“You disinherited yourself,” Alistair said. “When you destroyed that certificate and when you let a boy grow up believing he was a mistake so that you might, one day, sign your name over a title you did not earn.”
Daniel’s mouth tightened, and Blaise smirked.
“I made my choices,” Daniel said. “You made yours. You were content to play the benevolent uncle without bearing the cost of what that boy’s legitimacy would mean. Had you produced proof years ago, your brother would have?—”
“Faced his responsibilities?” Blaise cut in. “Perhaps. Or not. My brother stepped away from his son out of grief and weakness; that is a failing I cannot mend and will carry to my grave. But you—” His hand closed around the back of his chair until the carved wood bit into his palm. “You took a man’s grief and turned it into leverage. You waited for everyone stronger than you to die.”
“Blaise,” Alistair said quietly behind him. It was a warning, the kind he used when Blaise’s temper loomed too near the surface.
Blaise inhaled once, slowly, as the rage burned through him, but he did not intend to give Daniel the dignity of seeing him lose control.
“You want to know what happens to you now?” he asks at last. “Very well. Here is your future, cousin. You will pack your belongings. You will sell your house, your horses, your investment shares, and your damned cufflinks if you must, and you will leave England.”
Daniel stared. “Leave?—”
“For good,” Blaise cut him off as he continued to tower over him.
Color drained from Daniel’s cheeks. His throat worked.
“The law cannot compel me to?—”
“No,” Blaise agreed. “But I can.”
Daniel gulped.
“Understand me: if I ever hear your name whispered anywhere near my nephew again. If I hear so much as a rumor that you are stirring up talk of his parents’ elopement in any way disadvantageous to him, I will not go to the courts. I will come directly to you.”
He saw the moment Daniel believed him, and his bravado withered.
“Alistair and I have taken the liberty of preparing a list of ports that see frequent traffic to the Continent and beyond. You will leave within the week. You may take your pick of destinations, so long as they are not on English soil. Write to your solicitor with instructions for the sale of your estate, and that he must be discreet. I have seen to it that he now understands the value of discretion?”
“Y…yes,” Daniel whispered in a small voice.
“If you ever step near English soil again, you will not live another day. Now, get out of my seat and out of my house.”
Silence stretched as the fire sputtered.
For a moment, Blaise thought Daniel might actually attempt to brazen it out, to fling some final insult. But perhaps even he could recognize when the board was cleared. He got up unsteadily and walked to the door, shutting it without a second glance.
Alistair cleared his throat as a sense of relief filled the room.
“I should go,” he said. “Before our dear cousin changes his mind and attempts some dramatic leap out of a window.”
Blaise squeezed his shoulder and let him go. “Thank you, Alistair. This would not have been possible without you.”
“And that lovely widow of yours,” Alistair whispered and winked at Blaise.
Blaise glanced at the door. He hoped that Daniel had not said anything to her, but Iris proved her strength, and she handled weak men well.
Alistair watched him with that speculative gaze that always made Blaise feel both seen and uncomfortably exposed.
“You realize,” he said, “that you have just handed away a dukedom most men would kill for.”
“Yes, our own cousin would have,” Blaise murmured.
“Daniel would have killed for a well-cut waistcoat,” Alistair said. “But you are not most men.”
“No,” Blaise said. “I am tired; that is what I am.”
