Chapter One #2
Ansley blew out a breath.
Loren was seated at the front of his father’s desk, hunched
down, legs stretched in front of him, booted ankles crossed, elbows to the
arms, fingers steepled before him.
His father was behind the desk, scowling at his son.
“Winnow Dupont is furious,” Ansley noted.
“Winnow Dupont is an unscrupulous crook,” Loren said
quietly. “And sometime this morning, if she hasn’t been already, Winnow Dupont
will be detained by the authorities and asked to explain some of the activities
she gets up to in Avon.”
The regard his father was treating his son to changed.
“Did you…go there in order to…handle this?” Ansley asked.
Loren started studying his fingernails.
Ansley waited.
When the silence stretched, Loren broke it.
“The constabulary sometimes dawdles,” he murmured his
answer.
Ansley’s voice was rising. “That’s because they must act
within the letter of the law!”
Loren straightened in his chair and leveled his attention on
his sire.
“Is it not the letter of the law that a man has the right to
defend his own person?”
“Yes, however—”
“And is it not the letter of the law that a man has the
right to defend his property, in this case, my purse?”
“Son—”
“They connived to steal from me, detain me, and I can assure
you, Father, that the men who confronted me at the door to the lovely
creature’s rooms were not there to politely ask me to sit down over a smooth
whisky with Winnow and sort these matters. They intended me harm. I defended
myself. A possession of mine was stolen from me. I retrieved it. That is the
end of the matter. I’ve already talked to the inspector. They’ve put a line
under it. It’s done.”
“You killed five men and dealt cuts that I’m told will
visibly scar two others for life.”
“Then they shan’t forget the lesson they learned last night,
shall they?”
“You had a friend detained by her, didn’t you?” his father
demanded to know.
“Farrell made a stupid mistake, visiting his favorite to say
good-bye before his wedding. He is now without a fiancée, a woman,
incidentally, he loved deeply. Though what he’s gained is an angry father who
is demanding he and his family cover the costs of the deposits set for a
wedding that did not happen. Unfortunately, Farrell feels it is only proper he
do so. Profoundly unfortunately, his lost fiancée had extravagant tastes.”
Ansley’s gaze turned to the ceiling.
“Are we done?” Loren asked.
Ansley’s gaze returned to his son.
And when he spoke, he did it softly.
“You cannot right every wrong, my beloved boy.”
On that, Loren stood.
And his only reply was, “How soon we forget.”
“Learn from a father’s mistakes.”
“That is your mistake, old man,” Loren replied
good-naturedly. “Thinking they were mistakes.”
After delivering that, even though his father opened his
mouth to say more, Loren turned and walked away.
Ansley Copeland
The Duke of Dalton
He was still at his desk when his post was brought to
him that afternoon.
And he was surprised to see the Derryman seal on the back of
one of the letters.
He broke it, unfolded the paper, and read,
My dear Dalton~
It is with joy that I share that my beautiful, darling
daughter, Maxine, has finally finished her studies, returned from Fleuridia, and is now amenable to meeting her affianced in
order to begin preparations to be wed.
Would you like us to come to you at Dalwin?
Or would you be our guests at Posey Park? Or we could meet in the middle as we
both have houses in Newton.
Please advise.
We so look forward to this alliance of Derryman and
Dalton.
It will be a jubilant day for us both!
Yours in humble service to Hawkvale~
Edgar Dawes
7th Count of Derryman
Ansley stared at the note, aghast.
Maxine Dawes, albeit lovely, and very sweet, and a young
woman he had enjoyed spending several visits with at Lancester
Sanatorium, was in absolutely no condition to marry his son, and she never
would be.
He had, of course, set about discovering why Derryman
persistently avoided all communications and attempts to bring the betrothal
contract to fruition.
What he had found was that Derryman had been lying to him
for twenty years.
His daughter had taken a tumble from a horse when she was
but six years of age, she’d hit her head, and she hadn’t been the same since.
Or, rather, she was the same.
In behavior, she was still six.
However, her age was twenty-six.
This might also answer the question on everyone’s lips, when
Maxine was supposedly sent to Fleuridia to attend
boarding school, and shortly thereafter, Derryman’s wife took her own life in a
ghastly manner that still was spoken of with shock.
He had hoped Derryman would beg off himself, however the man
needed to do that to save face.
But this…
Ansley sat back in his chair.
He’d had a lengthy, and confidential, discussion with her
doctor. He was told she would never recover. It was an impossibility.
Unless they found some miracle.
He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Derryman’s play was.
But he would find out.
And then they would finish this, and Loren would be free.
Further, Ansley would be free to put his foot down.
His son was to find a woman, settle down, make her heavy
with child (repeatedly) and stop galivanting about Hawkvale
(and farther afield), bedding women, partaking in games of chance, larking
about…with heavy, terrifying doses of his activities of the night before.
Playing a vigilante.
The House of Dalton was at stake.
And every Duke in his line made several vows when he
accepted that title, all of which were crucial.
But the continuation of the line was the most important of
all.
Even more important than their vow of loyalty to the king.
On this thought, Ansley sat forward and took out a crisp
piece of his stationery.
And he wrote his reply.