Chapter 22 #2
Stephen’s words kept ringing in Richard’s head: Father, you love me too much to tell me the truth. Stephen had been talking to his Uncle Richard, not his father. And Richard had failed him.
The anger inside him raged out of control, and he heard himself speaking like Cecil—no, like his own father. Cecil had been too carefree to dress down the servants, but their father was a man who brooked no mistakes. And for once, Richard wanted to be seen as that kind of man.
“None of you has a good explanation for how this incursion happened,” he said in a severe voice. “My son could have died. If something happens due to your incompetence, I’ll hold you all responsible, and my retribution won’t involve a prison sentence!”
He was shaking with rage, but even he recognized that this was no way to motivate men into working harder. What was wrong with him?
He wanted to apologize, but he couldn’t—to them he was the duke.
He tried to speak more calmly as they gathered around him.
“The angle of the shot could only have been aimed at my son. We need to triple the patrols in these woods and along the cliffs, the most penetrable areas of the estate. But for now, our explanation for today’s disaster is that someone was illegally hunting in the woods, and they escaped. ”
Richard found Meriel and Stephen in the conservatory, telling Mrs. Theobald and Hargraves what had happened. Stephen slumped nearby on a bench, but he brightened when he saw Richard and came running. The dogs lifted their heads, but remained lounging on their sides.
Richard knelt down to hug the boy, keeping his arms around him so long that Stephen began to squirm.
“Father!” he said, laughing.
Did the boy think of Richard as his father now? He had to be told the truth. He had to understand why he was in danger. And he had to mourn his real father.
“Stephen, remain here on the bench for a moment, while I speak to the servants.”
Stephen obeyed, kicking his legs and pulling a flower closer to study. Richard went to the huddle of three adults, all of whom looked at him anxiously.
“I’d like for the rest of the household to believe this was a hunting accident,” Richard said quietly. “But I’m going to tell Stephen the truth.”
“Are you certain that’s wise?” Meriel asked. “He’s so young.”
“But we can’t allow him to put himself at risk out of ignorance. And he has to know about his father. It explains why he’s in danger.”
“Have you heard from the duke?” Mrs. Theobald whispered, looking around for eavesdroppers.
“According to Charles, he’s dead,” Richard said grimly.
Mrs. Theobald gasped, and Hargraves bowed his head.
“Charles had his ducal ring and Cecil’s terrified valet as proof,” Richard continued.
“I’m just not certain if he died from illness or if he was murdered.
I’m going to assume the latter, because Charles is now shooting at Stephen, the only one who stands between him and the title.
” He looked at Meriel. “Stephen is no longer to go outside.”
“Of course,” she said quietly.
But she wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he worried about what she might be thinking.
She took on so much, and always held herself too accountable.
He would insist on talking about it again when they were alone.
But first, he had to speak with Stephen.
He turned to look at the boy, now on his knees looking behind a fern. Only his backside showed.
Meriel must have seen something on his face, because she touched his arm. “Would you like me to be with you when you tell Stephen?”
“No, it should come from me.” He put his hand on hers and smiled down at her. “But thank you.”
He saw Mrs. Theobald look between them. He would have to be more careful showing his feelings for Meriel—but did it matter? The entire household knew she was his mistress! His life was a public display.
He led Stephen and the dogs into his study and closed the door. He and Stephen sat down in big chairs before the bare hearth.
Stephen frowned. “Father, who tried to shoot you? Are you sure it wasn’t hunters?”
“It wasn’t a hunter, Stephen. Some very important things are happening right now.
Since they involve you, I feel that you’re old enough to know the truth.
” He tried to stare into the patient eyes of the little boy, but he found himself choking up.
Instead, he looked at their joined hands, the little one so trusting in his.
“Stephen, I’ve just found out that your father has died. ”
Taking a deep breath, he looked again into Stephen’s face.
Solemnly, the boy said, “He was very sick, wasn’t he?”
Richard couldn’t tell him that his father might have been murdered, not without proof. “Yes, Stephen, he was more ill than he let on. I guess he didn’t want us to worry.”
“Where is he?”
That was far too perceptive a question, and one Richard couldn’t answer. “We’ll bring him home to be buried, I promise, but we can’t just now.”
Stephen gripped his hand even tighter. “Does that mean you’re my father now?”
Good God. The little boy’s eyes shone with tears. Richard imagined how Stephen was feeling, with no parents left to shield him from the harsh realities of life. Even Richard hadn’t truly known how alone he himself had been at this age.
“I’ll always be your uncle, Stephen, and if I’m allowed, you could live with me forever.”
“But can’t you do anything you want?”
“You’re a duke now, son. The queen or the courts might have a say in who your guardian is.”
“But—”
“But I want to be your guardian, Stephen,” he said, pulling the boy onto his lap. “I’ll fight in court to try to make it happen.”
“What if I don’t want to be the duke? Then can I live with you?”
“It’s not that easy, Stephen.” He hugged him tightly. “Right now we have a danger to worry about first.”
“The person who shot at you?”
“Yes. We have to be very careful. Until we catch this bad man, you’ll have to remain in the house and keep Victoria and Albert with you at all times.”
“Does everyone else know my father is dead?”
“No. They still believe I’m the duke, and we have to keep it that way for a little while longer.”
“Until we catch the bad man.”
“Right. Stephen, I’m going to tell you who the bad man is, just so he can’t try to take you away. He’s my cousin, Sir Charles Irving.”
“The one who tried to visit me when you were gone?”
“Yes.”
“But if he’s your cousin, why does he want to hurt us?”
Richard hesitated. “Because if something happened to you, Charles would be the next duke.”
Stephen stared at him, a frown spreading across his face.
“But I’m not going to let him hurt you,” Richard vowed.
“I know that, Uncle Richard. Can’t I just let him be the duke?”
“You deserve the title, not him. He deserves to be in jail.”
Richard looked into the innocent eyes of his nephew, and for a moment he debated on going to the police with the whole story.
But if they didn’t believe him, Stephen would immediately be placed in Charles’s care. Richard couldn’t let that happen.
For a moment, a dark thought made him pause. If Richard remained the duke, no one would challenge his right to protect Stephen. He could resurrect the pride of the title, be a better duke than Cecil ever was.
A chill went through him. Surely Cecil had once thought the same thing, that he could be a better duke than their father.
But something had corrupted Cecil, like it corrupted everyone born into this power as they were treated like infallible gods.
Even Richard, wielding power as a fraud, was not immune to it.
He had to finish this right now, capture Charles, and end this masquerade. Or he, who’d always trusted himself, would lose faith in his own judgment.