After a moment had passed, he got up, his big body unfolding from the chair he had taken. He moved to the sideboard where he reached past Charlotte and grasped a china cup from the service. He met her gaze briefly and then walked to the other side of the room and promptly threw the dish at the wall.
Charlotte flinched as it smashed into a dozen or more pieces, the sharp crash of it silencing the fray.
“Enough!” Ewan signed, and she translated despite her shaking voice. “Enough of this. I have no idea why you three are here. You say you want to see what you think should be yours? Well, look around. This is it.”
“Yes, this is it,” Josiah hissed, and he stalked past Charlotte on his way toward Ewan. She scented liquor on him, far more than just the sherry he’d taken here in the parlor. “This home, these things, those horses in your stable, those pieces of shit who work our father’s land and somehow worship you. That name you drag around behind you through the mud, making us all look like fools with your damaged mind and body. The Silent Duke, indeed. Should be the Idiot Duke.”
Charlotte leapt forward. “You bastard,” she hissed. “What do you know of his mind or his heart or anything else? Your heartless family turned your backs on him when he was a child.”
“He’s lucky we didn’t shoot him in the barn,” Josiah barked into Ewan’s face. “That’s what you do with lame animals.” When Ewan didn’t react, he spun on Charlotte. “And what do you care, my lady? Or are you making yourself the fool’s whore, as has been the rumor for years now?” Spittle flew from his mouth, and Charlotte flinched away from it. “What did your husband think of taking someone touched for a lover?”
Chapter Seventeen
Ewan had heard every ugly thing about himself a hundred times or more in his life. His father had spread those words on thick, his brothers had too. Boys his age, ones who weren’t his friends had mocked him…he’d even overheard a few ladies here and there, whispering ugly things. Those words had certainly scarred. He’d taken them into his skin like a tattoo, and they lived there, a permanent reminder of what he was…and wasn’t.
But now Josiah wasn’t talking about him. He was talking about Charlotte, and a red veil of rage that was unlike anything Ewan had ever felt before closed over his vision. He could see nothing but hatred. He could feel nothing but revenge.
He lunged forward and caught Josiah’s lapels, backing him toward the door in three long steps. His brother clawed at his hands, eyes wide as he sputtered, “What are you doing? Unhand me!”
Ewan ignored him. He pushed him all the way through the foyer and to the front door. There he found Smith waiting. The butler’s eyes went wide for a moment as he took in the scene before him. But then just the tiniest smile spread across his face.
He met Ewan’s eyes and then opened the door so Ewan could push Josiah out. He shoved and his brother staggered down half the stairs before he caught himself.
“Well done,” Matthew said, startling Ewan.
He’d been so angry that everyone else in the room had all but vanished. He now turned to find Charlotte and Matthew standing close by. Matthew looked somewhat pleased at his display, but Charlotte was harder to read. Ewan’s gaze flitted to his aunt, Baldwin, and the Duchess of Sheffield. They each stayed at the entryway to the foyer and their expressions were a mixture of admiration and concern.
His mother and youngest brother were between them. He looked past Charlotte and Matthew, met his mother’s eyes and then lifted his hand to point toward the exit. His entire body shook as understanding flowed over her face. He didn’t need a notebook or a series of signs to make it clear what he wanted.
She straightened her gown and moved past him, Roger on her heels. Ewan turned to look at them, gathered on his drive. Josiah was still glowering up at him.
“I’ve seen enough. You can’t hide, Your Grace. Not anymore. You’re going to be sorry,” Josiah growled. “That title will not be yours, and it certainly will not flow through you to anyone but me. You’re going to be sorry.”
He pivoted and took off for the carriage. Ewan watched him go, chest swelling with anger and regret and a small bit of anxiety. He’d thought the fight for the dukedom had ended three years ago. Apparently, it had not. Though what had inspired Josiah, Roger and their mother to show up here now, right now, was beyond him.
He slammed the door so he could no longer hear his brother’s ranting and turned to face the others.
Everyone was silent for a beat, and then Matthew gave a half-smile. “Well done, Ewan.”
Charlotte jerked her gaze to Matthew, and Ewan could see she looked surprised by his congratulations. She returned her attention to Ewan and her eyes danced with emotion.
“You threw them out because of me,” she signed.
He nodded. She let out her breath and he realized she was frustrated. “They could have said anything in the world about you, couldn’t they? That bastard could have called you whatever he liked, could have tried to lay claim to all that is yours, and you would have done nothing.”
Ewan shrugged and signed, “You matter.”
She caught her breath, horror replacing her frustration. “You matter!” she signed, her hands flying wildly as she sloppily spelled out those pointed words.
“Do either of you want to tell the rest of us what you’re saying?” Baldwin asked, leaning in a bit closer.
Color darkened Charlotte’s cheeks, but she snapped, “No!” Then she continued signing to Ewan. “You matter, Ewan. To me, to all the people in this house, to your tenants, to your friends. Why does what your father or your brothers or your mother say mean more to you than what all of us think? If I matter so much, then why can’t my love for you have as much weight as your father’s hate?”
He flinched at the directness of her question. She seemed to recognize it too, in that moment. Some of the anger left her eyes, replaced with guilt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning her face.
“Neither one of you wants to say what you’re discussing?” Aunt Mary said, her gaze settling on Ewan with gentleness.
Charlotte stared at the foyer floor, her shoulders shaking. “I-I am out of sorts. I should…I should go elsewhere.” She lifted her gaze to him. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, softer, her teary gaze holding his for a beat before she turned on her heel and fled the foyer.
Leaving Ewan to stare after her, uncertain how to proceed. Luckily, he didn’t have to decide. The Duchess of Sheffield looked at the group at large, but her gaze lingered on him. Like she understood something that hadn’t been entirely clear to her before.
“I’ll go speak to her,” she said with a small smile for him. She patted Baldwin’s arm and then followed where Charlotte had gone.
Everyone left behind in the foyer seemed to be waiting for him to respond in some way. He dug into his pocket and found his notebook. He scribbled, “I need a moment. Excuse me.”
He handed the note to his cousin and left the room, heading for his study. Hoping he could clear his mind. Knowing it might not be possible.
“How long have you loved him?”
Charlotte caught her breath and spun to watch her mother enter her chamber. The Duchess of Sheffield closed the door behind her and leaned back, observing her daughter with a knowing stare.
“Always,” Charlotte admitted with a sigh that felt like it came from the depths of her soul. “From the first moment I saw him. Childish love. But it turned into something much deeper.”
Her mother’s brow wrinkled. “Then why did you marry Portsmith, Charlotte?”
Charlotte bent her head. It sounded like such a simple question and it wasn’t. But she had no energy to try to hide the truth anymore.
“I went to Ewan before my marriage and I tried to confess my heart to him. But what you saw down there, what those people have done to him, said to him, how they’ve treated him…it holds so much weight. The past keeps him from taking our future. He refused me all those years ago.”
Charlotte turned and stared out the window to the sea. On this day, she saw it, rolling and crashing against the cliffs. Beautiful and treacherous, rather like the feelings that still swelled inside of her.
“It broke my heart. But I tried to make the best of it. I knew what was expected of me. I hoped I could make it work with Portsmith. But married or not, Ewan was all I loved. All I wanted. So here I was, coming to his home with my mourning coming to an end. I’d heard all about these love stories blossoming for our friends, I’d seen the power of Simon and Meg’s connection up close. It made me long for Ewan all the more. I was determined to try again. I would do…I have done everything in my power to try to make him see that we could have a future.”
The duchess’s eyes went wide and her cheeks brightened. “I see.”
“But he still insists that what those fools, those cruel, empty fools, say is important. He still sees himself as damaged. And he’s still afraid that the damage will destroy our happiness in the end. So I think he will turn away from me once more.” The tears she had been fighting won out and began to slide down her cheeks. “And this time he will be lost to me forever.”
“Oh, darling,” her mother said, stepping to her and folding her into her arms. Charlotte clung to her for a moment. “If it helps, I think he does love you in return.”
Charlotte shut her eyes. Ewan loved her. That did not come as a surprise, of course. Some part of her knew that, perhaps had known that as long as she’d known her own heart. “And yet he pushes me away at every turn,” she whispered.
“Have you told him this is the last chance you will be able to offer?” her mother asked, drawing back to look at Charlotte closely. “Have you made that entirely clear?”
“I’ve asked him to make a decision,” Charlotte said. “And told him that when I return to London, I will go back to the marriage mart.”
Her mother sighed. “That should be enough, but sometimes men need a little extra…push.”
Charlotte considered that a moment. “Perhaps you are right. I bought him a gift. The shopkeep in town was supposed to have it delivered here today, but instead he’s asked me to come retrieve it myself.”
The duchess’s expression brightened. “I think that’s a fine idea, actually. You and I could go to town to retrieve this item. Give yourself some space and give Ewan space, too. Let him speak to his family and to your brother. Let him have a moment to consider what is before him and what he could lose.”
“And then when I return,” Charlotte continued for her. “You think I should present my gift and ask him once more to allow for a future?”
Her mother nodded. “Yes. He is a good man, and a good match for you. You’re of a similar temperament, he makes you smile, you seem to lighten him. That is what a mother wants for her daughter. Plus, he’s rich as Croesus and has a fine title to boot.”
Charlotte tilted her head back and laughed at her mother’s mercenary finish to her heartfelt sentiment. “Well, he is that, I suppose. It’s good to know you are still sharp as a sword when it comes to finding good matches for your children.”
Her mother smiled, but Charlotte thought she sensed trouble in her stare. “I want what is best for you,” she said. “That is all I’ve ever wanted. If you can be happy while you have what is best, then all the better.”
Charlotte wiped at her eyes and drew a long breath. “Very well, I will try your plan, Mama. Should we go to town then?”
“Yes,” her mother said. “I’ll fetch my wrap and then off we’ll go.”
Charlotte squeezed her mother’s hand before the duchess departed the room to get her things. Once she was alone, Charlotte moved to the window and stared out at the sea once more. As volatile as it was, there was beauty to it. Allure that could not be denied. The same felt true when it came to Ewan and the risk she would take later today when she asked him once more for the heart he so carefully guarded.
She only hoped she would not end up dashed on the rocks.
Chapter Eighteen
Ewan had been left alone with his thoughts for slightly more than an hour when his study door opened and Matthew and Baldwin joined him. He was sitting in front of the fire when they came in, and looked up with a slight shake of his head as he reached for the notepad on the table beside him.
“You waited longer than I thought you would,” he wrote.
Matthew read the note out loud as Baldwin got the two of them drinks. He laughed. “Well, that would be my mother’s doing. She thought you needed some time to think before we invaded your office.”
Ewan nodded slowly, taking the notebook back. He wrote, “And she didn’t join you for that invasion?”
“No,” Baldwin said as he flopped himself across from Ewan with a sigh. “I think she assumed we might want to call you an ass, or worse, and she didn’t wish for us to have to watch our language in front of her.”
Ewan turned his face and stared once more into the flames as he waited for the berating to begin. Instead, Baldwin leaned forward, elbows draped over his knees. He touched Ewan’s arm and force him to look at him.
“You love her,” he said softly.
Ewan nodded. There was no denying it. He didn’t even want to anymore.
Matthew’s eyebrows lifted. “I’m happy you admit it. But do you intend to push her away?”
Ewan scribbled, “No! That is the thing about it. I actually have no intention of turning her away. Not this time.”
Sheffield sagged a little in his chair, relief over his features. “Thank God. I really wasn’t looking forward to calling you out at dawn for breaking my sister’s heart. Then why the argument in the foyer? Why hole up here in your study for an hour, sulking?”
Ewan glared at him, though he could hardly deny the charge. “Seeing my brothers and my mother brought back strong memories,” he admitted. “It’s hard not to carry that on my back.”
Both his friends softened considerably and Ewan was pleased that it was Baldwin who spoke first. “I cannot imagine. To be honest, I’d almost forgotten how awful that lot can be. Seeing it today, I wanted to put my fist through someone’s face.”
“What Charlotte asked me when we were arguing in the foyer was why her love wasn’t more powerful than my father’s hate.” Ewan hesitated and wrote a bit more. “That hurt me. But it hurt because I recognized it’s true. I’ve spent my life allowing his words and his actions to dictate all my own. I’ve spent the last hour here thinking about what I’ve avoided or thrown away because of him. And what I intend to do about it now.”
“And what do you intend to do?” Matthew asked.
He sighed. “I intend to…” He hesitated again as he tried to find the right phrasing. “…to live. Out in the open. I’ve hidden a long time.”
Matthew nodded. “I know a bit about hiding.”
Ewan reached out and squeezed his cousin’s arm. No one knew loss and grief more than Matthew. Ewan had seen him through many a dark night after the loss of his fiancée. Death was so very permanent in what it stole.
But what Ewan faced didn’t have to be. He’d lost Charlotte once, but fate had brought her back. To throw away his chance a second time was…well, it made him the very fool his father had accused him of being.
“I meant to ask Charlotte to marry me when we returned from our visit with the tenants today, thinking that I would bring her into my world. That we could live here where we’d be protected. But now I realize that what I must do is allow her to draw me to her life. To the world I’ve avoided so long.” Ewan wrote slowly, keeping an eye on Baldwin as he did so. “And if you will consent, Baldwin, I still intend to do so.”
Matthew read the note out loud and Baldwin began to smile. “I long ago learned that my sister is capable of making her own decisions without even thinking of me. But if it is my consent you need, you know you have it. From th
e bottom of my heart. Marry my sister.”
“I’m afraid that may be a very bad idea.”
The men all jumped to their feet to find the door to the study had been opened and the Duchess of Donburrow now stood in the entryway. Smith edged his way past her. The butler looked pinched and irritated even as he tried to maintain some decorum.
“I’m so sorry, Your Graces, I could not stop her,” he panted.
Ewan waved off Smith’s apology. His heart throbbed as he moved toward his mother and then wrote, “What are you doing here? How dare you make judgments on what I should and shouldn’t do? You divorced yourself from my life long ago.”
She winced as she read the words and then glanced back up at him. Normally she was utterly cold when she looked at him. Now there was emotion in her eyes.
Fear.
It felt like fingers closing around Ewan’s heart as he saw that fear and searched for a cause.
“I realize I have no place here,” she said softly. “But I had to return. You see, you are in danger, more danger than you know, if you intend to marry Lady Portsmith. Or anyone, for that matter.”
Ewan glanced back in question at his friends, and they joined him to stand before her. Matthew cocked his head. “Just what do you mean by that?”
She flinched. “There was no coincidence that we showed up on your doorstep today, Ewan. Your brothers and I didn’t come simply because we were at a nearby estate. That just made the coming easier.”
“Explain yourself, madam,” Baldwin snapped. “You’re talking in riddles.”
Ewan nodded, as confused and annoyed as his friends. He was just happy they were saying exactly what he was thinking.
“I will. I’ll try, at any rate.” She hesitated, almost as if she were struggling with what to say. Then she sighed. “Since the matter of the title was resolved three years ago, Josiah has been…plotting.”
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