The Accidental Duke (The Mad Matchmaking Men of Waterloo Book 1) by Devlin, Barbara (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📕

“Fight.” In a startling display of emotion, Mama clenched a fist. “Fight for your future. Fight for your wife. Fight for the life you were destined to lead. More important, fight for what you deserve, my darling boy.”

“I’m afraid.” No, Anthony was terrified. “I’m a coward, Mama.”

“Of course, you are afraid. That you admit it speaks to the contrary, in terms of cowardice. Indeed, you are no milquetoast.” She brushed aside a lock of hair from his forehead. “Fear is only natural, but you must not let it stop you from achieving all that is possible with Lady Arabella, as I daresay she covets the same goals.”

“What if I am incapable of giving her what she wants?” In an instant, he reflected on the past, on the battlefield, on the countless casualties, and on those first waking hours in a medical tent, when he came alert in a panic. “In so many ways I remain trapped at the escarpment, at Mont Saint Jean, and I would argue I left the best part of myself at Waterloo, but I do not refer to the lower portion of my arm. What if my cooperation results in Lady Arabella’s destruction?”

“I believe you underestimate yourself and your future bride.” Mama cupped his cheek, as she often did when he was a boy, and even now the simple act comforted him. “You are stronger than you realize. You survived the hell of war, you are safe, and you returned home a hero. While I would never presume I know what you endured, I can say it is pointless to dwell on the horrors you confronted or define your life by what is done. Whatever you do, you must move forward.

“As for Lady Arabella, I know her mother quite well, because His Grace and Lord Ainsworth share a longstanding acquaintance. To your benefit, your fiancée is educated, and she is no prim miss, if I have judged her accurately. I thought she might have a positive influence on John, and I am even more certain she will succeed with you. Indeed, she is the sort of woman who can give you the chance at a love match, and I could not have picked a better bride, so I urge you not to take her for granted.”

“I would never do that.” In fact, his goal was just the opposite. And he never considered himself a hero. The true heroes of Waterloo remained in that mortar-scarred land, forever committed to the annals of history as a statistic. As a number, bereft of individual recognition. While those of the noble set were brought to England for internment, those with no money or prestige were reduced to naught but a faceless aggregate, in a mass grave with no headstone. “Can you not see that I am trying to protect her?”

“You like her.” With the hint of amusement, Mama stepped back and appraised him. “Don’t deny it.”

“I’m not denying it, because I am quite fond of her. Although I cannot say why, there is something about her.” A series of cherished vignettes played before him, as his fiancée offered unshakeable support and sweet kisses, and he clung to the reassurance Lady Arabella provided even when she was not with him. Somehow, she touched him without actually touching him, and in the short span of their renewed acquaintance, he had come to rely on her. “I need her, Mama. I cannot say why, but the prospect terrifies me, because, even though I survived Waterloo, I don’t think I could withstand her rejection. That just might be the end of me.”

“Then give her no reason to spurn you.” Mama took his hand in hers. “Have the courage and strength to be a good and faithful husband. Share your world with her, and she will do the same for you. Give her your heart, and she will gift you hers. Hurt her, and she will serve you still. She may even forgive you, but she will never forget the pain you caused her.”

“All right.” He pondered her reasoning, but he could not escape the suspicion that Arabella was better off without him. Yet, he wanted her.

“Then there will be no more talk of leaving England.” Mama arched a brow. “Your father told me about your plan, and I have to admit I was quite vexed that you would depart without saying goodbye.”

“Is there no privacy in this household?” He cursed under his breath. “Sorry, Mama. And I would have composed a note.”

“Yours would have been a failed enterprise.” She compressed her lips. “Because your father would have found you, no matter where you fled, given his influence reaches far and wide.”

“You speak as if from experience.” And Anthony ruminated on the implication.

“We all have our secrets.” Something in Mama’s bearing struck him, and he contemplated the meaning of her declaration. “I would spare you the same regret.”

“You left my father?” Stunned by the prospect, Anthony stumbled and almost fell, but she steadied him. “You tried to break free?”

“Once.” She sighed. “A long time ago, when I was but seven and ten, and your father insisted I give him the heir for which I was contracted. I ran away, but he found me and brought me home. Confined to my bedchamber, I had no visitors save him, and we conceived John shortly thereafter. Three months after giving birth, I was pregnant with you. After that, he left me in peace and saw to it that I wanted for nothing.”

“Can you really say that?” Anger spiked, given what she suffered. Her horrific revelation did much to explain his father’s perspective of marriage, and Anthony gritted his teeth in disgust. “While I am well acquainted with our laws regarding women, I consider what he did an abomination, if not criminal. And what of you? Do you not want something more?”

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace.” Walker, the longtime butler, loomed in the doorway and bowed. “But