Chapter 11 #2
The tall grass from the meadow parted as they proceeded, their boots trampling the previously untouched greenery, leaving a path in their wake.
“And what if you and Rowan continue your charade, at least for the time being?”
Tobias could not truly be asking her to linger longer, to remain at the mercy of Rowan and their never-ending arrangement.
“What of my future? Do I not deserve to find love, happiness, and contentment for myself?” She didn’t wait for his response.
“There is nothing for me if I remain under Rowan’s control.
And what of his future and the dukedom? He needs an heir, and I am not the woman to give him one. ”
“Rowan isn’t concerned with his happiness or the next in line to take over the dukedom,” Tobias challenged.
“He should be very concerned about his future and that of the dukedom, instead, he continues as it has been with little regard for his duty as a duke.”
“I think you judge him too harshly, Your Grace.”
“Stop, Tobias.” Her steely tone sparked a morsel of remorse even before the words had left her mouth. “He demanded I pay the penance for a sin that wasn’t mine to bear—nor was it his.”
Tobias stiffened as his knuckles turned white where he held his stallion’s reins. “May I speak frankly, Marce?”
Every instinct shouted at her to say no, to regain her saddle and ride as fast and hard as she could back to Hadlow, to deny any future outings with Tobias. He knew her secrets and about her family, but he was also privy to Rowan’s musings.
She’d often wondered what drove the duke’s continued need for retribution, but did she dare gain the information from Tobias? In a way, she was once again using him, and that knotted her stomach.
Helpless to turn away from anything he knew, Marce said, “Certainly.”
“Do you know where Rowan’s anger comes from?” Tobias spoke low and calm. “Have you considered why he sought to punish you?”
“I don’t have to consider it at all, he told me that first night. I will never forget it.”
“He told you?”
“Yes, my mother accepted money, gifts, and Julian Delconti’s love,” she sighed. “With his father gone, Rowan could only hope to regain the monetary value of what the dukedom lost.”
“Rowan isn’t concerned with money, Marce, you know that as well as I.”
“But it is what he said, the reason he demands not only my attendance here but monthly payments toward the debt I owe him.”
“You aren’t a fool, Your Grace.”
“I must be—”
“How do you think Rowan learned of his father’s infidelity?” he prodded.
“I’ve never thought on the matter. I assume he learned of it when he found the deed to Craven House.
” Marce fell silent, remembering the night Rowan had shown up at her home.
She hadn’t expected him—though she’d known someone would come.
The duke had passed away not a fortnight prior.
She’d heard of it on the scandal sheets so common about London, but Marce—and her siblings—hadn’t seen Julian Delconti since shortly after their mother’s death.
Sasha had been Julian’s lover, nothing more.
He’d owed them nothing after the affair ended…
except for the deed to Craven House, which never arrived.
She hadn’t thought more on the matter at the time, her lack of experience and her youth telling her that Julian would follow through on the promise he made.
“Perhaps his solicitor spoke of the duke’s involvement with my mother. ”
“If only it were that innocent.” Tobias’s bitter laugh held an animosity Marce was unfamiliar with, as if the way in which Rowan had learned of his father’s infidelity had also wounded the earl. “It was a dark time for Rowan…and he had no one there but me.”
“What do you mean?” Marce kept her stare trained on the path before them as they slowly walked through the meadow.
She hadn’t known in her youth that Julian had a family.
She’d discovered that only after her mother’s death.
“Rowan was grown, a gentleman with the arrogance of a man raised to be a duke when he came to see me at Craven House that night.”
Tobias bent to pick up a flower—a yellow blossom—and held it out to her, a sad, listless smile tugging at his lips.
“While that was the first time you and Rowan met, it was not the first time he saw you. Though it was the first time he confronted anyone from your family, he’d been aware of your existence for many years. ”
For many years?
That couldn’t be. For if it were true, that meant Rowan had bided his time—planned his vengeance, and waited until his father passed to seek it.
Besides, the money she owed for the note on Craven House was promised to the dukedom, not Rowan.
She was not indebted to Rowan. The sins of her mother—and his father—were not theirs to bear.
“How long?” she asked, terrified of the answer and what it would mean.
“About fourteen years ago…”
“Rowan would’ve been but a boy of fifteen summers,” Marce breathed.
And she only fourteen. That was about the time she and her siblings had met Julian Delconti.
Their mother had hidden much from them after they were cast out of their home upon Marce’s father’s death.
Sasha had protected her children from the deplorable depths she’d been forced to lower herself to in order to support her family, demanding her children remain above stairs after their evening meals and locked safely in their private chambers.
“That was about the time my mother introduced us to Julian. She was in love. I think he was, too. We hadn’t any notion that he had another family.
Garrett and I, as well as the others, were merely children. ”
Marce’s mind spun with the new knowledge, thinking back to that time…a happier time for her entire family, though she now knew it was a period of heartache for Rowan.
Her family had finally found a security that hadn’t been afforded them in years, while Rowan was having his stripped away.
Something pricked at her. Fourteen years ago had been when Leona fell gravely ill and nearly died giving birth to stillborn twins…girls. Had Rowan spoken of Julian’s affair and caused the duchess such grief? He’d always told her Leona knew nothing of his father’s weakness.
“We’ve been friends for many years, and you’ve never spoken of this.” Marce wondered if the information would have changed anything. Would she have thought so unkindly of him all these years had she known Rowan’s childhood was as wretched as hers?
“It was not my place, I’m sorry to say.”
Tobias halted, lifting his hand high to shield his eyes from the sun, directly overhead now, as a rider approached from the opposite side of the meadow. She’d been so deep in her own musings that she hadn’t heard the man approach.
“Are you expecting a visitor at Cresthaven Park, my lord?” The rider flew across the meadow with such urgency that Marce wondered if something could be amiss at Hadlow. “I do not think the duke is expecting anyone.”
Besides Marce, Rowan, and Tobias, Hadlow Estate didn’t get visitors—and truly, Rowan could not be considered a guest in his own home.
“It is Rowan,” Tobias exclaimed as the rider drew to a halt before them. “What in the bloody hell…”
“Your Grace,” Marce greeted, taking a step away from Tobias, though she hadn’t been standing inappropriately close before.
It had been the nature of their discussion that was intimate.
The thought fled immediately as Rowan dismounted, his expression dark and his mouth set in a grim scowl. “Is the duchess unwell?”
Rowan stared directly at Tobias, leaving her question unanswered.
The duke now wore trousers free of soil stains and a freshly pressed linen shirt, his riding coat unbuttoned to reveal his expertly tied cravat. Despite the clean attire, Rowan couldn’t hide the frantic darting of his gaze, or the worry lines etched around his eyes and mouth.
“Rowan.” She dropped her horse’s reins and stepped toward him, an edge of steel in her tone. “Is something amiss at Hadlow? Is Leona well?”
She glanced at Tobias as he looked Rowan up and down before shrugging and glancing away. It was as if a conversation had taken place, and things discovered, without a word being spoken between the men.
“I thought I would join the pair of you for your ride,” Rowan mused, turning back toward her. “Though I now see my error.”
“What error?” Rowan was acting strangely, even for him.
“It appears I have interrupted a private moment.” Rowan made to turn back to his horse, but Marce quickly placed her hand on his arm to halt him. “My apologies. I should return to Hadlow.”
“No, Your Grace,” Marce attempted to distract the duke from the scene he’d stumbled upon.
The last thing she desired was Rowan questioning her or Tobias about what they’d been speaking about.
Tobias had spoken of Rowan’s private musings—and it was as if Marce had in some way betrayed the duke.
“We were just about to ride back to the estate. Please, join us.”
“Yes, Ro, we were merely walking to give the horses a chance to cool down.” Tobias avoided her and Rowan as he remounted his horse. “But I do believe they are well-rested and prepared for a good run back.”
Rowan offered his assistance, lifting Marce to her side-saddle before gaining his own horse. The trio turned toward Hadlow, and the horses fell into line, side by side. Marce kicked her horse into a canter before Rowan said anything further.
There was certainly something not quite right with the duke. He’d never joined her on an outing while at Hadlow before. They rarely dined together. But now, two days in a row, he’d gone out of his way to be in her presence. Did he suspect she was readying to run?
The wind tugged at her hair as she rode toward the manor, leaving Rowan and Tobias in her wake.
She knew time was running out to speak with Rowan and tell him of her plans, but now Marce sensed there was more she needed to hear from Tobias first. And she needs must beg him to keep her secret, at least for a while longer until she could ponder everything she learned and figure out how—or if—it affected her decision.
No, Marce could not allow the knowledge of Rowan’s painful childhood to affect her plans, nor could she risk delaying their conversation much longer. However, Tobias had given her much to ponder—and many new questions that needed answers.