The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(64)

His mind warred with itself. Curiosity about the contents fought with his reluctance to capitulate to what she wanted. In the end, curiosity won. He went to the windows and turned his back to her.

Opening the letter, he saw his mother’s handwriting, not his father’s. He turned his head to look at her. “You wrote this.”

“He dictated it to me. He wasn’t well enough to write.”

So she already knew what it said. Perhaps that was why she wanted him to read it in front of her. He began to read.

Knighton,

That will be your name by the time you read this. You are now the earl, and with that title comes great honor and responsibility. I’ve no doubt you possess both traits and many more that will ensure you carry on the line with the utmost integrity.

I must apologize for so many things, but mostly for my treatment of you. I discounted your abilities when you were young. You were so defiant, so troubled. I truly didn’t know how you would grow to adulthood, and so I think I gave up on you. You were also the third son, which is never an enviable position. In retrospect, your brothers were cruel—and even your mother, though she doesn’t like me saying it and I had to threaten her to persuade her to write the words.

I see what you did in Barbados, the fortune you built, the life you created. You have far more fortitude and intelligence than your brothers. I was sad when they died, of course, but I am not sad that you will be the earl. I can think of no better person to carry on the mantle of duty and ensure our legacy for generations to come.

I love you, son. Be well.

Father





Bran read it a second time, then stared at the words until they blurred together. Blinking rapidly, he refolded the paper and turned toward his mother. “I’m surprised you gave this to me.”

She stiffened. “I promised him that I would. I am a dutiful wife.”

There was that word again—duty. For the first time, Bran felt more than a nagging responsibility. Perhaps he was meant to be the earl. And if he wasn’t, it didn’t matter. He was the earl.

His father was right that he’d built a grand life for himself on Barbados, and he’d done it from nothing. He’d already started to think of things he could do for Barbados now that he was the earl, such as working to free the slaves. Last year’s rebellion had been terrifying and had made Bran take a stand against slavery. He was still in the minority, but perhaps he could use his position to change that.

“You’re rather quiet,” she said, interrupting his reverie. “But then you have a tendency to run toward sullen.”

“I learned to hold my tongue around you. It was that or suffer the consequences.” He took a few steps toward where she sat. “I’m still surprised you gave this to me. Or at least didn’t amend it.”

Her eyes flashed a chill once more. “Duty is the most important thing. Without it, what is our purpose, our worth? We could’ve been born anything—a hapless beggar on the street—but we weren’t. You weren’t.” She spoke sternly, her voice carrying through the room. “You will be the earl, and you will be magnificent.”

It wasn’t exactly a rousing speech in the spirit of his father’s endorsement, but it was almost certainly the best she could do. “I am the earl, magnificent or not.”

She blinked at him, seeming a bit surprised. “Good. I hope that means you’ll crop your hair and accept more invitations. You must get out more. I heard from many ladies yesterday with marriageable daughters. It’s time you searched for a countess.”

Jo rose in his mind, only to be overtaken by his father’s words: I can think of no better person to carry on the mantle of duty and ensure our legacy for generations to come. If she couldn’t give him an heir, how was he to ensure his family’s legacy? His muscles bunched up, and his clothing grew tight.

“When you do go out, you need to act appropriately, as does Lady Evangeline. No more allowing her to gallop about the park astride a horse.” She pursed her lips and scrunched up her nose, looking as if she’d just smelled bad fish.

He’d nearly forgotten why he’d invited her here in the first place. “I don’t need to do anything. As you so aptly pointed out, I’m the earl. I can do whatever I damn well please.”

She stood, staring him down with the frosty glare he recalled so well. “You’ve always been defiant. I suppose it’s too much to expect you to change. I’d say you’ve earned your nickname.”

His neck pricked. “What nickname?” He recalled the ridiculous names Kendal and his friends had told him.

“The Duke of Defiance. Apparently it’s some sort of convention for categorizing eligible bachelors.” She waved her hand. “Nonsense, but in this case accurate.”

Who the hell had started calling him that? “Did you come up with that name?”

She looked affronted. “Of course not. I heard your governess’s sister use it the first time, but by the end of the tea yesterday, I’d heard it from several people.” She took a step toward him. “You see, you must make appearances. Your absence begets rumor.”

“No, you start rumors. J—Mrs. Shaw said that you told everyone I was a difficult child. That doesn’t exactly help me.”

“I was trying to explain away your bad behavior in the park. Do not blame me for your mistakes.”