[The Inconvenient Matches series is comprised entirely of stand alone novels that can be read in any order]
Forced into marriage by duty and obligation, The Duke and Duchess of Rothbury parted ways a week after saying their vows under the explicit u...
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Ben stood at the door of his mother's room, waiting for her to compose herself, knowing she would hate for him to witness such an uncouth display of emotions from the unflappable Dowager Duchess. When the sounds of her sobs had finally quietened, she rasped out, 'You may enter, Rothbury.'
Hesitantly, he stepped into the room to find his mother sitting in a chair by the fire, clutching a piece of parchment in her fingers. Benedict was at an entire loss for what to do. This was the same woman who had wept only once upon learning of Charlie's death, not even at his funeral.
What the devil had happened?
'I swore to myself,' she began on a whisper, 'that I would not.....be difficult with Her Grace. But every time I look at her, all I can see is the fact that they did not even care that my son had died. She married you without blinking an eye as if...... as if Charles meant nothing. As if his death was a mere insignificance. I look at her and see the daughter of a man who thought nothing of exploiting us at our weakest. It makes me hate your father for what he did to you, to our family. I look at her and I cannot help but feel so angry.'
'Mother...' Benedict searched for words to offer her, completely dumbstruck by the mirror she held up to him. He had never thought they were similar in any regard, and yet. He took the seat opposite to hers and took her hand, a gesture very foreign to their relationship.
Yes, this was the same woman who had placed unimaginable pressures upon his shoulders since he was young. The woman who had demanded nothing less than perfection from him at every turn.
But she was also the woman who had gifted him his first book. The woman who had come to visit him at Eton in his first year because he had been terribly homesick. The woman who had ensured that fish was never served while he was in residence, no matter how much both his father and brother loved it. The woman who had held his hand while he had gotten into a bathtub the first time after almost drowning.
Fuck.
Life had been easier when he hadn't really put much thought into the complexities of being human.
'I miss him so much.' She tightened her grip, with the other hand offering him the piece of paper she had held in her hands a minute ago. It was a miniature of the three siblings; Ben was holding an infant Ophelia in his arms, Charlie standing smiling beside the two of them.
'I do too. Every day.'
'It was my-' She broke off, her voice thick once again. 'It was my fault, what happened to Charles. I understand why you have not forgiven me still.'
His eyes nearly fell out of his head.
'What? I thought it was you who blamed me.'
She looked at him then, her heartbreak evident in her eyes.
'No. When he died, I was so lost that I did not care who I hurt with my hurt, I just needed it to make sense. In doing so, I made my son hate me.' A fresh sheen of tears lined her gaze. 'A thousand times, I have tried to write a letter to you. A thousand times I have tried to visit you. But I was too much of a coward to face my own poor behavior. To face the possibility that I was beyond your forgiveness. '
