Dorian would never forget that speech. It was the moment when he had known that he would never have children; that he would do everything in his power to stymie his father’s dreams.
Yes, I gave that speech,the late Duke of Nottington growled. But you are weaker than she was.
“I am nothing of the sort. ” Dorian laughed convulsively. “I have defeated you. ”
You have ensured my victory.Because you let her go. You lost the love of your life. And why? Over me? Because I couldn’t love you? Who cares that I couldn’t love you! I was an evil man who didn’t love anyone. But there have been many who have loved you over the years: your mother, your sister, your friends. Why should you give up the best thing that has ever happened to you just because of one man?
Dorian narrowed his eyes. This didn’t sound like his father. His father would never have called himself evil.
He’s trying to trick me,he thought wildly.
“Stop speaking to me,” he spat, and suddenly, without warning, he leaped up onto his desk and seized the edges of the portrait of his father. “Stop speaking to me!” He shouted. “I don’t want you saying another word to me!”
Because you know it’s true,his father guffawed.Because you know you lost her and that you will regret it for the rest of your life.
“Silence!” Dorian roared, and then he drove his fist through the portrait, right through his father’s face. “Silence!” He shouted again. He punched the portrait, and then hit it again. Jagged rips tore through his father’s body. Nothing had ever felt so satisfying in his entire life. He had never struck his father before, even after his sister’s funeral, when he had been sorely tempted, and now he hit the portrait again and again, loving the way the canvas sounded as it split in two, as the last picture of his father was destroyed, erasing his image from the world forever.
And as he punched, Dorian began to speak, without even considering the words he was saying.
“Don’t ever speak to me about Leah, you miserable bastard! You’re wrong about her. I haven’t lost her. I am going to get her back, I am going to do everything I can to prove to her exactly what kind of man I am. And she is going to forgive me, because she loves me, and because I love her, more than I could ever imagine loving a person in my entire life. And--”
Dorian froze, his fist raised. He was panting, and sweat was pouring down his neck and back. His heart was hammering in his chest, and his breath was coming in short gasps.
What was he saying? The words had come from him automatically, instinctually. They had seemed to move throughhim from somewhere deep and hidden, a place that was all animal reflexes.
He stared down at the portrait, or what was left of it. The canvas was in tatters. It was unrecognizable now. Even if someone had tried to piece it back together, Dorian wasn’t sure that they could have. It was no longer the late Duke of Nottington. It was nothing. Just some paint on some canvas, surrounded by a frame.
His father’s ghost was finally gone.
Dorian dropped the painting. It clattered to the floor, the wooden frame breaking. Very slowly, he stepped down from the desk and then sank down to the floor, until he was sitting cross-legged on the ground. After a long moment, he put his head in his hands and began to weep.
It had been a long time since he had cried like this; racking sobs, that made his entire body shake. But it felt good. Almost as cathartic as punching the portrait into a pulp. It felt like a release of all the feelings, all the regret, all the pain, and all the fear that had been building inside of him for a very, very long time.
At last, the tears subsided. He held himself for a long moment, then stood up. Everything felt suddenly clear. It was as if the tears were like a rainstorm that had swept through a cloudy day, pushing all the clouds away and leaving only clear skies behind.
He loved Leah. She loved him--for now. And he had to get her back. No matter what it took. He had to prove to her that he hadbeen wrong, that he was ready to be the man she needed him to be.
Power surged through him. He had never felt so sure of anything, so ready to take on whatever task flung himself in his way to keep him from her. Of course, the most Herculean of tasks would be getting her to forgive him. But as the feeling of love began to soar through him, lighting up his insides, he felt certain that he could do it.
At that moment, there was an urgent knock on the door.
“Come in,” Dorian said, and to his surprise, his voice sounded happy. He touched his face and was shocked to find that he was smiling.
When the butler entered, he also looked surprised. His gaze swept from the grin on Dorian’s face to the ruined portrait on the floor, to the empty space behind the desk where it had once hung. His eyes went wide again.
“Your Grace, there is someone here to see you.”
“Is it the duchess?” Dorian asked at once.
“No,” the butler said, flinching slightly, probably remembering Dorian’s instructions from mere minutes ago not to speak of her again. “It is your solicitor. He says that it is urgent.”
“Send him in,” Dorian said. He felt practically ebullient as he seated himself behind his desk and waited. Moments later, the solicitor entered, a worried frown creasing his face.
“Ahh, Gibson, how are you?” Dorian said, standing.
“Your Grace--I received an alarming document today. Usually I would not have thought twice to file something with your signature and seal on it, but this truly shocked me, considering that you were only married a few weeks ago.”
“What are you talking about?” Dorian asked, his smile vanishing at once. The worry on Gibson’s face, along with the mention of his marriage, put him on high alert.
