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Xavier paused but didn’t look entirely unsurprised. “Did you?”
I sighed. “Were you ever going to tell me he’s your cousin?”
“That meddling fucking twat isnotmy cousin,” Xavier said fervently. “We are in no way related.”
“That’s not what Debrett’s says,” I countered. “Nor Frederick.”
“I don’t give a fuck what Debrett’s or anyone else says.”
“Big shock,” I replied, already weary of the sarcasm. “But you might, considering he wants to overthrow your entire life along with your stepmother.”
I proceeded to relay what I’d learned in the garden. It only occurred to me at the end that Adam hadn’t even tried to stop me when I left, that Xavier might not be particularly surprised to hear any of it. Indeed, he was watching me speak with an expression that more closely resembled pity than surprise.
“Is that the real reason you’ve been here?” I asked. “It wasn’t about your uncle at all, was it? It was about protecting your estate. Protecting your title.”
“It had everything to do with Henry,” he said. “I never lied to you. But Georgina has spent most of the last three months sniffing around in places she shouldn’t. Why do you think she suddenly enjoys the library so much? She wasn’t allowed to raid the office anymore.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what she thinks she’s going to find. My parents were married. End of. It’s time to move on.”
He didn’t sound very happy about it.
“Why don’t you just let them have it, if they want it so badly and you don’t?” I demanded. “You have your own successful business, and you and I both know this was never where you really wanted to be. If they want the title so much, why not just give it to them?”
“Because it’s not something I can bloody give, is it?” he exploded. “You can’t just give a title away if you don’t want it, Ces. That’s not how it works.”
“There isn’t some way to abdicate or something?”
I was floundering. Obviously, I didn’t know about British law and how it governed things like this, but Xavier couldn’t be the only duke in the history of England who didn’t want to be a duke.
“Not really,” he said wearily. “It’s not something I can choose. The title could lay in abeyance until I pass, but it would essentially mean throwing out centuries of work my family has done to maintain their standing. Am I supposed to be the one to end the legacy of Kendal?”
Yes, I wanted to say. If it made him so miserable, then he absolutely should. Clearly, the only person on this estate who cared about him at all was at death’s door. He didn’t owe anyone else a thing.
But before I could say as much, Xavier continued talking.
“Look,” he snapped. “It’s clear this life is not what you want. I thought maybe you could live with it, being the lady of the manor. Maybe even a duchess one day.”
My heart squeezed when he said it. It was the first time he’d even acknowledged such a future was on the table, only to rip it away.
“You like those bloody stories enough, maybe you’d want to live in one for a bit,” he continued bitterly. “Maybe even enjoy it. But now that you’ve learned it’s not all parties and dresses and what, it’s obviously not for you. I can’t blame you for that.”
My mouth dropped. “I can’t believe you just said that. That isnotwhat my problem is here.”
“Oh, no? You hate the press, the gossip, my scheming relations. You’re lonely and sad, but I haven’t the time to give you enough. None of that will change, Ces. It’s part of the package.”
“You were busy with your restaurants too,” I countered. “I didn’t say anything then. You said yourself, you’redifferenthere, Xavi. I don’t understand why we can’t just, I don’t know, teach Frederick to manage the estate like you wanted and go back to the way things were.”
“Because Frederick is not the Duke of fucking Kendal! I am!” The words themselves seemed to shake his whole body with fury. “I can’t change what I am, Ces. I know you want me to. Just like I spent years trying to ignore it. But the fact is, I am Rupert Parker’s son, and the more I run from it, the worse things get.” Xavier shook his head, shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’m the Duke of Kendal, and there’s nothing to be done about it. I’m sorry.”
And on that note, he turned, yanked the buns off the boiling pot, tossed the steamer onto the island with a clatter, and left the kitchen.
“Xavier, wait,” I called, but he sped up the stairs two at a time, leaving me alone in the basement with a basket of buns growing cold.
I took off the top and stared at the buns for a long minute, then back up the stairs.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” I told his invisible form. “We’re finishing this discussion this time.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Xavier had already disappeared by the time I made my way back up to the main floor of Corbray Hall. Stupid long legs. Honestly, I wondered sometimes if the man was half giraffe, he was so tall.
