Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
ROWEN
“De-vil!” The Duke collapsed back onto his pillows, his eyes watery and red.
“Father—” Rowen leapt to his father’s side.
“Devil!” Crooked fingers clawed at Rowen’s shirt. The Duke’s body shook. “You…you…”
Rowen prised his father’s hands from him. “Easy, sir!”
“Shall I call for the doctor?” asked Cassandra.
“Ring for Morgan.”
A man darted into the room, crashing into Cassandra. Francis. “What are you doing here?” Scowling, he pushed her out of his way. “Dear God, what are you doing to him?”
“Dev-il…Devil…” The old Duke’s voice rumbled as his other hand grabbed onto Rowen’s.
Francis rushed to the bed. “Father!”
“He’s having a fit.”
“Send for the doctor at once!” Francis shouted.
Morgan appeared in the doorway, and Cassandra went to him. “His Grace is awake and much disturbed.”
“The doctor left a powder. I shall prepare it immediately.”
“Do it, man!” Rowen held down his father’s chest.
Morgan went to the sideboard and prepared the medicine.
“He’s angry with you,” said Francis. “What have you done? You are to blame for this! It was the shock of your impudence,” he sneered. “Look at her. Have you been having yourself a time of it in here?”
Rowen grimaced. “Get out!”
Morgan brought the elixir to the Duke, and he and Rowen fed it to the old man, who drank against his will.
“What is that? Are you poisoning him?” shouted Francis.
“It’s a powder to calm him, you idiot.”
His Grace’s body eased, and he finally stilled. Morgan brought the coverlet over his father, smoothing back the old man’s unruly hair.
Francis pointed at Cassandra. “What is she still doing here?”
“She is His Grace’s fiancée.” Rowen wiped his hands on a towel. “With her uncles’ blessing, she is here to tend to him.”
“Is that what we’re calling it? Send the piece away. Mother will be here in the morning, and she will make everything right again. She always does.”
“Not this time. He no longer wants her here.”
“Bollocks.”
Rowen threw the towel on the floor and charged at the boy.
“Why do you think he wants to marry?” He gestured at Cassandra.
“Aside from wanting an innocent girl in his bed, he wants another son. A true, legitimate son. He was so looking forward to surprising your mother tomorrow with this wonderful surprise. A birthday gift to himself, if you will.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why do you think he tosses you money and promises? Out of fondness? Sentiment? He has none. They are only crumbs to keep you hungry and obedient. You and your mother have no place in his life any longer.”
“His Grace would never do that to my mother. And not to me. He loves me. I am his son.”
“You are his bastard!”
“Blood is blood, Rowen.”
“And law is law. How little you know the man. Earlier today, he informed me of his plan to begin a new life with Lady Cassandra as his wife.” The words sickened him, but he bore on. “It’s all agreed upon, the papers signed by her uncles and His Grace.”
Francis snorted, his weight shifting. “It cannot be. He would have told me. He confides in me. No, this is simply another game. He wants to scare Mother, that’s all. Threaten her. But he would never go through with it. You think my mother doesn’t know about his dalliances?”
“Of course she knows. But this is different.”
Francis raised his chin. “He told me that he arranged for you to marry your cousin.”
Rowen only stared at him coldly.
“Ah…” Francis smiled. His pitch had struck its target. “Father shared much with me while you were away.”
Rage fomented in Rowen’s belly like whiskey on fire. “Don’t you see, Francis?”
The young man stepped back and stumbled at Rowen’s sudden chilling tone. “See what?”
“His Grace thought of everything. What a glorious spectacle a double Oakley wedding shall be. Then His Grace and his new Duchess shall live here in matrimonial bliss, as shall I and my wife. And there will be no place for you and your mother at Tidesfar or our house in town any longer. A fine plan indeed for the House of Oakley. A renaissance, if you will.”
“He promised me Redthorne.”
“Redthorne is only his to give if he marries the girl, for that estate belongs to Lady Cassandra’s family. After her parents’ death, her mother’s brothers have been living there with her. Once Father marries her, and only then, will Redthorne be his to give.”
“He will give it to me. He promised.”
“A very fine crumb indeed to keep you on his side when he rids himself of your mother. Of course, when he marries and cuts off your mamma, he will not allow you to have anything to do with her thereafter.”
Francis’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “If my father recovers.”
Rowen let out a scoffing laugh. “I can assure you, with such a delectable bride awaiting him, he most certainly shall recover.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “And yet, he offered her to me.”
“A petty amusement to vex her uncles. They offended His Grace. You know how vile his temper can be, don’t you?”
Over the years, Francis, too, had been abused mercilessly by the Duke. Rowen had witnessed it himself on more than one occasion and with some satisfaction.
Rowen railed on. “He did so enjoy your eagerness and his guests’ delirium at the prospect of such an indulgence. But His Grace wouldn’t have allowed your prick inside her, thus depriving himself of the glory of hammering through his young bride’s maidenhood on their wedding night.”
Francis’ shoulders straightened. “Yet you defied him and stopped our entertainment. Why?”
“I know my father’s brutal tempers well, and I considered the innocent girl’s welfare, as well as her honour. She will be my stepmother after all.”
A smirk twitched at Francis’ mouth. “I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you?
Tupping your stepmother in Father’s bed?
” He glanced at Cassandra and turned back to Rowen.
“Damme….I know who she is…she’s the girl you were riding in the woods when I came upon you.
You’ve already had her.” His eyes widened.
“Which is why you jumped to her defence at the party, so you wouldn’t be found out.
You robbed Father of his virgin bride. And you robbed me, too. ”
Rowen said nothing.
Francis sniffed in a breath as if a heady scent was in the air, a new scent, and he savoured it.
“In the event His Grace is unable, I should marry her. If Redthorne is her family house, and it’s been promised to me, it makes perfect sense.
I would fill that house with my spawn right under your bloody upturned nose.
That would be sweet indeed.” His lips tipped up into a grin.
“Ah, brother, every time I pound her cunny, I’ll be sure to think of you. ”
Rowen’s arm flew, his fist jamming into Francis’s face. A crack exploded in the room, and the boy grunted, blood shooting from his mouth as he crumpled to the floor.
“She’s not nothing to you, is she?” Francis spit out as he gripped the edge of the door and staggered to his feet. “And Father knows it!”
Rowen lunged for him again, and they crashed into the hallway, fists and shoulders colliding under the watchful gaze of Oakley ancestors whose portraits hung on the wall. Francis sprang on top of him, hands locking around Rowen’s throat.
Rowen clawed at his wrists, gasping, twisting. His knee drove up into Francis’s middle. Francis wheezed and loosened his grip long enough for Rowen to surge to his feet.
Francis came at him again, and they reeled sideways together. He shoved Rowen to the edge of the staircase.
Cassandra ran. Her hands seized Rowen’s coat, and she wrenched him back. They crashed to the floor together, the force of their fall sending Francis reeling backward. He staggered. His foot slid. His body jerked, and the stairway was suddenly behind him.
For an instant, the world stood still. Francis’s eyes widened, his hands reaching out but grasping only air.
He tumbled backwards down the grand staircase, his body banging on the steps, thudding against the banister, thudding against the wall in an unwieldy tangle.
Limbs flailing until he stopped, and was but a crumpled heap at the foot of the stairs.
“No!” The bastard’s last word hung in the air.
Last and final. Forevermore.