Page 41 of The Not So Perfect Duke

Damon smoothed her hair. “Until I met you, I lived my life a certain way, free from turmoil and emotion. Most times, I never even bothered to learn a person’s name, regardless of any so-called intimacy shared. Because to me, there was no warmth involved. A temporary selfish pleasure, nothing more.”

He exhaled. “I am a cad, even with my friends. Why they still offer friendship, I’ve no idea. For I have done nothing to deserve it. My mother asked me, ‘are you your father’s son?’ and I had to think about it because, in many ways, I am.” Damon cupped her cheeks, tilting her head upward to catch his gaze. “But I don’t want to be. Not since I met you. You have infected my very heart and soul.”

“You make me sound like a disease,” she teased.

“If you are, then I welcome it. Slowly but surely, you have changed my life. I want to be a better man. One that deserves—you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and Althea blinked them back. “Oh, Damon. What is happening between us?”

“Something—extraordinary. But we will take this at a slow pace. Or whatever pace you wish. You set the terms, and I will follow them. I will follow you—to the ends of the earth.”

He captured her lips, but this time, the kiss held all the tenderness and reverence Althea had no idea Damon even possessed. Then he ended it, took her hand, and kissed it. Oh, she loved it when he did that. Without thinking, she grazed the back of her fingers across his cheeks. Already golden stubble was evident along his jawline, and the roughness of it made her skin tingle.

Althea could not stop touching him. Damon moaned and leaned into her touch, and they stood that way for several moments as if reveling in the connection. A bond was forming between them, and Althea could sense it. Finally, perhaps even reluctantly, Damon took a step in reverse.

“I want more, but as you said, a kiss—for now. I have much to tell you,” Damon said. “Come and sit on the sofa with me, for I want to hear about the servants’ interviews. You go first.”

Once they settled, she turned partway to face him. “There is not much to report. Most of the servants are recent, as there has been a high turnover through the years, according to the cook, Mrs. Canning. She knows of your father’s reputation and some of the rumors. The party he gave a few months ago was the first one of that type in years.”

“MacClery believes he was trying to recruit new blood, as it were, for his charity home,” Damon said. “Many in his circle are too elderly or have died. Chellenhome had no money for the past four months, and my father died with only thirty-five pounds in his account and over one hundred pounds in unresolved debts. The walls were closing in on him. There was no more property to sell except for Chellenhome. And you have seen it. It is not worth selling.”

“And what did you find at Chellenhome? Did you bring the safe?” Althea sat enraptured, listening to the incredible narrative of all that had transpired.

“We have the safe. We retrieved it at Penn’s Grocer. With all the renovation at Queen Anne’s Gate, I should bring it here, would you mind? That way, once it is opened, you would have easy access to the contents.”

“Of course. We are trying to find someone who can open a locked safe. But poor Mrs. Seddon. Is she well?”

“I offered to have the village doctor drop by, but she claimed the man was incompetent. Do you think Doctor Buchanan would consent to examine her and the children? They have been deprived of proper food for weeks. I will pay him for his time.”

Althea nodded. “I will contact him at once.”

“I wish to be there. And I would like for you to be with me.”

“Yes, of course. The young girl that latched onto you—”

“Chloe,” he replied fondly. “The little imp pulled on those tight heartstrings. Apparently, I have them, much to my astonishment.”

“Chloe? Wait, I’ll fetch the ledger.” Flipping through the pages, she found it and passed it to Damon. “She is the last entry.”

Girl age 5

Mother: Máiréad O’Connor prison Newgate

Name: Chloe O’Connor EC

“EC. Edward Cranston. So, she is my half-sister. My God.”

“Chloe’s mother was incarcerated. Which means your father kept in contact, probably through Browning.”

Damon nodded. “Mrs. Seddon stated Chloe arrived four months ago, brought by Browning. The girl was withdrawn and hardly spoke. Chloe said her mother is dead.”

“To a 5-year-old child, dead may mean gone—in the broadest sense. I will go to Newgate and ask to see Máiréad O’Connor and find out the particulars. They keep the women prisoners in a separate ward, so I will be safe enough. I will go first thing tomorrow morning. Now, the seventeen children living at Chellenhome.” Althea wasn’t sure how to broach this.

“Yes?”

“Besides Chloe, there are four more with the EC initials by their names. Have you thought about what you are going to do?”

Damon sighed. “I have thought of nothing else. To assist any of my father’s progeny, perhaps I should concentrate on those who need the most support, those at the home. Perhaps the past is best left—in the past. The simple but alarming fact is I cannot help them all. The dukedom is not all that wealthy. I thought it was only the names my mother gave me, maybe a few more beyond that, but it is literally dozens and dozens. Perhaps hundreds.”