Chapter Fourteen
D eclan didn’t have much time. After his disastrous brawl in Hyde Park, he had to face the political consequences. No one in Parliament wanted a member of the Whigs making public displays of any kind, and they were understandably horrified by his actions.
He spent the rest of the evening and the next day soothing feathers and debating ways to make life better for the whole country. It was exhausting, but necessary. And if he’d thought he would get a moment’s reprieve once he returned home, he soon discovered his error. He was met there by his solicitor, who had a ridiculously long list of legal matters to address regarding the ducal estates. And again he found himself reassuring the man that he wasn’t impetuous or brash, despite the fact that he had recently been seen decking his cousin in Hyde Park.
The Byrning legacy was not taking over his personality. Everyone could remain calm. That was what he kept saying while privately he prayed it was true.
Damn it, he needed a wife. Someone who could help him calm his political allies, reassure his solicitor that he hadn’t lost his mind, and generally share the burden of all his tasks. A foreign woman—be she Chinese, French, or from the moon—could not move through his world with ease. Not without extensive training, and maybe even not then.
It was a simple practicality: he needed help. And it was traditional: he was of an age to marry. It was the reality of life as a duke.
Meanwhile, the clock in his library ticked along like a reminder of the world rushing ahead whether he was prepared for it or not. He finished up as quickly as possible with his solicitor, cognizant that he still had a pile of urgent correspondence on his desk.
The man had just left when Declan was interrupted again.
‘Just like your father!’ a voice exclaimed as the door to his library burst open.
Declan tensed, but he didn’t look up from the letter from his steward. He had yet to find a way to manage his mother’s tendency to burst in on him whenever she felt the urge. To date, his best strategy had been to ignore her until she paid some homage to the niceties of his title.
‘And now you’re drinking just like him, too!’ she exclaimed as she pointed to the glass of brandy on his desk.
Behind her, his butler came rushing in, face red with apology. ‘Your Grace, I stepped away for a moment. She has a key, and I was not—’
Declan held up his hand. ‘Mother,’ he drawled, ‘you do not live here. Please surrender the key.’
‘Oh, good God, you’re being ridiculous. I am a duchess and you are my son. I will not—’
‘Mother, you will surrender the key or I will ban you from my presence.’
‘Now you’re being dramatic,’ she huffed.
At that, he turned to face his mother directly and slowly pushed to his feet to face her. ‘Mother, I recently beat Cedric bloody in Hyde Park. This is not the time to test me.’
‘Don’t I know it!’ she cried. ‘Everyone is agog—’
‘Key! Now!’
The two words exploded out of him, bellowed and cold. He saw his mother shrink back, her eyes widening with fear, and he cursed himself for being a damned beast. Her gaze dropped to his glass of brandy. He hadn’t taken a single sip, but she stared at it as if it were the devil’s own piss.
‘Do not become him,’ she whispered.
‘I’m not.’
‘The cuts on your knuckles say different. Not to mention every Christmas when you were young and beat up poor Cedric. I thought you had gained some measure of control, but now I see—’
With a grunt of disgust, he grabbed the brandy and threw it into the fire. The glass and the alcohol exploded with a satisfying cacophony, but it did nothing to ease the turmoil inside him. His mother was right. How many times had she told him that his temper would destroy him? How many times had she punished him for the least outburst?
Countless. And all of it for naught because he was thirty-one years old and still beating up his young cousin. What the hell was wrong with him? Was he doomed to be controlled by a legacy he couldn’t escape? The agony of that thought nearly broke him.
Meanwhile, his mother would not relent, though she took a different tack.
‘Declan, my dear, I am concerned about you,’ she said, her voice taking on a soothing quality that he couldn’t help but warm to. There had been times in his childhood when she had been a doting parent. He had learned in adulthood that it was simply a character she adopted when she needed it. His mother did not have it in her to be truly motherly.
‘Do not say another word until you set the key on my desk.’
‘But—’
‘I will not tell you again.’
He waited in indifference for her response. She would either comply or not. If she complied, he would win. If she did not, he would throw her out and be done with her for this minute. Either way, it was a welcome distraction from the shame of his actions in Hyde Park.
He heard the key drop onto his desk.
‘There,’ she said haughtily.
He straightened and turned back to face her.
But before he could speak, she waved vaguely at the ornate key. ‘I have several more, you know. This is a game your father and I played ad nauseum.’ She donned the exact arrogant expression she’d worn for her portrait. ‘I am the Duchess of Byrning, and I have a right to be here as much as I choose to be.’
‘You are the Dowager Duchess—’
‘Until such time as you marry I have a right to be here.’ She waved her finger at him. ‘Everyone expects it. You might as well get used to it. Even the servants cannot stop me.’
That was the best reason to marry that he had ever heard. But in the meantime he would have all the locks changed.
‘Mother, you must learn the limits of your influence. Barging in on me at your whim shrinks my respect for your intelligence.’
‘Well!’ she said as she sat down. ‘I believe the one who’s intelligence is lacking is you. How could you hit your cousin in front of everybody? It boggles the mind.’
‘He was hurting her.’
‘Who? That Chinese girl? Well, that’s between them, isn’t it? If they’re engaged and all that.’
‘They’re not engaged!’
‘Thank heaven for that. Was this afternoon’s display your attempt to dissuade him? Was that what you were doing? If so, then I applaud your reason, but I don’t think it was effective. According to his mother, Cedric is as determined as ever to marry the chit.’
‘He doesn’t want to marry her. He wants her dowry.’
She snorted. ‘Obviously! How does brawling in Hyde Park change anything?’
It didn’t.
‘I’m going to court her.’
‘Who?’
Declan ground his teeth together but managed to answer civilly enough. ‘Miss Richards.’
‘How will that help anything?’
‘For one, it will save her reputation. She was shocked by my temper—’
‘As is everyone, though I suppose few are surprised.’
‘She refused my offer of marriage.’
No fool, his mother stared at him long and hard. Then she shook her head slowly. ‘You did not offer for her.’
It was a statement, not a question. And he was unable to lie directly to his mother’s face.
‘I... I did not. But that doesn’t matter. This saves her reputation.’
‘And makes her quite popular, I assume?’
‘Yes.’
‘Giving her someone else to fall in love with besides Cedric.’
He looked down into the fire, wishing now for the brandy that had just exploded. ‘She does not seem especially enamoured of him. Or me.’
‘That is her mistake and our good fortune. I assume you are to dance with her tonight?’
Of course his mother knew about her come-out ball.
‘Yes,’ he answered.
‘Very well. Do the bare minimum and then send every possible gentleman over to her. Someone will turn her head quickly enough.’
Declan grimaced. ‘I doubt she can be easily swayed. She seems...’ Capable, intelligent, remarkably composed... ‘A discerning sort of woman.’
His mother looked to him and shook her head. ‘All young girls can be swayed. It merely takes the right application of pressure. Never mind,’ she said as she pushed to her feet. ‘I’ll take care of it. Just play your part and no more.’
Part of him wanted to let his mother leave. Why poke the bear when she was already on her way out? But he knew from experience that he had to set down rules clearly or she would trample them.
‘Mother,’ he said coolly.
She stopped with one foot out the door. ‘What is it now?’
‘You are to do nothing to discredit Miss Richards or her family. Consider the lady untouchable.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. She’s the epitome of touchable. Her father’s barely in society and she’s a by-blow of mixed race. No one wants her here, and no one respectable will marry her. The sooner she gets that message, the better for everyone.’
Declan folded his arms. It kept him from choking her.
‘She has done nothing wrong. You will not smear her.’
His mother threw up her hands in disgust. ‘I begin to regret bringing you in on this business. She is inappropriate .’ Her words were stated with diction as hard as glass.
‘I am making her appropriate.’
‘Not unless you marry her.’
He arched his brows. ‘Do you doubt me?’
‘Never,’ his mother said. ‘You’ve always been a man of your word. Unless you get angry or start drinking, that is.’
And there it was, the reason he let her run roughshod over him and the truth of why he never put her in her place or truly banished her for her tart tongue.
She was right.
Until he got his temper under control he was a lying fool, swearing to something one moment, then breaking his word the next time something upset him. That was how his father had been until his death. And that was how Declan had been in his teens and early twenties. It wasn’t until after his Grand Tour that he had reconsidered his life.
And now that he’d pummelled his cousin, in full view of the ton , she had reason to doubt him again. If he tossed her aside now, when she was speaking the truth, then he would be no better than his father who’d been destroyed by the Byrning legacy. He needed to keep his mother’s sharp tongue nearby, but he also needed her to be clear about the boundaries.
God, he needed a wife soon. One who knew how to manage his mother while keeping Declan calm. Naturally Miss Richards floated through his mind, but she was neither appropriate nor soothing. Indeed, when in her presence he felt hot and alive in all the best ways. But that made his temper short, and that led to...
Beating up Cedric in Hyde Park.
No, as much as he might wish it, Miss Richards would not make him an appropriate wife. God, how that thought hurt. But at least he could help her in other ways. He would make her acceptable and maybe she would find a man far removed from Cedric’s greed or Declan’s rage.
‘You will leave Miss Richards alone,’ he said flatly.
‘Or what?’ His mother threw up her hands in disgust. ‘Honestly, it’s almost endearing how you keep laying down the rules. Leave the key. Don’t bother the girl. I am the Duchess of Byrning. I shall do exactly as I wish. And you will have to accept it because that is what a son does for his mother.’
He folded his arms. ‘I do control your purse, Mother.’
Her expression darkened into her cold face, the one that had terrified him as a child. ‘And you swore to me that as long as I kept my expenses reasonable you would never restrict my purse. Are my expenses over limit?’
‘No.’
‘Indeed, I think I’m well below my allotment this season.’
She was probably right. She kept better track of her finances than he did.
‘Do you intend to go back on your word?’
‘No,’ he said again.
He couldn’t in good conscience take her money away. It had been a stupid move to try to threaten her purse. But failing that he had no way to control her.
‘Then I believe the matter is settled.’
‘No, Mother, it is not. You will push and push until I must do something drastic that neither of us want.’
She waved a negligent hand at him, supremely confident in her ability to manipulate others to her will. ‘Just do as you have promised. Pretend to court the girl while I throw handsome young men in her direction. Between the two of us she will be happily married to some nobody within a few weeks. Then she can retire to the country and have all the mixed-race brats she wants.’
She smiled at him.
‘See? I can compromise. I shall do nothing to harm her.’ She abruptly frowned as the grandfather clock in the hall clanged the time. ‘Goodness, now we’re both going to be late. I’ll see myself out. And you must go and get dressed. Something restrained, to reassure everyone that you’ve not gone mad.’
She shook her head, speaking to herself as she pulled on her gloves.
‘Why ever did I marry a Byrning? Violent beasts, every one of them. And they never change.’
Declan felt his throat close at her words. It was all he could do to remain upright and placid as she spun on her heel and left. But the moment the front door closed behind her, he collapsed into his chair.
Was it true? He looked at the space on the wall that had once held a portrait of his father. He’d ordered it removed the minute he’d ascended the ducal throne. But that didn’t free him of the image of his father, of his grandfather, of all the Byrnings before him, who had been driven by their own vicious tempers.
Was he fated to be just like them, no matter what he told himself? If he married the wrong woman would he accidentally kill his own child in a temper? No, no, no! He didn’t believe he was capable of that. But the scrapes on his knuckles said he was doomed.
Damn it, why did he have to have strong feelings for Miss Grace Richards? She interested him as none other, but obviously that made the rage burn hotter. She did not quiet him. She challenged him, aroused him, and made everything feel more alive.
He couldn’t marry her. He shouldn’t even be near her. But circumstances had forced his hand. And now he had to bathe before doing the pretty with her.
Odd how that thought brought a smile to his face. Looking at him now, no one would ever imagine the horror that lay just beneath his skin.
Well, no one but Cedric and his mother. Not to mention Miss Richards and her father. Plus anyone else who had seen him in Hyde Park.