Authors: Anabelle Bryant
Duke of Darkness (31 page)
“Yes, Your Grace. I was on my way to find you. A visitor has arrived.” Reeston reached forward with the card.
“Lord Hasselby? I am not in the mood. Send him away. Where did you put him anyway?”
“He waits in your study.”
Devlin grunted his disapproval. There would be no avoiding him. He sent a glare in the butler’s direction.
“You should see to the matter. If I may overstep my bounds, the truth will do you good.”
One black brow rose in objection. “Perhaps. Bring us coffee. I have the notion this will not be easy news either in the delivery or in the acceptance.”
He strode down the hall, but paused before turning the door handle. What exactly could prove so pressing that Hasselby need come to Kenley Manor so soon after mentioning his desire for an appointment? Devlin had no wish to revisit the past or dredge up the old stories associated with his family history. He’d said as much at Hasselby’s social. Now, the old man persisted. A thread of apprehension coiled his gut. He did not wish for unsettling news. He was happy, or at least at peace, with the past he accepted as true, and he looked forward to his future with Lexi. God help Hasselby if he thought to interfere with his plans. Hesitant to procrastinate any longer, Devlin strode into the room.
“Good morning. This is an unexpected visit. What can I do for you?” He walked with purpose towards the elderly man, shook his hand, and moved to his desk to drop into his chair. Then he picked up a crystal paperweight and turned it in a slow rotation. He waited.
“Thank you for seeing me. I was unsure if I should come, even though I laid the seeds for further discussion when I approached you at my social. But then with the news of your engagement, well, I reconsidered the entire situation. Before you settle down, you should know about your mother. It is time for me to break my selfish silence and come forward. I am here to set the record to rights.”
Reeston entered with coffee service, poured two cups, and served before he left, closing the doors behind him.
“I’m not sure I wish to know what you have to share. I’ve found a new life for myself and I plan to be married. I am content. Will your information soothe my mind or complicate my future?” He eyed the man with cynical derision.
“I predicted your reluctance, but I must insist. This is something you should know. You’ve lived with the consequences of the mistruths, distortions and rumours for too many years. I feel partly responsible. I have been lax in my duties and self-serving in my silence.” Hasselby sat in the leather armchair facing Devlin’s desk. A conflicted expression marred his face. Devlin could only surmise the confession would bring the man more peace than himself. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t heard every version of his parents’ past imaginable. At one time during his young adulthood he’d sought out every rumour, every retelling, in hope of discovering something to exonerate the terrible truths he’d come to accept over time. But nothing surfaced to achieve his goal.
Now, he’d have to face the old demons again. Perhaps it was worth it, for no other reason than finally to lay the situation to rest.
“I ask that you allow me to tell you everything before you interrupt or ask questions. I am an old man, foolish in some ways, and regretful of many of my choices. Once I begin to reveal the truth of what occurred years ago, I wish to have it out in one breath.”
“Then by all means proceed.” Devlin did not utter another word, nor did he look at the formidable man who stood to pace in front of the desk. He would allow his request and he would listen. He doubted anything could change the past he’d come to accept, but he would listen to the man speak.
“Your father and I were close friends. We finished school together and came about our titles and fortunes with ease. Sometimes it leads a man to foolish acts, when life is so easily managed and success so readily attained. We discovered we favoured many of the same interests, none of them honourable: women, liquor, gambling, even opiates on occasion. Your father embraced his reckless habits and I stood right there beside him, encouraging him, enjoying his adventures, as I would dabble myself, but not commit to the extent of his excessiveness.” Hasselby paused, and blew a long sigh. “I had bigger plans. I intended to take up my seat in Parliament and although I was known as a rebel-rouser, I refused to mar my reputation to the point of ruin. Your father had no such intentions. He was introduced to your mother and instantly smitten. She represented everything good in the world and while he continued his dark activities, he believed when he returned to her each night it somehow cleansed him of his misdeeds.” Hasselby cleared his throat and took a sip of coffee.
Devlin watched every action, each nuance of the man and his confession. He speared him with a stare as a bevy of questions flooded his mind, but he did not interrupt.
“Your father’s use of opium soon grew out of control. Your mother begged him to stop. She forbade him from inviting his associates to Kenley Manor, as your father would at times bring home disreputable characters and doxies, much to your mother’s shame. As his friend, I allowed him to use my estate instead. We’d hold parties of the very worst kind. I won’t elaborate. You are a man of the world, I am sure you understand. Meanwhile, your father declined and I watched his devastation. I warned him to slow down, but by then the opium drove his actions more than his mind. We were in the middle of one such evening party when your mother arrived at my home. She was angry and demanded entry, somehow managing to force past the servants and into the room where our scandalous behaviour was conducted.
Your father grew enraged. Perhaps the shame of it all, or the challenge of his authority …” Hasselby shook his head in a slow line. “I have thought of it often, and wondered what forced him to react with such anger, but he railed at her that night. They stood on the upstairs landing as he tried to force her to leave. She fell from the grand staircase to the wooden landing below. She likely broke her neck. She never awoke.”
Devlin stood and Hasselby held up his hand. Devlin noticed it shook with the retelling.
“Let me finish.” His voice was stronger than his repose. “Your father was in no condition to face the consequences of his actions. We secreted your mother to one of my carriages and dismissed the servants. Once at Kenley Manor, we laid her in a position to appear she’d taken her own life. You see, I was rising in reputation at Parliament and forging a name for myself. There was no way I could throw it all away with a scandal of that proportion; to have a murder committed in my home while, at my invitation, whores and opium were liberally used. I was damned afraid and I couldn’t face the consequences of the foolish decisions I’d made.”
Silence pressed against Devlin’s heart. The room screamed with it. The melodic chime of the mantel clock rang with pristine clarity.
“Your father suffered a fast decline afterward. The drugs claimed his mind. People enjoyed the scandal, eager to spread rumours of his behaviour and elaborate on tales told at social functions. The story grew to ridiculous proportion and I never offered the truth. My behaviour was unconscionable, unforgiveable. Now I wish you to learn the truth and know that not a single day has passed since I committed that grave sin, when I’ve not reflected on the choices made. The rest you know as it is your own history.” Hasselby ended with a long exhale.
The old man wandered to a far window, his back turned as he finished his story and Devlin viewed him, his fists clenched at his sides. He could have the man thrown from his estate. Call for the authorities. Beat him senseless. The latter held appeal, but even within his rage, he realized it accomplished little aside from venting his anger.
Hasselby turned and approached. “You should know you do not have a damaged mind, nor should it be a concern as you marry and grow a family.”
Hasselby’s final statement cut through Devlin’s haze of fury.
Lexi.
His temper mollified. He would not engage this man, this despicable accomplice in betrayal, but nor would he would grant him the forgiveness he sought by confessing the truth at this late date. “Reeston will show you out. This conversation is over.”
Devlin left the room before Hasselby could reply, and it did not matter. Alexandra was upstairs. The answer to his prayers, tucked in his bed, waiting for him. Nothing mattered beyond that. Nothing else made any sense, except climbing the stairs and embracing her to his heart. He would find the peace she brought to him.
Lexi sat up in bed when he opened the bedchamber door having just finished breakfast. Henry snoozed on the blanket beside her.
“Devlin, I missed you.” A smile of pure happiness, complete with fetching dimple, lit her face as she tilted her head to meet his eyes. “Did you miss me at all?”
She looked lovely and slightly ruffled, imperfect from her bed rest, as if he’d just had his fingers in her hair and lips on her skin. The idea warmed him to his soul.
“I missed you before I ever met you.” He came to the bed and disposed of Henry. With prompt efficiency, he removed his waistcoat and dropped it unceremoniously over an armchair. Then he took her hand, intertwined his fingers with hers, and pulled it to his lips, to kiss her smooth skin. His eyes fell shut and he inhaled fully.
“What is it? Are you all right?”
The sudden alarm in her voice caused him to smile. She was enchanting, his love, his Lexi.
“Oh, I am for ever all right now.” He stretched out beside her and gathered her in his arms. “With you by my side, I truly believe myself mad … madly in love, Lexi, madly in love with you.”
CARINA™
ISBN: 978-1-472-09641-8
Duke of Darkness
Copyright © 2014 Anabelle Bryant
Published in Great Britain (2014)
by Carina, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
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