Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Daphne,” the Duke of Wolfcrest muttered, even though he knew she could no longer hear him.
Adrian had said something he could not take back.
He felt it the very moment she stormed out of the room and away from him.
He felt it even more when he saw the closed door between their bed chambers.
Even though he wanted to talk to her, cajole her into seeing the situation his way, he didn’t dare turn the knob.
What if it was locked?
Daphne said she understood what he needed, but that could not be right. What did she mean? Why did she storm away in such a manner and retire early? Why is the door closed?
He stared at the door, willing it to open, but it did not budge. Adrian released a weary sigh.
Whatever the case might be, he didn’t feel it was right to demand her duties be fulfilled when she was angry. With other women, the emotions had never mattered. With her, it was everything.
Adrian went back downstairs to his study and threw himself into his work, as he often did, especially when he was younger, when revenge still burned hot in his heart.
Whenever he was not buried between the pages of his ledgers, he moved from his townhouse to his other gaming hells, The Hanged Man and The Devil’s Due being the most prominent.
“How could she think I could give these up?” he muttered.
Daphne offered him a chance to walk in the light with her, but he drowned himself in more darkness. He spent nights in the private rooms, avoiding her stare completely and focusing all his energies on preserving what belonged to him.
He had been too careless at the Obsidian Card, openly presenting himself as a beloved patron.
No more of that. When he left his study so he might visit The Hanged Man and The Devil’s Due, Adrian used different names and wore various disguises, even one in which he played an impoverished man who scrounged for money to buy the gold needed to play.
It was interesting, to say the least, for people to watch him with distaste as he walked around in his tattered clothes.
“You’re here again? Don’t you think you should be using your money for something important? Like food?”
“How does he get money to be here all the time?”
Kettering would sometimes pretend to take him into custody or throw him out whenever he needed time to rest in the private rooms. The pair had managed to fool most of the underworld. It helped better when the Duke was not there as himself.
Whenever he felt the need to see Daphne, he let himself remember how he had almost lost her in the fire. They could have both died then.
The Duke drove his men to work harder. Kettering continued to run the establishments since most of his employees did not even know who the true owners of the gaming hells were.
But Adrian became more involved than ever.
Each time he strode, shuffled, or limped—depending on the character he played that night—into one of his operations, he felt a renewed sense of power.
He was not cowering at home, waiting for the next rogue to strike out against him. He was in the thick of the melee, observing everyone with equal attention, ready to strike out at all those who would seek to harm what he cared for most dearly.
Daphne knew her retreat might not matter to Adrian. Not at all. She had barely seen or heard him at home. It looked like he was sending her a message about choosing the darkness she told him to leave behind.
When she went to her sister Wilhelmina’s house, she actually was longing for chaos there. It was better than being exposed to her mother’s gloating at the Grisham townhouse.
“Daphne,” Wilhelmina gasped her sister’s name as she saw her distraught look. “C-come inside. Hector will be ecstatic to see you’re here.”
“Thank you,” Daphne said, trying to sound stronger than she felt.
“Stay here in the drawing room. I will handle everything,” her older sister said, giving her a cup of tea. “Gerard can fetch you whatever you need if you need anything from your house.”
Daphne could not help but chuckle at the way her sister made quick assumptions and didn’t mention Adrian’s name. She breathed in and out to calm herself and gave her sister a grateful smile.
“I knew you’d have time to listen to my stories, Aunt Daphne!” Hector cried, clapping his hands together.
“You’re getting bigger, Hector!” Daphne exclaimed, just as delighted despite everything. “Soon, you will be taller than me.”
“Oh. That’s true,” he said with a proud grin. “But not before you listen to more of my stories.”
“I will listen to your stories,” Daphne replied solemnly, placing her hand on her heart and closing her eyes. She loved her nephews and nieces.
“Today, I will read from Sir Woolsen Lends a Hand,” he said, nodding his head.
“He’s tired of The Charming Boy from Southampton, I believe,” Wilhelmina commented, with a knowing smirk.
“Oh, I remember when he used to watch the play like a little adult with the rest of the patrons.”
“Hector has always been mature for his age. I sometimes find him thumbing through copies of Master Shakespeare’s works in the library.
But I’ve also tried to give him some reading that better fits a child.
” She waved her hand at the copy of Sir Woolsen.
“He will only be my baby for a little while longer.”! ”
“Mama! How can you say that? I am perfectly capable of reading plays written by the Bard and discussing them with the rest of the ton.”
“That might be what your mother is afraid of,” Daphne said, giving him a little tap on the back for comfort.
Then, she shared a comforting wink with her sister. She saw Wilhelmina’s fears well.
She does not want her little boy to grow up before his time. She will protect him from anything, even the rigors of overstimulating himself and interacting with members of the ton.
Hector proved to be a good companion, but Daphne already knew that before settling into a new routine at her sister’s townhouse.
On some days, she read to him before bed, occasionally freeing her sister and Gerard from the duty.
Sometimes, Hector read to her. To fill the days with activities other than reading, they walked in the gardens and explored.
“My favorite flowers are always the ones that bloom in the middle of the garden,” he declared, as he let his fingers trail the soft petals.
“Why is that?”
“I am not certain. They like to hide, it seems. I also am curious why other boys don’t like to admit they like flowers, too. I do play with balls and chase after animals.”
“Oh, I know about the animals, my boy,” Daphne said with a chuckle.
The days seemed easier with the boy’s diversion and her sister’s discreet conversation.
Nobody mentioned the Duke, but it was clear what had happened.
It pained her to know that her family expected this outcome from the beginning.
Some hours, she almost forgot about Adrian’s painful rejection.
However, at the end of the day, when Hector got tired and the tea grew cold, she would remember why she was there in the first place.
One week later, Adrian’s fabricated peace was shattered. For some reason, the week felt longer than it really was. It seemed he had spent years in his remaining gambling halls.
It felt that way when Daphne was not there. He spent most of his meager free time watching the clock.
Then, Kettering came and everything imploded. Kettering had always been reliable, but the man who came to see him that night looked haggard, with dark circles around his eyes.
“Your Grace,” Kettering declared, giving him a small bow. The butler had ushered him straight to the library, where an unshaven and exhausted Adrian sat, with his legs on his desk.
The Duke knew what Kettering was seeing and smelling: exhausted and smelling of brandy. He didn’t even bother to bathe for a couple of days, letting the smoke and alcohol marinate his skin.
“Kettering,” he drawled as he straightened himself.
His man dropped a newsletter on his desk. Before he picked it up, Adrian could already see what was written on it.
The Earl of Briarwood Dead, Burned Alive.
The morbid news woke the Duke up completely. He grasped the newspaper and read the column quickly. Apparently, Briarwood had been found burned in a new establishment near the river.
“A new gaming hell?” Adrian wondered aloud. It looked like he was not the only one trying to keep a tight hold on London’s gambling underworld.
“His men are now free of his control. They were very willing to talk about what happened. They told our men everything. Apparently, the Earl was trying to frame you.”
“Frame me for what?”
“Arson,” Kettering replied simply.
The Duke narrowed his eyes at his right-hand man. Kettering was too serious today and speaking plainly, too, like any Londoner. Things were serious.
“Arson? So, he burned his gaming hell, hoping I’d be blamed for it but in the chaos, he managed to trap himself?” Even as Adrian puzzled through what must have been Briarwood’s plan, he was incredibly shocked at the sheer stupidity of the pompous man.
“Yes, Your Grace. That’s what happened.”
“Well, I am surprised that he didn’t have someone else set the fire for him,” Adrian muttered. “He sent one of his men to burn the Obsidian Card.”
“I am going to hazard a guess, Your Grace. You didn’t perish in the Obsidian Card.
That meant his attempt to take your life was unsuccessful.
This time around, while trying to frame you, he meant to minimize the risks and ensure a victory.
He probably thought that it was better to do things himself. ”
“Still ridiculous,” Adrian said, feeling rage rising in his chest once more.
While he didn’t like Briarwood, he didn’t like the way their fight ended. He wanted to be able to confront the dastardly villain face to face, and preferably slam his fist against the Earl’s jaw.
“It was hubris. The fool played with fire and burned himself. He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“Hubris and a taste for revenge,” Kettering said.
Adrian heard the emphasis on the last word. Was his solicitor trying to tell him something? Mm. He squinted at the other man.
“Your Grace, they wanted to frame you and attach the reputation of ‘criminal Duke’ to your person. You would have been shunned by polite society.”
“Justice has been served. It is unfortunate that it must be done this way, but I suppose I cannot argue with the facts,” Adrian said wearily.
There was little satisfaction to be found in this outcome, if indeed it could be considered a true victory.
“Let us focus on what we can do. Contact his heir. Pursue the purchase of his gaming hells, whatever remains standing.”
Kettering, usually quick to respond, remained still. He stood there, unflinching. His eyes stayed serious as he looked at his Duke. At that moment, it was as if he had become someone different—someone Adrian wasn't sure he liked.
“Your Grace,” the man said quietly, devoid of any of the hardness and efficiency he expected from him.
His manager’s voice was too soft, something they both could not afford to be.
“Briarwood is dead,” he continued. “At the moment, the physical threat is gone. Perhaps it is time for you to forget about gaming hells and think about the Duchess. Live as a man and a husband, not a shadow. You’ve lived far too long in the darkness, and you deserve so much more. You deserve better.”
Adrian’s eyes bulged. He felt the last of his control snap.
Oftentimes, Kettering spoke of his own love affair with his wife.
He was obedient and constantly eager to return home to his hearth so he could kiss his dearest one good night.
Only on rare occasions did Kettering overstep his bounds and try to dictate anything to the Duke.
He felt exposed by his employee’s quiet accusation, and even though he felt the nudge of truth, he could not bear it.
“You forget yourself, Kettering,” he hissed, feeling the pressure on his temples.
He stood to his full height, meaning to intimidate the shorter man.
But Kettering did not flinch. “You have forgotten yourself, Your Grace,” he said firmly.
More often than not, Kettering provided the levity he needed in the kind of world they navigated, but not tonight.
No, the man was not here for that at all.
“Do not tell me what to do,” Adrian growled, “Briarwood’s death opens the trade for us. We can have more business. Control more gaming hells in London—perhaps the majority, if not all.”
Kettering gave him a respectful bow, full of deference. However, he didn’t seem willing to back down.
“Your Grace, I’ve served you for too long, and you know my undying loyalty.
I am not merely working for you for the money.
Yes, the wife is overjoyed at my income, sir, but I also care about you and your welfare.
I’ve seen the darkness consume you as of late.
It consumed Briarwood and many men before the two of you.
Perhaps the Earl’s failed attempt to frame you is a warning that you must heed. Think of the Duchess; she needs you.”
“Do you see her anywhere near me, Kettering?” Adrian snarled, feeling the bitterness like bile in his throat.
With trembling fingers, he pointed at the door.
“You are dismissed. I don’t want to see you in any of the gaming hells tonight, Kettering.
Don’t make me use force to remove you from the premises. Go!”
The manager left without any more attempts to argue. Adrian found himself alone, the shadows of his library fleeting over him. Briarwood died, yet even this brought him no relief.
No sense of triumph.
He was left alone, reflecting on the loss of his reason for separating from Daphne, yet still feeling isolated. Despite everything, her absence lingered. His wife was intelligent; he knew he couldn't simply bring her back into his life for his own comfort.
He would need to make amends, but Adrian was lost. Since the death of his mother and sister, he had only known revenge and deceit.
How can I change? How can I be what Daphne needs?