Page 23 of The Duke’s Matchmaker

No. It isn’t me he needs, because I don’t know what to do for him. I couldn’t have prevented this. I don’t know how to keep him safe or how to comfort him. What he needs is a mother. And I’ve also failed to provide that.

His thoughts were spinning so furiously as the carriage pulled away that he didn’t even realize he had an extra passenger until she cleared her throat and spoke. “Nathaniel…where are you taking me, exactly?”

His attention snapped to Dorothy.

She was sitting across from him. She didn’t look angry, merely curious, but shame flooded him. He had allowed himself to get so caught up in what was happening that he had dragged her along without even thinking about it.

“Oh…goodness,” he fumbled, starting to rise from his seat, meaning to knock on the front wall of the carriage to alert the driver. “I’ll have you taken back at once. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You don’t need to do that,” she said softly.”

He frowned. “I didn’t mean to bring you along.”

“I know you didn’t,” she agreed. “But sometimes, in moments where we’re most distressed, we reveal what we truly need.”

“Another one of your observations?”

“Yes,” she said. “Although this one wasn’t particularly difficult to notice. When people’s emotions are heightened, they reveal their innermost needs.”

“And you’re saying you think I need…what, exactly?”

“A friend.” Her words were simple. “It’s clear how upset you were by the news you just received.”

He covered his face with his hands. “I wasn’t there for him,” he murmured. “And I don’t know how to be what he needs. He’s ill, and I can rush home to sit with him, but I can’t cure this. I can’t take away his pain. I can’t make sure nothing worse befalls him.” He couldn’t even look at Dorothy. He couldn’t articulate the horrible dread that was on his mind. What if the unthinkable happened? What if he spoke it into being somehow?

Dorothy reached out across the carriage and laid a small hand atop his arm.

He looked up at her. Her face was calm, her eyes soft and gentle. Every time she had looked at him before now, he had seen at least some measure of judgment or disdain. But there was none of that now. There was only kindness, only empathy.

“Of course you’re worried,” she told him. “Of course you fear what might happen to him. It makes so much sense for you to feel the way you do. But that doesn’t mean that anything is actually going to happen, Nathaniel. It’s normal for children to become ill. It’s normal for them to develop fevers, and usually those fevers pass quickly.”

“Usually. Not always,” Nathaniel murmured. “You know as well as I how these things can turn. How a child can start out with just a slight fever and then…in just a matter of hours…” He trailed off, unable to say it.

“No,” Dorothy said firmly. “That isn’t going to happen, Nathaniel. I understand your fears. Truly, I do. But that isn’t going to happen to your son.”

Nathaniel frowned. It hadn’t occurred to him until this moment that he had given her a false impression about who Colin was. “He isn’t my son.”

“He’s not?” Dorothy frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m confused. You’ve been pretty consistent about the fact that you’re seeking a mother for him. I assumed that meant you were his father.”

“No,” Nathaniel said. “I mean, I suppose I’m the closest thing he has to a father. His father died years ago. Before he was born, as I understand it.”

“And left him orphaned?”

“His mother survived a bit longer.” He pressed his lips together. “Our mother, I should say.”

He rarely spoke of this. He had never intentionally deceived anyone about it, but his preference was to simply leave Colin out of conversation. Nobody needed to know this story, and it was far too painful to speak about. He had told his closest friends, and though he had never instructed them to keep it a secret, he thought they must have sensed how difficult the conversation had been for him. It had never been brought up again, and he had the sense even their wives didn’t know.

And yet, here he was, telling Dorothy everything. He was going to tell her everything, that had quickly become apparent to him. He didn’t like the feeling of having misled her, even though it hadn’t been his intention to do that. He wanted to be honest. Especially since she had called him a friend.

She’s willing to come along with me—in the face of all good sense and reason—simply because she has the sense that I need a friend by my side. And if I’m being honest, I think I do need that. I think she’s right.

She deserves the truth of the situation.

“I took Colin in after our mother died,” he said. “He’s been with me ever since—but it’s only been a few months’ time.”

“He’s your brother, then?”

“My half-brother.”