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Chapter 1
Dinner that evening was noticeably tense. Eating with his father, Lord Harry Erasmus Victor Graham, Duke of Gloucester, was always mildly uncomfortable, but Robert had come to expect that. Tonight, however, had been practically unbearable.
Robert always knew something was bothering his father when his left hand shook. He usually held it clenched upon the table regardless of the situation. However, he’d been left with a tremor after being thrown from his horse when the animal was startled by a hare emerging from the forest rather unexpectedly three years ago.
He had sustained several other injuries, but the tremor was the only lasting one, and it only acted up when he was upset. Tonight, it shook so hard against the table while they were eating that it sounded as though someone was knocking at the door to the dining room the entire meal.
Robert had noticed it immediately, but he knew that his father liked being the one to bring up the topic of whatever was bothering him. If Robert had pointed it out to him, it only would have made him more irritated. If he had asked him what was wrong, that would have made Lord Graham likely to explode, as that question was his least favourite of all.
And so, Robert had silently slurped his soup, looked out the window into the increasing darkness falling over their majestic estate, and tried not to look at his father. He pretended to be very interested in a loose thread that was protruding from a button on his jacket for an extraordinarily long time, almost long enough for him to finish his meal.
When the butler came to take his bowl away, Robert breathed a sigh of relief that Lord Graham hadn’t said anything to him at dinner, and he retreated to the library hoping that he wouldn’t follow him. Lord Graham positively despised books, after all.
For about an hour, Robert thought he might be in the clear. There were no footsteps outside his door, and no one interrupted his re-read of Aristotle’s, Poetics. Robert began to relax more into his comfortable armchair and even went as far as to slouch, as there was no one around.
After an hour and five minutes, however, there was a soft knock on the library door. Robert immediately tensed and shut his book, straightening his posture.
That crafty man. He waited just long enough to make me think that I was in the clear and then came in for the kill when I was vulnerable. The problem is that I simply cannot think of what I could have done wrong to have made him so upset.
“Yes?” Robert called in the direction of the door.
He heard it open, and so he turned around to see who it was. It turned out to be Edgar Montrose, his father’s personal valet.
“Excuse me, Lord Robert. Your father would like a word with you in his study at your earliest convenience,” Edgar said, as gently as he could.
“Thank you, Edgar. I shall come at once.” Robert made his comment sincerely but shot Edgar a look that asked, How bad is it?
“Very good, Lord Robert,” Edgar replied politely, but he widened his eyes as far as they would go to respond to Robert’s look with, Far worse than the worst you could imagine, I’m sorry.
Edgar then bowed and left the room. Robert immediately began feeling panic rising up into his throat. He quickly thought back through all of the interactions that he’d had with his father in the last few weeks, desperately searching for what he could have possibly done wrong.
He also scoured the things that he had done in the past few days to see if any of them could have possibly been misinterpreted by his tyrannous father, but nothing sprung to mind. Finally, when he could think of absolutely nothing he could have done to bring on his father’s rage, he sighed, rose from his chair, and marched down the hall to meet his unfortunate fate.
When he arrived at the door, he closed his eyes briefly to calm himself and then knocked.
“Enter,” his father’s voice boomed.
Robert had to stop himself from flinching when he heard it. It took all his willpower to enter the room, and when he finally laid his eyes upon his father, he knew that Edgar had not been exaggerating. Lord Graham’s eyes were so full of fury that Robert genuinely feared for his life.
He sat at his enormous desk in his monstrously large chair at the other end of the room and glowered at Robert. The young man had feared his father his whole life. He was an imposing, intimidating figure who loomed over everyone he stood next to. This was largely because he was six feet tall, and his figure was similar to that of a bull.
He had long white-blond hair with eyebrows and facial hair that matched, a product of a lack of pigmentation revealed at birth. Also because of this, his eyes were an unnatural grey colour, and when he stared at Robert, he always felt as though he was peering straight into his soul.
“Robert,” Lord Graham growled. “Take a seat.”
Robert did as he was told and took up the chair directly in front of his desk. He knew better than to say a single word until spoken to, and so he remained silent, doing his best to meet his father’s icy gaze.
“Are you aware of why I called you in here?” Lord Graham continued, knitting his fingers together in front of him on the desk.
“I am not, Your Grace,” Robert replied submissively. He thought that whatever honesty he could offer would greatly assist him in this situation.
Lord Graham let out a low chuckle that sounded like a block of ice being dragged across a frozen pond. It made the hair on the back of Robert’s neck stand on end.
“You are lying to me,” Lord Graham told him.
Robert considered his options momentarily: he could lie and say that his father was correct, he could continue to tell the truth and insist that he had no idea why he had been called into his study, or... he could run. He felt that honesty was still his best hope, and so he decided to try and insist. Running did sound rather tempting right now, though.
“I’m afraid, Father, that I must swear to you that I am not. I do not say this to …”
