What had he done? The same question played over and over in Galwin’s mind as he slowly made his way home. What had he done?

But there had been nothing for it but to be honest with her. He knew with everything inside him that he could not live with the sort of false marriage she’d described. Even hearing her talk of it had made him ill.

It was everything that he did not want. It sounded like hell on earth.

Worse than living a life without her at all?

He groaned at the thought. No, surely nothing could be worse than losing her for good. And that was an option now, thanks to him. He had issued an ultimatum and put his future happiness on the line.

All these years of chiding Jed on his awful gambling habit and now, here he was, gambling his very heart.

But what was the alternative? Agree to her ridiculous demands and live a shell of a life?

No, that held little appeal as well. All or nothing, that was what he wanted. Granted, at the end he had to compromise, and even that did not sit well. Did he really think he could be happy with a wife he loved more than life itself but who only tolerated him in return?

Yes. He could live with that. It would be painful but better than either of the other options on the table. Certainly better than not having her at all, and better even than living together but separately, a player in his own life.

He climbed the stairs to his family’s townhouse with heavy steps. There was nothing jubilant or victorious to be celebrated today. The wedding tomorrow would be a compromise at best for his beloved.

If she went through with it at all.

He’d nearly reached the stairs, prepared to head to his room with a scotch and a good book—the best means he could think of to avoid contemplating the decision that was coming. The decision that would inevitably change his life, for better or worse.

“Nicholas,” his brother called from down the hall. “A word, please.”

Bloody hell. He had no patience for his brother’s condescension right now. He paused by the stairs, contemplating ignoring Rhys’s summons and pretending he hadn’t heard. But he wavered for too long, and soon enough his brother was in the main hallway, well within sight.

“Back so soon?” Rhys smirked. “But then, I suppose you and Claire have the rest of your lives to make small talk.”

Nicholas held back a sigh at Rhys’s barely concealed smirk. Despite what he’d told his brother, Rhys still seemed to believe that he was shackled with Claire because of some sort of impropriety.

Which, in some sense, was true, he supposed. But no one seemed to understand that it had not been his impropriety and that there was nothing odious about this marriage.

Unless she called it off because she could never love him.

The mere thought made him feel ill. Lord Almighty, how did anyone ever survive love if this was the consequence? He’d always known love was transformative but he hadn’t realized that meant physically. Right now his entire body felt needy and hollow, and his only salvation could come from a petite blonde with a jaded view of men and marriage.

He supposed this was some sort of karmic retribution for his past behavior. Perhaps some deity was having a laugh at his expense—the notorious flirt and shameless rake stricken down by love.

“What is wrong with you?” Rhys asked. “Have you been imbibing already?”

He didn’t answer, turning instead to lead the way toward his brother’s office for whatever it was he meant to discuss with him. Whether he was in the mood or not, his brother rarely summoned him merely to tease. His brother was all business all the time, and right about now he could use that sort of distraction.

Falling into a seat, he stared over the desk at his brother who had naturally resumed his place of authority. “What did you wish to see me about, brother?”

Rhys’s brows drew together. “Are you quite all right, Nicholas? You do not seem yourself.”

That is because I left my heart at the Clevelands’ home.

“I am fine.”

His brother’s lips pursed. “I suppose it’s nerves over your wedding on the morrow, am I correct?” He did not wait for an answer. “That is to be expected. From any man, I assume, but especially for you. This will be quite the change of lifestyle for one such as yourself.” Rhys didn’t try to hide his scorn.

“Is it so very difficult to believe that I have changed?” Nicholas honestly didn’t know if he was asking out of outrage or sheer curiosity. After all, if his own brother couldn’t see the difference in him, how could he expect Claire to believe he was in earnest?

Rhys’s eyes were searching. “Have you?” Pompous amusement filled his gaze. “And here I have been waiting to hear news that the wedding has been canceled.” He leaned forward, not attempting to hide his mirth. “There is a wager on the matter in the books at White’s, you know.”

No, he hadn’t known. He’d been too caught up in his own disastrously confusing love affair to think about attending a gentlemen’s club or to give his peers and their gossip much thought. It should not have surprised him, though. There was nothing gentlemen of the ton loved more than to gamble on the fortunes—or rather, misfortunes—of others. Anger rose up in him as he realized what his brother meant. “I suppose you have money on the wedding being canceled.”

Rhys’s smirk was answer enough.

Nicholas gripped the arms of his chair and glared at his brother. His brother. His own flesh and blood who did not believe that he had the integrity nor the honor to marry one such as Claire.

Rhys arched his brows in the face of his obvious anger. “You cannot fault me for it, Nicholas. I enjoy a good wager as much as the next, and I bet to win.”

“And you were so certain that she could not possibly grow to love me,” he finished for his brother. “You were so confident that I was undeserving that you bet against your own blood.”

Rhys’s wide-eyed shock was genuine, as was the ensuing frown as he leaned forward over the desk. “I never meant to insult you, Nicholas. You are the one who boasts of his conquests and talks of living a life free of responsibilities…”

Rhys trailed off at his glare. He didn’t need to say more. Nicholas remembered the way he’d once talked of responsibility as well as anyone. “I was young and foolish,” he said. “No responsibility was ever asked of me as the younger brother and unlike you I had no titled inheritance to live up to.” He threw his hands up, trying to make his brother see how very differently they’d been raised. “I was promised freedom, money, entertainment. That was the life I was reared for as the spare.”

His brother winced at the term. “You know Mother and Father never thought of you like that.”

He nodded, some of his anger abating. His family loved him—his firm mother, his married sisters in their uninvolved way, his quiet and now sickly father, and even Rhys, the good son. “I know that. And I am not trying to garner sympathy. I’m just trying to explain that I have never needed to be responsible, no one ever relied on me to be the better man. No one had ever sparked the urge to be more and to be better.”

His brother was silent for a moment. “And now?”

Nicholas blinked. Wasn’t it obvious? “Now someone has.”

“Claire,” his brother said.

He gave a short nod. Yes, of course, Claire. “She’s more than you know, Rhys. She’s worth a hundred men like me and so much more than I deserve. But I want to be deserving of her. If I could go back and change my past, I would. But I cannot.”

All his sadness came through in those final words. The resignation, the despair. For now he had poured out his heart and soul and left them at her feet, and there was nothing left to do but wait and hope.

Still, he looked to his brother for some sort of encouragement. As though if he could make Rhys see that he deserved a chance, then perhaps Claire would see it too. His voice was little more than a growl. “I ask you again, brother, can a man not change?”

Rhys didn’t answer immediately. Instead he sat there in heavy silence, his stern gaze never wavering. “I suppose a man can,” he said, “given the right impetus.”

Nicholas nodded. It wasn’t exactly encouraging, but it was enough. His older brother had always been the voice of reason. The responsible, upright, honorable one of the two. Hearing him admit he may have changed was an odd relief. A sort of pardon, as though his brother was the final word on morality.

“If you are so hopelessly in love with the woman you are to marry tomorrow, why the long face?” Rhys asked.

Nicholas scowled. He hadn’t outright admitted he was hopelessly in love, though he supposed he’d made it clear. He shifted in his seat as he thought how to answer. Finally he told the truth with a sigh. “Because there is a chance that you will win that wager after all.”

Rhys regarded his misery. “I take it you would not be the one crying off.”

He let out a huff of laughter that held little amusement. “Not in so many words, no. It’s rather complicated, to be honest.”

“I don’t see why it should be,” Rhys started, clearly about to embark on a lecture—he was using his high and mighty authoritative tone.

Nicholas held up a hand to stop him. “And have you ever been in love?”

His brother frowned. “No.”

“Then on this one topic, I ask that you heed to my experience.”

His brother’s lips twitched up at the corners in rueful amusement. “So you admit it’s love then.”

Nicholas shrugged. “Of course.”

Rhys shook his head slightly. “Of course.” His of course sounded mocking as if it were anything but obvious. “No offense to your intended, but I don’t believe many see the appeal.”

Nicholas stiffened, ready to defend his lady’s honor but Rhys held up a hand to stop him. “I do not mean that as a slight to Claire. Indeed, many see her appeal—she is known to be beautiful and dutiful, poised and kind.”

Ugh. Nicholas’s lip curved up in a sneer at that description. Certainly, it was all true, but it barely scraped the surface of who she truly was.

“No one doubts her appeal, just her appeal to you.”

He smiled at that, the first genuine smile he’d felt since that meeting with Claire. “Well, that would be because no one knows the real Claire, not like I do.”

Rhys studied him again and his gaze filled with something Nicholas could never remember seeing there before. It looked almost like…respect.

“I admire your choice, Nicholas. And I am pleased to see you maturing into the kind of man Father always knew you would be.”

Heat crept up Nicholas’s neck at the unexpected and unfamiliar praise. A new awkwardness sat between them. It seemed neither of them knew how to tread this new terrain.

Rhys cleared his throat and his tone grew serious. “Father is what I wanted to speak with you about today.”

Nicholas’s heart fell. Their father’s health had been steadily declining for months now. The doctors had given them no reason to believe it would turn around but still they had hoped. “Has he taken another turn for the worse?”

Rhys’s mouth pinched as he nodded. “I’m afraid it does not look good.”

Nicholas nodded as well. “Then I will go to him, sit with him for a while.” He already planned to sneak some scotch up to his father’s room so the older man could enjoy a few sips as they visited. Visiting lately meant Nicholas sat at his side and regaled him with stories from the club or read to him from a beloved novel. The duke was too weak for much conversation these days.

Nicholas made a move to do just that but stopped near the doorway, his gaze sliding over to his brother who looked so much older than his years sitting behind their father’s old desk and shouldering the weight of the world.

“You know,” he teased, “you are not getting any younger yourself, Rhys. Perhaps it’s time you found a wife as well.”

His brother rolled his eyes but some of the seriousness eased from his expression. “Not you, too. Mother is constantly badgering me.”

Now it was Nicholas’s turn to smirk. For once, he was the good one in his mother’s eyes now that he had chosen a bride…assuming, of course, that the wedding occurred. “Come now, brother. Perhaps you’ll fall in love as well.”

Despite the pain in his chest from his meeting with Claire and now the news of his father, he had to stifle a laugh at his brother’s look of disgust. “Oh please,” he said. “I have no desire to fall into that trap.” His expression cleared somewhat. “Do not misunderstand, I am happy that it has worked so well for you, but that is not what I need. Far from it.”

He studied Rhys for a moment, seeing his brother clearly for the first time in years. What his brother needed was some fun. Something to divert him from his heavy responsibilities and remind him that there was more to life than duty and obligation. But who was he to tell his brother what he needed when his own life was in such disarray?

He left his brother to his work and made his way up to his father’s room with the drinks and a forced smile for his father’s sake. But his father was still asleep, looking frighteningly frail.

Nicholas stayed with him anyway. He wanted to be there when he woke. Besides, no matter where he was his mind would be fixed on one person and the decision that was coming, one way or the other.