Page 65 of Mr. Eastwood’s Match

Roman opened his mouth but immediately closed it again, no word leaving his lips.

Carefully, Lyness pressed on. “You would have married her because you believed you must. I declared myself because I wanted to. Because I have wanted to from the first day I met her.”

Turning from Lyness, Roman stepped away as though he needed distance to comprehend the words. The fire hissed in the hearth, and the long-case clock in the entryway chimed the hour.

Opening his hands at his side, trying to relax his posture, Lyness thought carefully through the last of what he needed to say to his brother. “If Lady Emily rejects me, then that is her right. I would never force her into anything. But I will not apologize for caring about her. Nor for protecting her when she needed a shield.”

Steps away from him, Roman’s hands open and closed. His voice, when it emerged, was hoarse. “You should have told me what you planned. Instead you sent me on another path. You encouraged me to focus my attention elsewhere.”

“I feared you would stop me.”

The lack of denial that followed was as good as an agreement on that statement. Another long moment passed before Roman exhaled, the anger finally bleeding from his posture. “Lyness,” he said quietly, turning to face him again. “I have always thought you the gentler of us. The softer brother. But I see now that you are…resolute in a manner I did not expect.”

Lyness managed a faint, sad smile. “That makes two of us.”

Reluctant acceptance flickered through Roman’s expression. Then came something more like the affection Lyness was used to, but felt more brittle than usual.

Circling around his desk, Roman sank slowly into his chair, elbows on the surface, head bowed. For a moment he did not look like Baron Hartwell or the unflappable man who stormed through York’s political circles. He looked… tired.

No—wounded.

“This is the third time,” he said quietly. Not accusing. Not even resentful. Just stating a truth he could no longer avoid. “Three times I have waited too long. Three times someone else has acted more decisively, winning the hand of a woman who would have made an excellent baroness.”

Lyness’s heart pinched. He had not thought about that, exactly.

Roman stared into the fire. “I admired her, you know. She is gentle. Intelligent. Steady. I could have been content with her.” His voice tightened, almost imperceptibly. “I was not indifferent.”

Guilt and relief collided almost painfully in Lyness’s chest. “I…I did not realize.”

“How could you?” Roman asked, lifting his head at last. His expression softened in a way Lyness rarely saw, stripped of authority, of pride, of all the armor he habitually carried. “I move slowly. Cautiously. It has never served me well where a lady is concerned.”He gave a small, humorless huff of breath. “And now it seems that fate would rather hand my chances to you.”

Lyness came to stand beside the desk to protest his brother’s words. “Roman⁠—”

“No.” Roman raised a hand, the gesture brief but firm. “Do not apologize. You acted decisively when I did not. And you did it for the heart’s sake, hers and your own. A man cannot resent that.” He leaned back, shoulders stiffening as he pulled the mantle of baron back over himself. “I will not.”

Lyness nodded, throat tight.

With a steady gaze, Roman asked, “Do you truly care for her, Lyness? You believe yourself capable of loving her?”

“Yes,” Lyness whispered. “I have fought against it, especially knowing you wished to court her. But I cannot ignore my heart. Not anymore.”

Roman closed his eyes briefly—perhaps bidding farewell to a possibility he’d never claim—then opened them with quiet resolve. “Then you have my blessing.”

At that simple statement, Lyness sank into the chair on the other side of the desk. His whole posture finally loosening. “I had not realized how much I needed to hear that.” He passed his hand over his face and tried to smile. It was shaky, at best. “Thank you.”

Roman rose from the chair. For the first time since Lyness entered the study, he stepped close and rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder. The gesture held both weight and acceptance. And perhaps a trace of grief. “Make her happy,” Roman said softly. “Where I might have been content, be joyful. Where I would have been dutiful, be devoted. Let this be the end of disappointment for at least one Eastwood.”

“I will,” Lyness vowed, looking upward.

With that said, Roman nodded once, the mask of duty settling back over him. “I imagine you have things to do, now that you are an engaged man. I will tell you what happened at the club later.”

Rising, Lyness made it halfway to the door before he turned. “I am escorting Lady Emily and our mother to the races this afternoon. Will you come?” Lyness waited, the olive branch extended, and hope in his heart.

Roman turned toward the window, hands braced on its sill, shoulders rigid. But he said, without a trace of bitterness, “Of course. That will show a united front. I will ready myself in a moment.”

Lyness bowed his head, then left the room with purpose, the weight of the discussion settling into something almost solemn. An understanding between brothers, and renewed respect on Lyness’s part. Roman had ever and always been his closest friend and confident. That he had his brother’s blessing, that Roman was not angry with him, was a balm to Lyness’s heart.

Now all he had to do was win Lady Emily Sterling’s love. Preferably before they married. He could imagine no greater happiness than that.