Chapter Ten #3
“I’m well aware of that fact.” Just another of the duke’s shortcomings. The man was a miser and a bastard.
“You’ll not be able to sponge off her; she’ll have nothing for you.”
Caleb shrugged. “I need nothing from her except love, and in the event you wondered, she does love me. It’s life changing.
Perhaps you should have been kind to her, for then you might have experienced that.
” However, the duke didn’t know he’d not altered the will as instructed.
Yet he’d sent them to be filed while still in London, so the duchess would receive a lovely death settlement and inheritance, making certain she would be settled for the rest of her life.
“Love is… a fairy… story.” Gasps and sputtering followed. As did a barrage of coughing, while Caleb stood in the water, watching the struggle.
“No, love is reserved for those who deserve it. Your soul has always been black, just like your father before you. Perhaps it is poetic justice that it will all end here.” He steeled his soul against the disturbing sounds of the drowning man, and he quelled the urge to try and save him.
The man was horrid; let him plead his case with his god.
“It is my hope that your son will rise above the dreck you’ve scattered and be a better duke than you ever were. ”
Interestingly enough, fear warred for dominance with anger in the duke’s eyes.
Did he finally understand that being a duke wouldn’t save him in the next life?
Did he realize that perhaps this ending was his fault after all?
He fought for perhaps another couple of minutes then went below the water’s surface.
This time, he didn’t come back up. A few bubbles broke from where he went down, then the water smoothed again.
Finally, the struggle was over. The sensation of needing to cast up his accounts went through Caleb, but he tamped it down.
When it appeared that the duke had, indeed, given up the ghost, only then did he wade deeper into the pond.
After releasing his fishing rod, he dug his fingers into the duke’s jacket and worked to pull the body to the edge, through the reeds until he dragged him onto the grass.
“Help! Someone help!” He made sure his yell was loud and clear as he stared down into the slack, pale face of his former employer. The open, staring eyes would forever haunt him, but the only thing he felt was relief. It was over. “The duke is in peril! Help!”
By the time the other three men ran to his location, Caleb had the duke on his back with a loosened cravat, making it seem as if he tried to help him to breathe.
“What the hell happened?” one of the men asked with shock in his expression.
“It was all so fast.” Caleb shook his head and hoped his expression conveyed confusion and grief.
“His Grace slipped on the mud, hit his head on the boulder then tumbled into the water. All in the span of time that I was scrambling to my feet.” As he spoke, he pointed out the still bleeding wound on the side of the duke’s head.
Blood mixed with mud and pond water to make a mess on the cravat and shirt.
“I waded in after him, offered him my assistance, but he refused.” Remarkably, his voice cracked.
“When he flailed about, he landed me a facer.” At least that wasn’t a lie, and he indicated his chin where it still hurt like the devil.
“Probably was frightened out of his mind. By the time I was able to get him out of the water, he was gone. Drowned or perhaps the knock to the head did it?”
Would they believe him? Would they care? No doubt the duke had done them wrong at one point or another.
There was a moment of silence as glances were exchanged, then they one by one, the men accepted the story.
“It will be a loss to the beau monde…”
Another nodded. “His Grace will be missed…”
The third one added, “May his son do better with the title…”
Oddly enough, they all wore the same expression Caleb no doubt did.
Relief and exhaustion shadowed their faces, for now the reign of fear and tyranny was over.
Every man there was free of… something, and Caleb would let them keep their own secrets.
The duke had been generous with his blackmail and power, it seemed, but now, everyone could breathe easy, and perhaps go forward in their lives without abuse.
The first man cleared his throat. “The duchess needs to know.”
Caleb nodded. It was strange, this feeling of freedom, this sensation of having constant worry suddenly cleared, of a weight lifted. “I’ll tell her. Shall I have servants come back from the house to bring him there?”
The man shrugged. “That would be best. We shall wait here then accompany him home.”
“Very well.” Slowly, Caleb struggled to his feet as water squelched in his boots. His body felt heavy and light at the same time. Bright new days beckoned, but first, appearances would need to be kept up. Propriety would have to be observed. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Perhaps fate would prove kind this time around.