“Yes,” she assured her sister. “Thegentleman does return.”
Stepping out of his carriage a few days later, Knight stared up at the manor house in which he’d grown up. The ducal seat in Yorkshire. It had been years since he’d been here. Not since he’d left Oxford. By then he’d been able to afford his own accommodations, and as he and the duke had constantly been at odds, he’d worked to put himself into a position that he was never beholden to the man.
As a result, the sight of the now decrepit building came as a shock. It was rather like the ugliness of the duke’s soul taking physical form. How had it come to this?
The front lawn was naught but weeds and brambles, the setting of a Grimms’ fairy tale in which witches and ogres dwelled. He wasn’t certain he wanted tosee the gardens at the back in which his mother had taken such joy. He suspected no gardener tended these grounds any longer. Based on the grime visible on the windows, he doubted any servants were about.
As he cautiously made his way over broken pavestones, not wanting to turn an ankle, he had a moment of wondering if he might find the skeleton of the duke inside. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard of a sighting of the man, wasn’t even certain if he was fulfilling his duties in the House of Lords. He did know he wasn’t in London, because he’d gone to the duke’s residence in Mayfair, only to discover it locked. He still had his key, so he’d let himself in and had been greeted by a house shrouded in white sheets and dust. Little remained of the furniture. He’d been unable to venture a guess as to how long since anyone had walked the hallways.
Therefore, he’d come here as it seemed the logical place to find the man who had raised him.
At the top of the steps, he found that door locked as well, but again he had a key and made quick use of it. The hinges creaked as he shoved open the portal, and he remembered a time when he and Francis had been able to sneak out without getting caught because everything was kept well-oiled. Perhaps if it hadn’t been so, they’d have not managed to creep out unnoticed in order to go for that fateful midnight ride.
He stepped into the once-grand entryway. No shrouds over anything, but the dust was thick and lacy spiderwebs decorated the elaborate molding and the giant crystal chandeliers. Gingerly, he made his way from room to room, horrified by the lack of care that greetedhim. Surely the man he’d once called father was not in residence. He had to be at the earl’s estate. A rat squeaked and raced by. How could anyone live here?
He considered going up the stairs and checking in the master’s bedchamber first but decided to carry on to the library. The duke had always dominated that chamber. It was where he read, went over his accounts, met with anyone of import, and delivered a slap to his mother’s second son. At the reminder, Knight felt a stinging in his cheek, a phantom sensation to be sure. He would never lay a hand on any of his own children.
Although it was late afternoon, a few hours yet before the sun bid its farewell, still the shadows encroached within this domicile as though they were permanent residents, free of the sun’s power to chase them away. Strange odors wafted in and out. Dampness, the leavings of creatures. He suspected rodents might not be the only inhabitants.
The door to the library was yawning open, no liveried footmen standing guard as in the past. But then he’d yet to see anything that was as it had been in the past.
He strode into the chamber and staggered to a stop at the sight that greeted him. Everything within this room was as run-down as the rest of the residence, empty shelves where books had once lived. The man sitting in the faded brown velveteen chair near the fireplace was not yet a skeleton but wasn’t far from being so. Skin and bones. He’d once dressed immaculately. Now his clothing hung off him.
“What the devil are you doing barging in here?”the duke rasped as though he’d not uttered a word in years.
“What’s happened to the estate?”
He licked his lips, picked up a glass of amber liquid, and swallowed some of the contents. “Poverty. The estates no longer provide an income—at least not one that covers the cost of maintaining them properly.”
“Hence you gave up? You wouldn’t even try to salvage this place? What of your pride? This is the legacy you will leave to your bloodline?”
He cackled. “It is the legacy I leave to you.”
Another attempt to punish him, but in this one the duke would find no satisfaction.
“It is not.” Knight advanced until he stood before a man he’d once longed to please, to have him bestow upon Knight some semblance of approval. Now the rotter could go to hell for all he cared, and he suspected he was well on his way to an eternity of fire and brimstone. “You have forbidden me to marry, to have legitimate children, an heir to pass this onto. Why would I pour any of my hard-earned coins into this property?”
“Your pride will have the better of you. You’ll invest in it.”
Knight glanced around before leveling his gaze on the duke. “Not unless I wed and have the potential for an heir. In which case I’ll return both estates to their former glory.”
“You can afford all that will be required to do so?”
“Ten times over.”
The old man looked at the empty hearth, filled with ash, the remains of his life. “No.”
“So be it. This then remains the legacy toyourbloodline. It will crumble around you and those who carry the blood of your ancestors will know you were not a fitting guardian of what was left by those who came before you. I am also your legacy, however. Because of your hatred of me, I am the remarkably successful man I am today. I wanted to exceed your expectations, make you proud, make myself worthy—not realizing it was an impossible feat. But I no longer seek to impress you and am happier for it.”
The duke glared at him.
“Five years ago, I broke a promise I made to a woman in order to make a promise to you. In a few days’ time, I will break the vow I made to you in order to honor the one I made to her. We will have children. One of those may be a son.”
The duke tried to stand but fell back against the chair. “I will see him destroyed. He cannot have this. You made a vow to me.”
“I made one to her first. You can threaten me all you want, but you’ll not lay a hand on any of my children.”
“You vowed on your mother’s life. I’ll take her from you.”
