The Pearl (The Godwicks #3) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,83
felt too badly if it had been.
“No,” Charlie said. “You don’t have to tell me or show me. I knew.”
“You knew? Then why did you sleep with her?”
His brother gave a sad self-deprecating laugh. “Why? Because of you. Because you get absolutely everything all the time and forever and ever. You get the title and the houses and the respect, and I get sod all and jack nothing.”
Arthur sat down hard on the coffee table, across from Charlie. He tried to meet his brother’s eyes, but Charlie wouldn’t look at him.
“I know I’m a fuck-up,” Charlie said. “Why not? No one expects me to be anything else. Dear Mummy and Daddy already have their perfect daughter and their perfect son. I might as well not even exist. Why should I bother?”
Charlie touched his jaw and winced again. It was starting to swell.
“Stay,” Arthur said. “If you’re not here when I come back from the kitchen, I will find you and break your nose.”
“I’ll be here.” Charlie’s voice was small and defeated. Arthur wanted to hug the stupid boy but knew Charlie wouldn’t allow that. With a sigh he left the sitting room and went into the kitchen to put ice in a tea towel. Regan had been right. Charlie had slept with Wendy on purpose, out of spite, hurt pride, and self-pity. As much as Arthur wanted to punch his brother again—how many people would kill to be in his shoes with his family’s money and power and the Godwick surname?—he also wanted to shake him until he realized that none of the titles and inheritances meant anything. Arthur would have traded his titles to the first person he saw walking down the street if it meant Regan would call him and tell him where she was.
And with that thought, he knew what he could do to help Charlie.
He returned to the sitting room and gave Charlie the ice. The swelling wasn’t bad, but the bruise would be nasty.
“I need to tell you something very important,” Arthur said, standing in front of Charlie. “So pay attention.”
Charlie met his eyes.
“I’m going to marry Regan Ferry,” Arthur said.
Charlie laughed. When Arthur didn’t smile, he stopped laughing. “You’re joking.”
“No.”
“She’s richer than we are. What’s she want with you?”
“You’ll have to ask her that. But it doesn’t matter. I’m marrying her as soon as I can.”
“This is fast, Art. Like…you’ve known her a month.”
“Our own mother and father were married one day after meeting. One. Twenty-five years later, and they still can’t keep their hands off each other.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Sorry. Anyway, for reasons you don’t need to know or understand, we won’t be having children,” Arthur said. “Therefore, I’ll be naming you my heir. The Godwick line will continue through you and your children whether I die tomorrow or sixty years from now.”
The silence in the room was so deep and long Arthur could hear Christmas music being played by the Hyde Park buskers.
“God, you’re serious,” Charlie said. He sat up straight, the first time Arthur had seen him sitting in anything other than an angry slouch in two years.
“I couldn’t be more serious.”
“What if, you know, you two change your mind?”
“We won’t. And as my heir you can’t go on like this. You’ll either be the seventeenth Earl of Godwick or the father of the seventeenth Earl of Godwick. Your gap year is officially over, starting today. I don’t care where you go to university but you’re going. If not university, then Sandhurst. I’ll let you decide, but you are not going to spend another day wasting your life when you’re the heir to a massive estate and a title that will need protecting and managing. The drinking has to stop. Spending money that’s not yours has to stop. And your friends are not friends, they’re hangers-on who will drop you the second they realize they can’t squeeze another penny out of you. Do you understand me?”
Shockingly, Charlie nodded. He even looked almost contrite and even…possibly…maybe…a little bit proud.
“Have you told Dad any of this?” Charlie said.
“No, but I will at Christmas.”
“But what if…” Charlie sat up even straighter. “What if you two don’t end up getting married after all?”
“Then we’re still in the same boat. Because it’s her or no one, and I’ll still need an heir.” Arthur smiled at him. “Someone’s got to be Lord Dogshit the Seventeenth.”
“Right,” Charlie said. “I’ll talk to Dad about what he thinks I should do—university or Sandhurst. Although I’d thought about maybe…LSE?”