Page 188 of Courting the Wrong Duke

“Whatever Father did, whatever secret he kept from us, none of it changes what you were to me. You were my brother yesterday, before I knew any of this. You were my brother when we were boys, even if I was too young and too sheltered to understand what was happening to you.” His throat tightened. “And you are still my brother standing here now.”

For the first time since the fight began, William wanted to reach for him rather than strike him.

Algernon must have seen it because he backed away.

“Stay away from me.”

William stopped.

Only then did he realize tears were running down his face. He wiped at them impatiently, but more followed, and after a moment he stopped trying to hide them.

“I am sorry.”

Algernon stared at him, and William’s voice broke when he tried again.

“God, Algernon, I am so sorry. For what Father did to you. For every hour he left you in this miserable house and every time you had to watch him give me the kindness he denied you. Most of all, I am sorry I never knew.”

“You were a child.”

“I know. But I was not a child forever.” William swallowed against the ache in his throat. “If you had told me later, I would have listened.”

“You could never understand.”

“Perhaps not completely, but I could have tried. I am trying now.” He drew a shaky breath. “You have suffered enough. Let it end here.”

Algernon gave a strange, humorless laugh. “You think it is that simple?”

“No. Nothing about this is simple.” William glanced toward Edmund behind the bars before looking back at his brother. “But Father hurt you because he had power over you and believed that gave him the right to use it. You know better than anyone what that did to you. Locking Eastmere behind another door will not undo a single hour you spent locked upstairs. It only gives that pain to someone else.”

Algernon’s gaze followed his toward the cell, and for a moment William thought he saw something give in his expression.

“Please, Algernon,” he said. “Let him out. You do not have to become the man who hurt you.”

Whatever William had seen disappeared.

“You still do not understand.”

“Then make me understand.”

Algernon was quiet for a long moment before he said, “I heard them.”

William frowned. “Who?”

“Father and Eastmere. Years ago.” The fury that had filled Algernon only moments before began to recede, leaving something colder in its place. “I was looking for Father. I heard my name before I entered the room, so I stopped outside.”

A terrible unease settled over William. Edmund had already told him that Algernon overheard the conversation, but not how much of it he had heard.

“How much did you hear?”

“Everything.”

Algernon looked toward the ceiling, and William followed his gaze. Somewhere above them were the rooms Rosalind had described, still littered with the evidence of a frightened little boy’s attempts to earn his father’s approval.

“I learned that the man I had spent my entire life trying to please was not truly my father in the way I believed. I learned about the maid. About the lie they had constructed before I was old enough to know my own name.” His eyes returned to William. “And then I heard him say that perhaps the greatest mistake he had made was allowing me to inherit.”

William’s stomach dropped.

“He said I had become dark. Unsteady. That he no longer knew whether I possessed the judgment required to lead the family after he was gone.” Algernon’s voice began to shake. “Do you understand? After everything he had done to me, he looked at what I had become and decided that was my failure too.”