Page 20 of A Duke in Her Fate
“Busy day.”
“Indeed.” Ronan glanced over at him, then at Julian and Sebastian who had settled into their seats. “But not busy enough to keep the lot of you away.”
Opening his eyes wide with false innocence, Julian asked, “Whatever is that supposed to mean?”
With a huff, Ronan turned to give Tristan a look. “Did you put them up to this?”
Tristan was the unspoken leader of their group. Known for his calm and severe demeanor, only those close to him in his life knew his ability to offer fair conversation, some advice, and the rare jest. Even now, he seemed to tower over them with grace like a benevolent king.
Never had it so annoyed Ronan.
“I didn’t have to,” Tristan said in response.
Nodding, Julian scooted to the edge of his seat. “We want to be here, Ronan. For you. You know that, don’t you? It’s been years since you let us in. It makes me feel like I’m a desperate wife, trying to get your attention. I haven’t a clue how you can’t imagine why we’re all here for you.”
“Nothing has changed,” he said with a scowl.
“So you’re not getting married, then?” Sebastian inquired with a polite expression.
He couldn’t answer that one way or another. And the silence was another reply on its own. Turning back toward the window, Ronan hoped his back to their presence might give them a clue.
“We care, in case you have forgotten,” Julian offered. “We care that you are well. That you are in London. That you are getting married. All we wish is that you might talk with us. We missing talking to you. Knowing you. We care about you, and now Lady Isla––”
Except they didn’t know her. They didn’t know her bold gaze or bouncing dance steps. They didn’t know how she obviously adored some silly cat and could calculate large numbers in her head. No one knew anything. And how could one care if they simply didn’t know?
It’s hardly as though they even know me any longer. I’m not at all the young man I once was. That was years ago.
“No, you don’t,” Ronan snapped. His patience had worn thin. He slammed the teacup down as he continued. “You don’t know anything, and I don’t want you to, don’t you see? It is simply time that I married. All of you, at one time or another, were on my hide about this.”
Tristan shifted. “We only mean to say we care about you, Ronan. We want to be your friends.”
“Then stop doing what you’re doing. You’re not content when I am unwed and you are not content when I am betrothed. It’s a fair guess how you will feel once I am wed, and that is hardly a matter for any of you. I am sick and tired of being treated like, like a dead fish here, too stinky to be taken seriously,” Ronan sputtered in indignation.
Bitterness sat heavy on his tongue as he breathed hard, staring at the ground. Part of him felt a weight lifting off his shoulders over having to carry this tension every time he was in London.
But as uneasy silence spread across the room, he could also sense how harsh he had sounded to them. A quick look aboutshowed they were exchanging glances with hesitant expressions with evidence of doubt.
“I…” He stepped back against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. The aching in his head had begun to return without his notice. “I only mean that I am tired of this.”
“Very well.” Tristan spoke quietly but softly as he added, “We will give you the peace you appear to seek that is far from us at this time.”
Rising from his seat, Julian nodded. “We wish you well with your union.”
Sebastian copied. “Only the best, of course.”
“It isn’t that, I only…” Ronan couldn’t get the right words out. Possibly because there were no right words. He dropped his hand, feeling the sticky itch of pity filling the room. It made him antsy. He couldn’t stay here. “I have to go. Good day.”
When he fled out of the club, no one followed him. There was a long ride back to his estate and he would be all alone. Though Ronan thought he should feel relief as he took his leave, he found there was a new tension radiating through his shoulders.
I can’t do anything right, can I?
CHAPTER 8
“You haven’t acknowledged me since the ball a week ago,” Isla spelled out carefully in the doorway of her home, “But you wish to take me on an outing today? Now?”
The duke blinked at her. “Yes.”
“Oh. Well, that explains everything.” He didn’t seem to pick up on her humor. She forced a smile before turning––and nearly hitting her mother with her elbow. The woman had crept up while she wasn’t paying attention. “Oh! Mother, I’m off on… an outing. Is that all right?”
