Anyway, she confirmed what Anthony had told me as true. I had no father who loved me before I was even born as she had previously told me. My father had paid for sex from my mother. Nothing more. Nothing less.
I'm sure you can imagine how difficult it was for me to sleep that night. My friend's betrayal and my own new lineage weighed heavily on my mind. Since I could not sleep, I stayed awake deciding how to get my revenge. At first I contemplated murder. I'm not entirely proud of that, but Rebecca could not marry Simon if he were dead.
But then I decided on something better. Something they would never see coming.
You see, I know Rebecca loved me just as I loved her, but she made her choice. She chose money and a title over love, and I would have to find a way to make her see the error of her ways.
By the time the sun came up, I was ready to set my plan into motion. I still had time to get her away from Simon. I just had to make her see that I could take care of her.
A few weeks later, I learned Rebecca had married Hartwell. Just like that. No long engagement. No proper ceremony. I could barely find the energy to get out of bed the next morning. Up until that time, I had still held onto hope that she would change her mind and follow her heart. Her heart led to me, I knew it did. But after the announcement came, I knew better.
That's when the wheels began spinning faster in my mind. If Rebecca had been a pocket watch or some other possession, Simon and Anthony both would have been thrown in jail for thievery. The same went for Rebecca — she was my possession, my own personal love, and they had conspired to take her away from me. Anthony knew exactly what he was doing when he told her I was the bastard son of a duke. He knew it… He'd done it to keep me from marrying her because he didn't feel I was good enough for her.
I'd show him how good I was…
A few months later, I went to a party thrown by Edward Lofton, one of the richest men in all of Darenset — a very important thing to me, indeed, for this man had no title. He had gained his wealth from ownership of a textile factory and, at the time I assumed, luck. I met his daughter there, a naive little thing named Cecelia. She was nothing like Rebecca. Her hair wasn't nearly as spectacular. Her face was a bit too tanned and she had one tooth in the bottom of her mouth that crooked behind the other.
Still…
She seemed smitten with me, and I played the part of smitten lover back. I knew I could never love another woman as I had loved Rebecca, but I also knew that to get anywhere in life, I needed to marry — marry well — and have a family. You may see the irony in this after how ill I thought Rebecca for doing the same, but my heart had hardened. If I couldn't have love with Rebecca, then I would have to settle for money and power. To get that power, I had to marry well and that meant, putting all of my feelings and disgust aside and marrying the mousey Cecelia Lofton
The good thing about our union — the only good thing mind you — was that I got to spend lots of time with her father and learned the ins and outs of the textile factory. When he died, it all became mine: the factory, his wealth, and his collection of sins.
He is the one who taught me how to get ahead in this world. He said if you knew something on someone, then he would do whatever you wanted to keep the sin from getting out. So all I had to do was keep my eyes out, keep my ears open, and I'd learn everyone's sins. Then all I had to do was threaten to expose them and everything I ever wanted would be mine.
Well, not everything I wanted…
A few years after Rebecca married Simon, I passed him walking down the street. He had a little girl in his arms, a girl about the same age as our Trudy. The girl looked so much like her mother that it hurt to look at her.
The girl, he told me her name was Emma, should have been my daughter. Not the sickly girl I could never take out with me. Not the girl who had cried the first year of her life and was ill. Emma was beautiful, kind, smart. She was everything a father could want in a daughter. And she should have been mine.
Simon introduced me to her, but acted as if he'd rather be anywhere else. I, however, was exactly where I wanted to be and smiled at my good fortune. He said he'd heard I'd married and now owned the factory. I nodded and told him I'd heard he was expecting another child, to which he answered yes.
He appeared to want to ask me something else, and I lingered just to hear what he had to say for himself. "It has been years since that incident at Anthony's manor."
It might have been years, but it felt as though only days.
"We are both happy now, you and I. Married to our loves. We both have daughters and Anthony, he has a son. Can we let the past stay in the past? Can we all move on with our lives and look to the future? Can our feud be over?"
I heard the fear in his voice and it elated me. He'd no doubt heard what I had done to a worker who had lied to me, for if there are two things in this world I hate it is liars and betrayers. I had only begun my reputation of sin collecting, but appeared it had already reached Simon. Good.
I stepped closer to Simon and smiled as I gently pinched his little girl's cheek, making her giggle. "It'll never be over. I know your sins, Simon. I can use them anytime I want. I can do anything I want to you — to your family."
I looked Emma in the eyes. "Please tell your mother that Frederick says hi."
With that, I left him and whistled all the way to my office. I would get my justice, and I knew exactly how I'd do it…
The fire roared in his fireplace, making Frederick think of that night at Anthony's home. Perhaps it was why this was the night he chose to make his confession. In order for everything to happen next, she had to understand.
They were seated in his study, a place they had sat and chatted many times, though none of those times were like this. Those times were just merely to keep her occupied, keep her happy and content. They meant nothing to him, not really. But now that he'd told her the truth and he couldn't help but wonder how she would take it. He imagined it would not be good, for what wife would accept the discovery that her husband never loved her in a "good" way?
He took a sip of whisky and leaned back in his chair, watching the flames breathe in controlled chaos. "So, now you know. After all these years, you finally know."
Cecelia Dodsworth — formerly Cecelia Lofton — watched the flames as well. Her fingers played with the fabric of her plain white nightgown. Everything about her was so boringly plain. Plain gown, plain hair, plain eyes, plain body, plain face. Nothing extraordinary about her at all. Not like Rebecca, who was the total opposite. There was nothing plain about her. Nothing. "Why has it taken you so long to tell me this?"
He shrugged. He knew why, but she didn't have to know it, not right this instant anyway. "Because I needed you to believe I loved you. I needed you, and now…"
"Now you don't."
"I wouldn't say that." He took another sip of whisky and stood. "I do need you, but not as you imagine."
Cecelia sat in a near daze. "But… all these years. I thought, I thought you loved me. I thought you married me because you loved me. You made me believe…"
"I know I did, and I'm not sorry. If it hurts your feelings, then those are your issues and not mine. I did what I had to do to secure my place in the world just as I told Anthony I would do. I needed money, I married the daughter of a rich man. It is not that hard to follow."
"But we… we have a daughter."
"One does not need to be in love to procreate," he answered simply. He had wanted to tell Cecelia the truth since their wedding night. She had been so happy and clingy and…, on his nerves. She had been completely in love with him, which, he supposed, had been the point. Her father loved her and would never marry her off to just some money-hungry man. So he'd had to play his part perfectly, and he'd done so. They had married, but then he still could not let anyone in on his lie.
Her father had died about five years after they were married. An accident in the factory and then all of it went to Frederick: the factory, the wealth, the connections, everything. And
he grew it into the business it is today. He was proud of his work, proud of his money, and he didn't feel guilty for how he'd gotten it.
"So… you never loved me?" she asked, her voice raw from hearing the story. He imagined her heart had broken. He also imagined that he didn't care. She was and had always been a means to an end.
"How could one love a weed when he'd had the prettiest flower in the garden in his grasp?"
He heard her snivel behind him and it made him angry. Why it made him angry, he wasn't entirely sure, but he had no time to comfort her — not that he would. Time was of the essence, and he had to get her out of his study before the clock struck eleven.
"I wasn't always like I am today," he said, trying not let the anger get the best of him. "I once was kind and good. I loved to please people. I cared what others thought of me. I wanted to do good, have friends, and lead a good, productive life. And I was in love, Cecelia. And do you know what? Rebecca loved me too."
"I love you," Cecelia answered barely over a whisper. "I've loved you all these years. I've stood by you when no other wife would."
"I never asked you to. That was your choice, your conscience telling you what you could and couldn't take. But know this, you aren't Rebecca… you can never be Rebecca. Ever. And you never were."
Cecelia gasped like it had just hit her… she had always been very slow. "Emma Hartwell. Emma is Simon and Rebecca's daughter. That's why you have her here as a servant! You are punishing Simon for stealing Rebecca away from you."
He couldn't deny it, nor would he. "I bought out his debt, and then he owed me. I made the terms and he was too much of a coward to stop me or even question me. That's what Hartwell has always been, a spineless coward and even more so after Anthony Wexley's untimely death."
"That poor man died of a heart attack, right? You didn't have anything to do with it?"
He liked the questioning in her voice. It let him know that her love for him was beginning to fade, and she saw the world, finally, for what it was. She had been a pawn, a means to an end, and now his use for her was ending. "Are you certain you want me to answer that truthfully?"
She gasped and her hand moved to her lips, those lips I had been forced to kiss to keep her happy — never again. "Why are you telling me all of this now? This night?"
"Because I need you to do something for me."
"Why would I help you?" she asked, and he liked the forcefulness with which she said it. Every time she spoke, he heard the threads of her heart breaking and her love for him shattering. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world. It freed him more than he ever thought possible.
"Because if you don't, you will be out on the streets. No money, no help. Nothing. Do you want that?"
"Do you want people to think you abandoned your own family?" she bit back. "Do you know how that would look to the people in society?"
He turned and bent down into her face, placing both hands on the chair to keep her still and unable to move. "You do not threaten me, Cecelia. My wife. Do not forget, I know things about the family business that can tarnish your good name. And don't forget your daughter. Do you really think someone would want to marry her if some of the information I know comes out?"
"She's your daughter too."
"In name only." He sneered and backed away. The clock on the mantle struck eleven. No more time to waste talking over things that could never be changed. "Now. You will go upstairs and change into some day clothing. You will wake Trudy and tell her to pack her things. We will get Elizabeth to help as well. You and Trudy will be gone by morning."
"Where?" Her voice shook. He smiled. She knew she had no choice. It was how he liked it.
"Everdale. My mother's old home. I've procured a home for you there and a servant. You are to never go into town yourself, do you understand? You or Trudy for if you do, I will cut both of you off. No more money. No more protection. And God help anybody who tries to think or speak ill of me for doing so." He refilled his whisky glass. "You will be gone indefinitely, until I have had my revenge."
"You're revenge? Anthony is dead. Rebecca is dead…"
He held up his hand to stop her. Every time he thought of Rebecca's death it was like being stabbed in his own heart. Death during a second child's birth. That made her death Simon's fault for a woman could not become with child without a man. "That man couldn't even protect her. If she had been with me, she would have gotten the best doctor's care. She wouldn't have died. I wouldn't have allowed it."
"You were out of town when I had Trudy," Cecelia reminded him… like he needed reminding. "How would you have known if something had gone wrong?" She sounded bitter. She was slowly becoming a woman scorned. Just the way he wanted her.
He said nothing in response. No, he hadn't been around when Trudy was born. Why would he be? He cared not if Cecelia died in childbirth. In fact, it probably would have helped his cause more. The grieving widower. He could imagine the secrets he would have learned from helpful friends trying to make him feel better.
Then again, no. He had to admit that he was glad she'd had no complications and hadn't died. Though he didn't love her and he was, in fact, breaking her heart at the moment, the last almost twenty years with Cecelia hadn't been entirely bad. She had her moments, and they'd had a few moments of happiness. Not many and definitely not as many as he would have had with Rebecca — but they were there. Though he didn't love Cecelia, he didn't wish her ill.
When he wouldn't answer, she sighed and continued. "You have Simon and Rebecca's daughter. What more can you want?"
"You have no idea." He answered. How could she understand? Cecelia had never uttered a cross word about anybody — ever. She was a good woman, that could not be disputed, but she had served her purpose, and now it was time for her to do one last thing for him.
A few moments passed without a word from either of them. "Go," he said finally, wishing for the interminable silence to end.
Cecelia rose, but hesitated when she got to the door. "I loved you, Frederick Dodsworth. Heart and soul. I gave you the best years of my life. I took care of you. I took care of our daughter. I would have given you anything in this world. Anything."
Frederick kept his back to her. "You couldn't give me what I wanted."
"What was that?" He heard the hope in her voice. She truly loved him and would have given anything to keep him, anything to keep him happy.
"You weren't Rebecca."
He heard the door slam behind him and he smiled. Did he like telling Cecelia he never loved her? Well, not really. He'd known she would snivel and complain. He couldn't really blame her, though. What woman would want to hear those words coming from her husband?
Still, it had needed to be done. She had to understand what was going on so she would go quietly. Did he think she would go all the way to Everdale without complaint or a billion questions if he hadn't told her the truth? If he hadn't told his story to her? No. He knew she wouldn't because she wasn't that kind of woman. She would have wanted to know why. What sort of danger was he in? Why were they not taking Emma and the servants? What was going on? She had always been an inquisitive sort, it was just that she had never asked the right questions.
And it did hurt, truthfully, to think of Trudy leaving. His daughter. His one and only child. She wasn't the child he wanted or the child he felt he deserved. She was so… annoying at times. And sick. The doctor's bill alone to keep her healthy was more than he cared to think about. Still, he could tell she loved him with her whole heart, just like her mother. He didn't despise his daughter, but he wasn't proud of her either. She had only had one suitor come calling in the past few weeks, and it was that William Haddington, Anthony's son's friend. Then again, that had been very fortuitous on Frederick's behalf.
The worst part of Trudy leaving was only a week before, he'd paid for her coming out party. She was to debut at her first ball tomorrow night. He'd spent a lot of money on her party, money he couldn't ever get back, but it would be well worth it.
>
She'd be gone.
Emma would have to go to the ball.
She'd just "happen" to run into Vaughan Wexley, son of Anthony, and they would just happen to fall in love.
The pieces had all been set. The plan had been set in motion for years. Telling Cecelia had been the last step. Now that horrible trip into his past had gone and it was time to look into the future. What better way to get justice than to hurt their children?
He only wished Anthony had been alive to see this.
Frederick Dodsworth took the last gulp of whisky and threw the glass into the fire.
He loved his life.
THE DEVIL DUKE TAKES A BRIDE
A Renwick House Novel
by Rachel Van Dyken
CHAPTER ONE
An Unfortunate Turn of Events
Cough, cough, cough. "So, you see, my boy, there isn't another option. I am at the end of my life and in need of this final boon in order to pass into the land of our ancestors."
Benedict Devlyn, Duke of Banbury, was determined not to roll his eyes as he squinted at his more-than-healthy aunt. "Forgive me, but I highly doubt the sniffles will be the death of you. Unless you have some other sort of illness that has you spouting off nonsensical death wishes. Oh wait, yes, did your dog bite you? And it's become infected? Yes, must be it. That's why you're dying, certainly not from sitting too near Lady Renwick when she was ill last week."
"Impetuous man, look at me!"
He was looking at her. And all he saw was a woman at the prime old age of one and seventy, with the uncanny ability to hug a man so tightly he nearly lost whatever food he'd managed to shovel in during tea while the witch discussed the importance of her dog. Well, that and he had the sneaking suspicion that for one reason or another, she was lying through her teeth. For his aunt, of all people, to summon him wasn't normal. Nor was answering her every beck and call something he made a habit of doing.
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