Chapter 353 – Duke
Ella
“D-duke?” I stutter out, completely overwhelmed by the information, my eyes going wide. “There are dukes? And I had I have an uncle!?”
“I’m sorry,” Henry says, and I can see the guilt written all over his face. “I overlooked this – honestly, no one has heard from him in years – and, considering what we think he was actually getting up to, it makes a great deal of sense that he wanted everyone to believe that.”
“Who,” I say, frantic now, looking between Henry, and Sinclair, and Roger – Cora, I see, looking at me with worried eyes, but I know she doesn’t have any answers – “who is he?”
“Relax, Ella,” Sinclair murmurs to me, leaning close. “It’s all right -”
“It is absolutely not all right -“I snap, not wanting to be mean but completely panicked right now. “My father is dead but I have an uncle? Seriously? And no one told me?”
Henry continues to hang his head, shaking a little, and I instantly feel guilty. It’s not his fault – it’s so complicated, the politics, and why would he tell me about an uncle if he hadn’t spoken to the man in 30 years had genuinely assumed he was dead –
“I’m sorry, Henry,” I say quickly, leaning forward to put a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry – I’m behaving so poorly – ”
“No, Ella,” Henry says, moving his attention back up to me. “Your reaction is absolutely correct. I have failed you in this.” His eyes shift to Sinclair now. And you, son.”
“We have to stop this,” Sinclair says, shaking his head. “Honestly, the blame game does no one any good. No one blames you, dad and Ella, you don’t have anything to apologize for. We all know this is a lot. So, can we please?” he says, pausing now to look around the table. “Can we continue? There is… more…”
I groan a little and give Henry’s arm a little squeeze to let him know I don’t blame him for any of it, and that I love him dearly and am grateful for him every day. At least, I hope he gets all that from a squeeze, but the little smile he sends me suggests that he understood at least part of that. And I feel instant relief.
“Xander was your father’s older brother, Ella,” Sinclair informs me briskly, I think a little irritated at the disruption and wanting all of the information on the table now so that we can decide to do something, instead of just talking about it. I smile at him a little, loving my all-action Alpha mate who is ready to go even though he almost got burned to a crisp yesterday.
“He was much older,” Henry says, ” and there were always…rumors about whether or not his father was his biological father. Either way, Xander was recognized, but he was never the favored son. That is why Xavier – stronger, faster, smarter, better-liked – took the throne instead of Xander.”
“A stance which I actually think is quite clever,” Roger quips, and I’m shocked to find a smile on my mouth as he delicately raises his brows, looking up at the ceiling. “I mean, some of us think that the better-looking brother should always take the throne – ”
And while Sinclair growls and Cora elbows Roger not-too-gently in the stomach to get him to stop, I grin at my brother-in-law, grateful for the laugh which has drained some of my tension away. He gives me a little wink in response.
“Anyway,” Sinclair continues, glaring at his brother, “Xander was never a popular figure in politics – he was always fringe, always very much the King’s sullen brother rather than a real player. When Xavier died, Xander…he wasn’t even considered for the throne. No one said his name, not even him, as a potential heir.”
“Which,” Henry adds, “was perhaps… the mistake. That started all of this.”
“Started what?” I ask, confused again.
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