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Chapter Thirty
Every head in the room turned quickly to stare at Lionel. He shifted uncomfortably, seeing everyone watching him for an explanation. Michael felt as though he was growing dizzy again, or perhaps hallucinating at what Lionel had said.
“What do you mean?” Michael asked softly.
Lionel tried to backtrack, saying, “I didn't mean anything by it.”
“No,” Michael countered. “You said that we were brothers. What do you mean?”
Lionel looked uncomfortably at Ranora who was staring at him angrily. She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Yes,” Ranora sneered. “Tell everyone the truth about Michael's parentage.”
Lionel pulled at his collar, a sheen building up on his brow. Michael glanced from one to the other, trying to understand the tension between them. Lionel turned to the butler and footmen.
“If you please, could we have the room to ourselves?”
The butler nodded, ushering the staff from the room.
“Well, of course, your mother and I were quite fond of each other,” Lionel explained, looking sheepishly around the room as he explained the story to Michael. “Especially after my brother showed his true colors, I tried to protect her from him. We spent a considerable amount of time together.”
“That does not make your affair any more forgivable,” Ranora interjected.
“Are you saying that you are my father?” Michael asked softly, stepping closer to Lionel.
“Yes,” he answered, quietly.
Michael was stunned by Lionel’s admission. “How can you be sure?” he asked.
“Your mother’s own confession,” Lionel told him. “And I quite trusted her.”
“Even still, you and my father were brothers. Surely, I could favor either one of you. And I have my father’s temper.”
“Temper can be learned, not inherited, but you should know that you are nothing like my brother,” Lionel argued. He shook his head sadly. “I had not intended you to ever find out, let alone not like this. You and Joseph were so much like brothers growing up, that I never felt it was necessary.”
“And you knew, all along,” Michael said, looking to Ranora. “And you wanted Joseph to inherit the dukedom, knowing I was a bastard.”
“Such a harsh word,” she replied cooling, but refused to meet Michael’s gaze.
“Joseph never knew?” Michael asked, waving to his cousin, still bound by his hands, sitting in the armchair, quiet for once.
“No, of course not,” Lionel said sadly.
Michael looked back to Joseph. “So, you have done even worse by me, not even knowing. You tried to kill your own brother, all for a title.”
“See, I knew you did not deserve to be the duke,” Joseph mocked. He laughed maniacally. “Ha, you were a bastard all along.”
Michael raised his fist to strike him, but held back again, shaking his head.
“You are not worth it. After all, you have attempted murder. You will go to prison for this, perhaps even hang for trying to kill a duke.”
Joseph laughed again mockingly, as though he could not believe what Michael was saying. So, Michael turned to the butler.
“If you would please, fetch the constable at once,” he directed.
“At once, Your Grace,” the butler said, bowing and retreating from the room.
“You wouldn’t really imprison your own brother?” Joseph asked desperately. “You would not let me hang, truly.”
