Chapter 4
“Your Grace, thank you so much for coming to see me. And on such short notice.” Mr. Allen reached across the table to shake hands.
Lord Gabriel St. Clair, the Duke of Rothbury, didn’t bother accepting the handshake. It wasn’t done out of a desire to be rude, but rather frustration brought about by having been called in this morning when he was certain that a letter might have done the trick.
“Let us get this over with,” Gabriel sighed as he fell into the seat across from his solicitor. “The implication was that this meeting could not wait, so let us prove the point, shall we.”
Mr. Allen was not only Gabriel’s personal solicitor, but he had also been his father’s.
It was him who had been entrusted with Gabriel’s father’s last will and testament, as well as him who kept an eye on Gabriel’s leases and tenant agreements and most of his business dealings.
He was a vital cog in the machine that was Gabriel’s fortune and inheritance, and that was the only reason that Gabriel had come to see him at such short notice.
What Gabriel would have rather be doing was… anything other than this. I have that garden party to attend later, and while I doubt it will yield any excitement, it cannot possibly be worse than this travesty.
“As you say…” Mr. Allen straightened and cleared his throat. “Before we begin, I would like it noted that I have across the last six months written to you on multiple occasions, all with the express request that you come and see me.”
“And every single time, I responded that I would when I had the chance,” Gabriel sighed. “It wasn’t until you made the matter seem life and death that I finally figured ignoring you wasn’t going to work.”
Mr. Allen laughed awkwardly. “Perhaps not life and death, Your Grace, but still a matter of utmost importance.”
“Is this not why I pay you as I do…” Gabriel rubbed his eyes as if fighting back a headache. “So that you can take care of these matters without having to refer to my council?”
“That is true, Your Grace, however –”
“It’s money, isn’t it,” Gabriel said flatly. As he did, he looked around the decadent office of his lawyer, noting the polished marble floor, the expensive paintings, the silk cushions that sat on every surface. “It looks to my eyes that you are doing quite well as is.”
“This has nothing to do with money.”
“Doubtful,” Gabriel scoffed. “I know your type. It is always to do with money. So, come on, how much? Let us not waste time. Give me a number.”
Gabriel did not mean to be so rude to Mr. Allen. Truly, he wasn’t ordinarily like this. The way Gabriel acted, as ungracious as it was, had everything to do with the mood that always came when speaking about his ‘duties.’
Gabriel was the Duke of Rothbury, a title he inherited when his father passed away three years earlier.
It was a title that as a child, Gabriel had coveted and looked forward to inheriting, because he had believed at the time that such things were not only his right, but deserved by him.
He equated being a duke with the highest of honors that required the highest levels of respect.
His father had trained that out of him.
Not on purpose. His father didn’t bring shame to his title or anything like that.
It was more to do with Gabriel’s opinion of his father, the way he was raised, and the very real fact that he now associated being a duke with his father and thus had little care for what many considered one of the most coveted positions in all the land.
Gabriel wanted nothing to do with it. He did not care about expectation. He did not waste time with propriety and decorum. He found it all false and perverse and was it not for comfort that came with being a duke, he doubted he would care one way or another about what happened to him and his title.
Hence Mr. Allen and his role. While Mr. Allen worked to keep his fortune bountiful and his businesses booming, Gabriel was able to live his life how he wished it. And what was even better than that, nobody alive could tell him what to do.
Even if they tried, I would not care. Such is the way I have chosen to live my life. Free of regrets and thus free of judgement. If only my father could see me now…
“As I said…” Mr. Allen cleared his throat; it was thick sounding, likely caused by Mr. Allen’s obsession with pipe smoking. “This has nothing to do with… I did not ask you to see me today because I wished for a pay raise.”
“How very good of you.”
“Do you remember what we spoke of when your father passed?” Mr. Allen pivoted. He was far older than Gabriel, at least sixty, with a bald head and a thick grey mustache that hung loosely down the sides of his mouth. “The conversation that we had…”
Gabriel frowned. “Three years, Mr. Allen, and you might have to remind me.”
“It concerned your inheritance…” He cleared his throat again. “And the precarious nature of your father’s last will and testament.”
That had Gabriel sitting up. “Yes… and if I recall correctly, you assured me that you would take care of it.”
“I promised that I would try,” Mr. Allen corrected. “Just as I made sure to point out that the chances of me being able to do anything was slim. Less than slim. I told you this, and you said –”
“I believe I said that you should do whatever it takes. No matter the cost.” Gabriel was no longer lounging back, speaking freely, and wondering secretly when this little meeting would be over.
He was sitting upright now, glaring in warning at Mr. Allen, while doing his best to ignore the pit that had suddenly opened in his stomach.
“It is not about cost. Money has nothing to do with –”
“I wasn’t speaking of money,” Gabriel snapped. “I was speaking of… anything at all! You’re the damn lawyer! This is supposed to be what you do. What I pay you for. And I was assured that as my lawyer, you would find a way to nullify this little issue as only you could do.”
Mr. Allen looked at him flatly, apparently not pleased with the accusations. “For three years I have worked tirelessly for you. For three years I have seen your wealth grow, your assets multiply, and your inheritance secured in ways that I should be lauded for.”
“Is that what you require? Praise?”
“What I require is some understanding,” Mr. Allen said. “I warned you, Your Grace. Three years ago, I warned you of what was likely going to happen. And for the past six months, when I realized that I could not stop it, I have written to you, sent for you, begged for you to –”
“Yes, yes,” Gabriel waved him down. “You have made your point.”
“There is nothing to be done.” Mr. Allen folded his hands on the table and looked pointedly at Gabriel. “Your father’s will and testament are ironclad and three years later, his final wish will either be fulfilled, or I am sorry to say…” Mr. Allen cleared his throat. “Or you will lose everything.”
“Everything?”
“Save your title, of course. That cannot be taken. But your wealth, your land, your home…” Mr. Allen’s features softened. “There is nothing more I can do, Your Grace. Sadly, your future now rests in your hands. Only you can save it from damnation.”
Gabriel winced at that final word… and he squirmed where he sat as he felt the pit in his stomach widen.
He had known this day was coming. For three years, he had been expecting it. Oh sure, he had made himself believe that Mr. Allen might somehow save him, that he would find a way out, or that maybe everyone would just somehow forget…
Laughable, I know. My father, ever the bastard, was sure to not just drive the knife in before he died, but to do so in a way that if I tried to remove it, I would bleed out all over the floor. Well done, old man, well done…
When Gabriel’s father died, Gabriel had inherited everything. He was the only living son, he had no immediate family, and as expected, his father’s will named him sole heir. All lands, deeds, titles, and inherited wealth went directly to Gabriel. No questions asked.
However, as Gabriel found out shortly after the funeral, there was a clause added to his father’s will at the last minute. A clause that had sat with Gabriel now for three years, and in that time, had become no less untenable.
The clause dictated that by Gabriel’s twenty-ninth birthday, three months from now, if he was not married, then everything his father had left him would transfer to a distant cousin. One whom Gabriel hardly knew. One who had no right to take what was his away from him.
It infuriated Gabriel when he found out. It incensed him! What was the point of being a duke if he could not marry who he wished when he wished it? What was the point of living if his life was not his to do with whatever he wanted?
“Even from the grave…” Gabriel chuckled bitterly. “My father still finds ways to ruin my life.”
“It does not have to be that way, Your Grace,” Mr. Allen said. “You speak as if this is a death sentence, when in many ways, it is as natural as breathing. As a duke, you are expected to –”
“I don’t give a shit what I am expected to do.”
“But your father did,” Mr. Allen continued. “And while I know you think he is doing this out of spite, I believe he has done it out of love.”
“Love?” Gabriel scoffed. “My father does not know the meaning of the word. He is as likely to have done this for love as a fish is to flop itself on land because it thinks it might grow legs and walk. No…” Gabriel squirmed where he sat, the walls of the office closing in.
“This isn’t about love, Mr. Allen. It’s about hurting me. ”
“I don’t think –”
“You knew my father,” he spoke over the solicitor.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me that you believe this has anything to do with my father’s desire to see me happy.
Look at me and tell me that my father wasn’t the most repugnant, repulsive man you ever met.
Do that, Mr. Allen, and I’ll marry today and give you half my fortune. ”
In response, Mr. Allen cleared his throat again and looked away.
“As I thought,” Gabriel sneered.
Gabriel was right to feel this way about his father, and as Mr. Allen had just demonstrated, anyone who knew the man would see such feelings as justified.
As a boy, Gabriel had grown up in a house of torment.
His father was a cold, dispassionate individual who treated his wife, Gabriel’s mother, as little more than a tool to be used when it suited him.
He had not loved her. He had not even liked her.
And for reasons that Gabriel had never been able to figure out, he had seemingly resented her very existence.
His father was cruel to his mother. He was mean.
He took what might have been a companionable marriage and ground it into the dirt so that when Gabriel was still just a boy, his mother had died.
But not from a sickness, or from a tragic accident.
She had died because, in Gabriel’s mind, she had seen not point in living.
Her life was literally sucked out of her, and all Gabriel had been able to do was stand by and watch.
To Gabriel, marriage was not something to be sought after or praised.
It was a trick, a trap, a fallacy that was presented as a necessary part of life, but from it came only pain and misery.
For this reason, he had shunned the very concept for as long as he could remember, adopting his current state of bachelorhood and rakishness, not because he enjoyed it, but because he wanted to prove to all he knew that he was better off alone.
And he was happy to do it… until now.
“I won’t do it,” Gabriel said. “I will not marry.”
“Then you will lose everything,” Mr. Allen said. “It is that simple.”
Gabriel shuddered and his insides twisted. “And who will I marry? Who could I possibly… how can I be expected to do such a thing? When my entire life I have aspired to do the opposite. Tell me that.”
“I cannot,” Mr. Allen said. “The simple fact is that you have a choice to make, Your Grace. Your bachelorhood or your wealth. Pick one or suffer the consequences. Sadly, this is on you and you alone.”
Gabriel left Mr. Allen’s office shortly after. He needed to walk, to think, to plan! To find a way out of this trap before he lost everything.
All the while, he knew… deep down in the pit of his soul… that specter that haunted him daily… there was no way out. Like it or not, he had to marry. Like it or not, he had to find himself a bride. And quickly.