“I will be damned.”
“As I said, we are stronger as a family than as individuals.”
“You think this will give me purpose.”
“That’s yet to be seen. I do think between this company and helping Robert fill out his stables, you will find a distraction and a direction.”
“I still mean to marry Lady Clara.”
Philip gave a single nod. “I am sure you do. But your grandfather married a woman he barely knew instead of the one he loved in order to fulfill his family duties, thinking he could be happy in spite of it. I married the woman I loved thinking she was the answer to all my problems. Neither of us was entirely correct. Yet both of us had marriages that suited us. Life does not always turn out as you hope it will. But you can find a path of purpose and contentment, if you do not fight the inevitable too hard.”
Michael realized the meaning in his father’s words, and he fought his desire to reject them, to disallow the thought to even enter his mind. “You think she will marry the duke.”
“I think a woman in her position has fewer choices than you believe she does. Lady Clara, from all I’ve heard, seems to be a reasonable if slightly rebellious young woman. If this is the duty required of her, I suspect she will choose family over love. It is what we in Society do.”
“Another reason to despise it.”
