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“You don’t deny it is yours.”
“I…” Gamston struggled for words, his voice quivering. He held the letter away and looked around.He is looking for a weapon. “You mean to blackmail me? What—is a poet’s income not quite enough for you? Hm?”
“I want nothing from you except the truth, but for that…”For that, I will need to share a few truths of my own.“Milena… she was my mother.”
Benjamin swore the name echoed around the room—the name alone. It refracted off every surface, every wall until the sound of it was so strong it buckled the Duke’s knees. Then came the sound of crisping paper.
“You lie.”
“I do, but not about this.”
“You are Milena’s son…?”
“You were Milena’s lover.”
Gamston drew back, and his armchair scraped against the floor as he stumbled against it. His breathing grew harried, and Benjamin watched in delight as thirty years of mystery revealed themselves in his eyes. Suddenly, he darted toward Benjamin, seizing his face in his hands, searching for… something.
A hint of my mother in me.
“I see it,” he whispered and flinched away. He looked at his hands as though they were covered in blood. Benjamin was sullied for his touch. He rubbed his face against the shoulders of his own coat.
“You do not deny it, then? You will not attempt to talk me in circles?”
“What is the point when you have all the proof you need here.” He ran a trembling hand over the letter, smoothing it out. “You are her son. Then, you have come for—“
“I have come to understand why you saw fit to destroy her, why you cast her away. You know what became of her, after all.” With each word he uttered, Benjamin grew restless. He had not spoken of his mother since her death, not at any length. The word alone,her, was like picking at an old wound. He snatched the letter back, and his voice rose to a shout as he said, “You know, because you wrote to her! You know because you watched it happen!”
“No!” Gamston yowled back. “No, I would never have let her waste away if I had known what she intended. If I had any power over it. Take from me whatever you will, but I will not feed you a lie.”
“Then what is the truth?”
“I loved her.”
“Youlovedher?” Benjamin echoed through gritted teeth. “Youusedher. You abandoned her. Now, you would claim love? Where was your love when she was drinking herself to death? Where was your love when she needed you most? When her son needed you most?” His anger coursed through him so strongly that he felt as though he were on fire.
“Don’t speak of us as if you know what it is to love someone you cannot have.”
Benjamin started, his breath catching in his throat. “No, I…” He growled and began pacing. “Do not turn this around on me. This is about you and what you have done.” A beat. “I want to know how it happened.”
“If you have read the letter, then you know.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
The Duke hung his head in shame. He walked away, turning his back to Benjamin, and settling before the fire. Benjamin let his head hang back, too, and a tear dropped down his cheek. It was the only one he would allow himself.
“My wife chose your mother for her charm. She did not expect her spirit to ensnare me as it had her, but it did.” The Duke leaned against the mantle. “As soon as I laid eyes on her, I knew I would be forever bound to her. It took years before,” he paused, his throat thick, “before I succumbed to my baseness.”
“Did you… did you force yourself—“
“No,” the Duke sighed. “I would never have hurt her. What grew between us was dishonorable, but it was real. Your mother… she was all I could ask for and more, but I could never claim her truly.”
“Why?”
“You know why. You may not have been born in my world, but you know how it spins. Wheels and cogs. I could leave the Duchess no more than I could leave my post.”
“Then you should have left my mother well alone.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I have erred more than I care to say… but loving and losing your mother is the worst thing I have ever done.”
