Roses and Flames

Chapter 25

It was worse pink of Ambrose standing over him, laughing at his discount feature, while the man who was his half brother weathered this good news with good humor and sang-froid. Are you alright? Samuel was looking down at him with a bemused expression that split into another green. And oddly familiar expression, for it was rather like the one that Patrick saw when shaving. Now he was encouraged to see the similarities, it was plain that they were brothers. From the coloring, eyes, the height of forehead and position of ears, were all similar to his. There could be no doubting it.

The Duke held out a hand, ignoring his silence. “I suppose this rather comes as a shock.”

“You have no idea.”

It had been the rush of the knowledge that had done for him, just now, the new facts pushing the old certainties from his head. And the knowledge that he had been wrong, so very wrong, about the one thing he had been most sure of. Ambrose could never be his. She was his sister. His feelings for her, no matter how powerful, were vile and fetid. All his adult life, he had known himself for a sick dog, or a beast, Sinner, unworthy of the company of the one woman he wanted most. No amount of distance, violence or Bible thumping had offered him any kind of really.

Then, in an instant, he had been washed clean. The well manicured hand still hovered over before him, blurring slightly as the last of the swoon cleared it self and his pulse returned to normal. Patrick gripped it and allowed himself to be pulled up right.

“It was a great shock to me as well.” The Duke supplied, trying to put him at ease. “I had grown quite used to the fact that I am the last leaf of the family tree.”

“I am a natural son,” Patrick said, still confused by the man’s joy at this news. “I hardly thinks that counts me as a part of your tree. A weed beside it, perhaps.”

“Better than that blasted, bare ground.” The Duke was staring at him with the strange hunger, then pulled forwards into a brotherly hug. That lifted him clapping firmly on the back, then that you grabbed him by the shoulders, and held him apart, staring into space as Patrick had to the other, moment ago.

The Duke was memorizing the features, cataloguing, comparing, finding the agreements just as Sam had done and nodding in revelation. You have no idea what a relief it is to find keen of any kind when one has resigned oneself to being alone. There was no response Patrick could offer to this but a blank stare. He had never felt the need of a brother and certainly did not want to the father and sister that he had thought he had. It was better, so much better, to think oneself alone than to have those. Now, he had been thrown into another family that he did not wish for.

His feelings must have shown on his face, for the Duke looked away in embarrassment. “I am sorry. I did not think. You know all too well what is like to be alone. But that has changed for the both of us. I will acknowledge you, of course. And I will help you in any way I can. I would have done it for Ambrosia’s sake, of course. But there is so much more reason now.”

Ambrose.

He had forgotten the past events of the hour. Lady Ambrosia Thorne was now engaged to the Duke of Mayberry, who was, apparently, his brother. It was like losing her, only to think he had won her. And then to lose her again. Everything had been settled between the three of them. It would be most unworthy of Patrick to spoil the happiness of his brother and steal Ambrose’s his best chance at a match. The decision to create a more than an instant to make. It might be unworthy but he would do it in a heartbeat. Ambrose loved him. Her words and actions had proved it, just an hour ago. Patrick owed nothing to this interloper. Despite what the Duke might think, they were still enemies. All the goodwill and kittens in the world did not change the fact.

“As I said when we first met in the garden, your help will not be required,” Patrick said, softly.

The Duke’s eyes widened in surprise, as he thought never considered the possibility that some one might refuse him. “What reason could you have to deny me? See surely I can open doors for you that you could not open yourself.”

“I have been content with making my own way thus far,” Patrick reminded him.

“Pat.” Thorne’s voice held a fatherly warning to mind his manners and accept the charity of his betters. It gave him a hysterical desire to laugh in the man’s face there was no earthly reason he needed to follow the advice. Thorne might have raised him, but the pretenses were so false as to render the relationship without any kind of value.

“And now you might be more than content,” the Duke said. “You must be my personal physician as Ambrosia suggested. It would be little more than an honorary position for many years, I assure you. I am young and healthy. But there would be a stipend attached to it. And the honour of association. I suspect that there would be many women who would actively seek you out.”

 Ambrose. He was struck dumb yet again and if he was not careful, he would faint for the second time in his life, right here on the office carpet.

“And you said she knows of this already?” The Duke looked to Thorne for confirmation. “It makes her actions so much clearer. The eagerness that we meet. The suggestion that I take you on.” The Duke was grinning at him again. “For a time, I quite thought that there was something else to it. But now it is clear. You will be as dear as a double brother to her. And dear to the both of us.”

 If they do cut his way, Patrick would be just as separate as he had always been from the one woman he had wanted and forced forever into her company.

“You presume far too much, your grace.” He pulled away from the man who held him and shook the wrinkles from his quote as a distraction from the thoughts racing in his head.

“You are an ungrateful brat, Patrick.” After what he had done, Thorne seemed to think that he had a right to an opinion.

Patrick turned his anger on the more deserving target. “You have no right to lecture me on it, now the truth is out full So what are you to me, Sir after all this time?”

“Only the man who raised you”, Thorne said.

“And fed me on lies like they were mother’s milk,” Patrick snapped back. ”For Ambrose’s sake, we will not discuss the extent of your perfidy. But do not think for once that I have forgiven you for it.”

Thorne’s eyes widened.” She is my daughter. I did what was best for her and for you as well.”

From the other side of the room, Patrick heard a soft clearing of the throat and remembered that they were not alone with the argument. He turned back towards the Duke and stared at the man in silence. Did the Duke really think that it was an honor to be abandoned by one’s father that one had no identity at all? Then Patrick had been wrong about him. The man was a fool.

“I can see that it will take some time for us to get used to the knowledge has been imparted, and to digest the change and decide what to best to do about it,” the Duke said, still the soul of diplomacy. It was clear that he did not think himself in need of delay, but he meant to hold his tongue and bite his time for the sake of his brother. He reached out a hand and patted Thorne upon the back. “Thank you, for my father and myself and the service that you have rendered all these years to my family and for revealing to us now.”

They were the right words for the circumstance and it made Patrick feel all the smaller for his petulance, no matter how justified it might have been. “ And now if you gentlemen will excuse me?” He gave a gracious nod as if he had already received the affirmative response and excused himself from the room.

Thorne stared at Patrick and let out a hiss of disapproval.” You might be the son of a duke, Hastings, but it is clear that you have received none of that family’s grace. Ambrosia was right to choose the duke over you, for you are behaving just as I had assumed that you would.”

“That you for confirming that,” Patrick said.

“Her happiness is the only thing that has mattered to me from the very beginning and you never meant to be a part of that.” Thorne was smiling in triumph, like a priest in the throes of religious mania.” Go ahead. Run to her. Tell her everything. Try to turn her against me. See if she thanks you for it.”

Ambrosia looked up to her father with the adoration that only a daughter could. In her eyes, he could do no wrong at all. To hear otherwise would crush her.

“No Thorne. I do not think so. In order to do that I would have to be willing to break Ambrose’s heart and claim that it is for her own good. The day I do that I prove that I am truly your son.”