Page 77 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

The curve of his lips flattened into a hard line. “Sometimes the past should die, and we should let it.”

“Remember what Irene said? That it’s a privilege to know all your husband’s secrets, even the less palatable ones?” She slid her fingers through the softness of his hair, and to her delight, he leaned into her touch. “Or you can tell me more about your nightmares.”

“Mm. No.” He closed his eyes as she used her nails to scratch his scalp. “There are some things you should never know.”

“That only makes me more interested to learn.”

“All the same. That’s fine, Jessamine.” His eyes fluttered open, spearing her, and he took hold of her chin, bringing her face to his so he could kiss it. “Am I awake?” he murmured.

“As awake as I am,” she whispered back.

His huff was half of laughter and half of another emotion she couldn’t identify. But he adjusted her so that she was seated more comfortably on his lap, and reached past her for the whiskey. “Fortification,” he told her, and took a swig.

“Andrew, no. Enough.”

“That was the last one, I promise.” He replaced the bottle on the table and wrapped that arm around her, too.

Under ordinary circumstances, he was not nearly as tactile with her—including all the brushes against the small of her back—but she could only gather these were not ordinary circumstances.

“My father,” Andrew said with a sigh. “He was a cruel man. I suppose you think I inherited a lot from him. He had strong expectations about how his heir and spare ought to behave. We all had a very specific place in his life, and he taught us how best to fulfill his expectations.”

Jessamine rested her head against his shoulder. She could practically feel the hurt humming through him, even if he never directly acknowledged it. “So, you never had freedom?”

“I never expected freedom. Neither George or I could ever have hoped for freedom. No man or woman in this world is wholly free. I knew, as the second son, my role would be to find my own way through the world one day. I could not afford to be profligate or selfish, because I required an occupation. My father was not the sort of gentleman who provides his son with an allowance merely by dint of being his son. And George… Well, he was the heir, and Father always expected him to act as worthy of that title. In some ways, he had more freedoms, more financial security, but in other ways, he had less. He was required to receive endless lessons on comportment and how best to run an estate. Some of them… the penalties for failure were harsh. My father’s brother, Rebecca’s father, was much the same… And Rebecca…” He closed his eyes.

“You don’t need to tell me about her,” she whispered, wrapping her arms more tightly around her neck. “I know how much you loved her.”

“We were each other’s confidants,” Andrew said. “Then… I was not the same man I am now, Jessamine.”

“I know.”

Although now she knew him better, Jessamine could understand why Rebecca had always spoken of him so warmly. There was a softness to him, one that she’d been forced to dig for.

Perhaps when they were children, that side of him was more accessible. Rebecca had certainly known it.

“Rebecca was always expected to marry well,” he said. “We all knew it, and she knew it, too. All her life, governesses had prepared her to be the perfect lady. But when the time came, we never thought—we had no idea that the man my uncle would pick would be that man. George had already left for London, and he knew little of this, but I was at home, and I knew everything. I’ve told you the rest.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jessamine murmured.

“So, to answer your question about my father: he was a cold man. I always respected him a little, but it was fear, not love, that regulated my behavior as a boy. All the same, it prepared me for what was to come.” His hand came clumsily to her cheek. “That is why I wanted structure for William. So he might be prepared for the world.”

Jessamine caught his hand, holding it against her cheek. For some reason, her chest ached.

“I know,” she said. “And we will do everything to ensure that he has the best start in life. You know that’s what I want, too. I just also want—oh, you know what I also want, Andrew. I want him to feel secure and loved, too. I don’t want him to feel about us the way you feel about your father.”

He snorted. “With you as a mother, how could he?”

She smiled at him as she stroked his hand. “Tell me about your mother.”

“I remember nothing about her. She died shortly after my birth. My father might have loved her. I hardly know. That was not a language he ever spoke.”

“The language of love?”

“Affection was weakness in his eyes. He may have loved my mother, but he more so saw her as a necessary component of his life. He had a duty to provide for her, which he did, and she had a duty to give him sons, which she did. When she died, both their duties were, in essence, discharged.”

His words sent pain through Jessamine’s chest. Such a callous way to speak about his parents. As though duty were the only component of a life.

“Is that what you believe?” she asked, holding herself a little straighter in his arms. “That duty is the most important part of one’s life?”