by Laura Landon
His Grace slashed his hand in front of him. “Enough, Ernesta!” He slammed his fist against the back of the sofa, then turned his back on his duchess. He stepped around the furniture and took several unsteady steps away from where the others sat.
“Edward, please—”
“No!” he roared, then he picked up a vase filled with fresh flowers and hurled it through the air. The vase hit the wall with an exploding crash, and shards of fine china shattered everywhere.
For several long, agonizing moments, the room was filled with nothing but an eerie silence. Its death-like grip reached to every part of the room, inching its way into every crack and crevice like the silent destroyer that it was.
Eve felt the painful destruction it caused, as well as the carnage it left in its wake. She knew she would bear a crush of guilt when the truth was revealed, but she hadn’t anticipated that the pain would be this great. She had no idea that she would feel as if death had visited her as well as the members of Gideon’s family but the painful agony was almost unbearable.
The first to speak wasn’t the duke, nor was it Gideon. He hadn’t made a move since the door had closed. He clutched the wooden frame around the window as if it might fall if he didn’t hold it firm. Lord Benjamin uttered the first words. The pain in his voice sliced through Eve like a rapier swung through the air. His words struck her flesh and left only shreds of bleeding flesh in its wake.
“Why, Mother?”
The Duchess of Townsend turned to her son. Her face had lost its color. Her eyes glazed haunted and empty. Her lower lip trembled when she spoke. But there was a proud lift to her chin, the royal carriage she’d no doubt honed to perfection the minute she became duchess. “For you, Benjamin. You were destined to be the next Duke of Townsend.” She shifted a hate-filled glare to where Gideon stood. “Her son was never intended to be the Townsend heir. You were!”
The Duke of Townsend reacted with such violence Eve feared he would do his wife physical harm. Her father and Lord Benjamin rushed to restrain His Grace when he lunged at his wife.
“By Her, are you referring to Rebecca?” he bellowed.
The duchess’s chin rose even higher. “Who else would I refer to, Edward? You were mine first. Never hers! You would have married me if she hadn’t come between us. I had your love until you saw her. Once you laid eyes on her, you expected me to give you up like I would one of last year’s gowns.”
“What did you do, Ernesta?”
“I freed you, Edward. That’s what I did! I freed you from that weak, pathetic woman. She was never strong enough or good enough for you. Her father was a baron. Nothing more than a baron. At least my father was an earl, and my grandmother the daughter of a duke. You deserved better.”
The Duke of Townsend’s features were livid with hatred. “Tell me you didn’t kill her. Tell me you didn’t poison her like you were poisoning my son.”
“Of course I poisoned her! How else would I free you to get you back? You were mine, Edward. You were always meant to be mine.”
“And Dr. Milton?”
The duchess hesitated, then shrugged her shoulder. “I had to. He discovered what I was doing. He was going to tell you.”
With a mighty roar of anguish, the Duke of Townsend clutched at his stomach and doubled over as if the pain attacking him was as debilitating as the pain from which Gideon suffered with each seizure.
Benjamin stepped closer to his father and wrapped his arm around his father’s shoulder. Tears streamed down Lord Benjamin’s cheeks and fell like drops of blood onto his father’s shoulder.
For several minutes no one moved; no one dared. Eve looked at her father and he stepped beside her and gathered her in his arms. She’d never needed comfort as badly as she did at this moment.
The reverie didn’t last long enough, however. The Duke of Townsend rose to his full height. His stance portrayed the pride Eve had always seen in Gideon’s father, his bearing rigid and inflexible. His carriage contained the dignity and self-control that made him the Duke of Townsend.
Before he spoke, he turned to Lord Benjamin and clasped him on the shoulder, then pulled him close and held him. The two embraced in a show of love that brought fresh tears to Eve’s eyes.
The duke released his son, then turned to his wife.
“You murderous viper,” he said. His voice bristled with loathing and hatred. “You deserve to be hanged for what you did. And you would be, if not for my children.”
“Edward, please—”
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear one word from you ever again.” The duke took a threatening step toward his wife. “You have exactly one hour to pack a trunk and get the hell out of my house.”
“Edward, no!”
His Grace’s hand shot through the air and connected with Her Grace’s face. The smack of his hand hitting her flesh echoed in the room.
“You will take this woman with you,” he said, pointing at Cook. “I own a piece of property in the north of Scotland. It is in such a remote area, even I have never stepped foot on it. I’ll inform the area magistrate to report to me of your arrival, and to report monthly that you remain in residence there. If you try to leave, you will be found and turned over to the authorities.”
“But how will I live?” Her Grace cried. “Who will take care of me?”
“I don’t care if no one does,” His Grace answered, every word seething with bitterness. “If not for the children, I would have you brought up on charges. I would expose your vile cruelty to the world and make you a pariah. Then watch you executed for what you’ve done.”
The Duchess of Townsend emitted a painful sob. Her husband ignored her.
“One hour, Ernesta. What’s not packed will be burned. I want nothing left to remind me that I ever knew you. Now, go!”
“Edward!” the duchess cried. “You—”
“One hour!”
The duke glared at her with bitter hatred, then he bellowed with enough force for his demand to echo throughout the room for several seconds. “Go!”
The duchess rushed from the room with Cook on her heels. When she was gone, the duke turned to Lord Benjamin. “Go to your sisters. Tell them no more than that their mother is going away. Allow them to say goodbye and show her their love. But no more. I will talk to them later and try to explain.”
Benjamin nodded, then walked to the door. The duke’s words stopped him. “Son,” he said. “You may say your goodbyes, too.”
“There is no need, Father. My mother is dead.”
The door closed behind Lord Benjamin, and only then did Eve realize that Gideon had moved. He now stood beside his father.
Eve looked at him. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was that things had turned out the way they had. But this is how she knew they would end. He wouldn’t look at her.
“How did you know what she’d done?” the duke asked.
She turned her attention to His Grace. “Your wife Rebecca told me,” she whispered. “I found her journal. She suspected Ernesta of poisoning her shortly before she died. So did Dr. Milton. He’d come to the same conclusion, only he didn’t have time to come to you before he was killed.” Eve lowered her head. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Do you have her journal?” the duke asked.
“Yes.”
“I’d like to read it,” he said with reverence.
“No, Father.”
The Duke of Townsend turned to his son. “Have you read your mother’s journal?”
“Yes, but—”
“Do you regret knowing her last thoughts?”
“No, but—”
“Then neither will I. No matter how painful it is to know how she suffered, it’s important that I know.” He turned to Eve. “I will rely on you to send my wife’s journal.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Miss Cornwell. I owe you a great deal.” The Duke of Townsend bowed before her, then turned and left the room.
Eve watched him leave, then turn
ed to Gideon. She desperately wanted him to understand. Desperately wanted him to realize that she didn’t have a choice but to reveal his stepmother for the monster she was. She opened her mouth to tell him that but he didn’t give her the chance. He looked at her with an icy glare. His nostrils flared with anger. His mouth pursed with resentment. And he lifted his chin to look down on her with as much disdain and disgust as she’d ever seen. Then he spoke.
“I hope you’re satisfied,” he said, then turned his back on her.
CHAPTER 27
Gideon rose early, as usual. He found it difficult to sleep. Impossible most nights. Every time he closed his eyes, Eve’s face appeared in the shadows. Each time he fell asleep, her face appeared in his dreams. If not her face, then her body beneath him. Her flesh touching his. Her arms wrapped around him.
He awoke each night drenched in sweat, his breathing harsh and labored, his mind crowded with memories of her. Then, he’d throw the covers from over him and get to his feet. He’d pace the floor from one side of his room to the other asking himself the same questions: How could there have been another outcome? What could he have done to make everything turn out differently? And sometimes, What if he had eaten that cake?
What he’d feared had come true. It had been a month, and Townsend Manor was like a morgue. Winnie and Anne hadn’t smiled once since their mother had left. Benjamin hadn’t drawn a sober breath. And the light was gone from his father’s eyes.
Gideon wanted to blame Eve for the lives that were changed—destroyed—but it wasn’t her fault. It was his.
If he could have found a way to prevent her from revealing what Ernesta had done, he could have spared his family the suffering they were going through. But that had never been possible. And Eve had known it from the beginning. He was the one who’d been blind to the inevitable outcome. But the night of the dinner, he’d needed someone to blame, and he’d turned on the one person who was blameless.
He was overcome with guilt. Overcome with regret for how he’d treated her. For the words he’d spoken to her. The accusations he’d leveled at her.
He hadn’t seen her since that night. More than once he’d gone to Shadowdown, but he’d stopped before he’d reached the grounds. He wasn’t ready to talk to her yet. Although he knew he shouldn’t be, he was still too angry.
And yet…He wasn’t angry with her. He was angry with his stepmother. He was angry with himself. And for the first time in his life—he was angry at the world. At everyone, except Eve. He owed her an apology, and he needed to offer her one…and soon. Now. Today.
Gideon dressed as usual, then walked down the stairs. He’d see her as soon as he ate. It was past time. He entered the small dining room and stopped short.
He expected to eat breakfast alone as usual, but instead, he found his father seated at the table. And Ben, who spent every night at the local inn and didn’t rise before noon, sat at his place at the table nursing a cup of very black coffee.
Gideon was glad to see them there. It had been too long.
“Good morning, Father,” he said entering the room. He smiled when he saw his brother’s bloodshot, half open eyes. “Benjamin,” he greeted. “Yes, there is a sun, and it rises every morning even when you don’t.”
“Very funny,” Benjamin muttered, taking another drink of his coffee.
“Good morning, Gideon,” his father greeted. “I knew you, unlike your brother, would rise in time to join us, so I didn’t inform you that your presence was expected this morning.”
Gideon filled a plate from the side bar and sat next to his father. “A command audience, Father?”
“I think it’s time, don’t you?” the duke answered.
“Yes. It’s time.” Gideon took a sip of his coffee and looked at his brother. He’d chosen to cope with what had happened by drinking himself into a drunken stupor every night. Maybe someday he would find someone that could take away his anger and allow him to accept what had happened.
“So, Father,” Gideon said between bites of egg and sausage. “For what purpose have you called this family gathering?”
His Grace nodded in the butler’s direction and the room cleared of servants. When the door closed behind them, his father pushed his empty plate back and brought his cup and saucer in front of him. “I have come to the realization that my sons have forgotten who they are. It is time I remind them.”
Benjamin looked up in what seemed a foggy haze and lifted the corners of his mouth. “And who exactly are we, Father?”
His Grace leaned forward. “You are my son, Benjamin. You are an heir to the Townsend Dynasty. And you seem to have forgotten that. You are the same wonderful person you were before we discovered what your mother did. And you do not bear any responsibility for what happened. You seem to want to carry the burden for your mother’s mistakes and I will not allow it. You seem to have forgotten what being my son requires of you.”
The duke sat straighter. “You suffered a terrible blow. We all did. But we will rise above this. We are not weak like some others are weak.”
“My mother was a murderer, Your Grace,” Benjamin said a little louder than usual. “She murdered Gideon’s mother because she wanted to be your duchess. She was attempting to murder Gideon so I could be the future Duke of Townsend.”
“Your mother loved you,” His Grace countered, then he leveled Benjamin a look that brooked no argument. “And yes, your mother committed murder.” He leaned forward. “Did you ask her to do what she did? Did you tell her that you wanted to be the future duke?”
“No!”
“Then did you have knowledge of what she was doing and fail to stop her?”
“Hell, no!”
“Then why do you feel responsible for what happened?”
His brother opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. “But how could she?” he finally asked, much softer. His voice filled with much more pain.
“That is a question I’ve asked myself a million times over this past month. I was here from before it started,” His Grace said. “If anyone is to blame for not seeing what she’d done, it’s me.”
“No, Father,” Benjamin and Gideon both said. “None of this was your fault,” Benjamin added.
“Just like it is not yours, either.”
The room was painfully quiet before Benjamin asked his next question. “But how...?” he started, then stopped.
“Finish, son,” the duke said.
“How can you stand to look at us?” he finished in a cry of despair.
The Duke of Townsend placed his folded napkin on the table and rose to his feet. “Come here, Benjamin. Stand before me.”
Benjamin rose, then stood in front of his father. When he was close enough, the duke opened his arms and gathered his son into his open embrace.
“My son,” he said. “I love you more than I love life itself. You were a blessing when your mother gave you to me, and you are more of a blessing today. I love you, and I always will.”
The sobbing from his sibling was at first quiet and muffled. Then it grew louder and more heart wrenching. Tears filled Gideon’s eyes and ran in rivers down his face.
His father and brother clung to each other in a display that left no doubt as to the love their father had for his second son. And that love would begin the healing process.
Gideon found himself on his feet, then he moved the few feet needed to stand behind his father and his brother. He opened his arms like he’d seen his father do, and completed the circle. Before he realized it, Ben’s arm wrapped around him to bring him closer.
He knew they were a family in this—and that they would survive.
. . .
“So, what do you intend to do, Father,” Gideon asked when Benjamin was gone. Gideon sat with his father.
His father looked at him. “I’m going to proceed as I always have. Parliament opens in a few weeks and I will take my place as is my responsibility. I’ll circulate the rumor that Her Grace has fallen ill, and has gone north to re
cuperate.”
“Do you think her friends will believe it?”
“Friends? Of course they will. There’s no reason for them not to.” His father focused his attention on Gideon. “The more important question is, what are you going to do, Gideon?”
Gideon rose from the table and walked to the window that overlooked the garden. He didn’t speak for several moments, and when he did, his voice sounded hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure what he would do. Because he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure he could continue without her.
“I don’t know, Father. The entire time I lived at Shadowdown, I dreamed of taking my place alongside you. Not in London—that is not where I will ever belong, but here. I belong here. Taking care of the estates. Helping in that regard.”
“But now?”
Gideon braced his hands against the sides of the window frame. “Now, I just need time. I feel as if I’m…lost.”
“That’s because you need to find that part of your heart you left back at Shadowdown.”
Gideon looked over his shoulder. “I didn’t leave anything at Shadowdown.”
“I think you left something very important there. Do you think I don’t recognize the signs, Gideon? You forget, I was in love once myself.”
“Once, Father?”
“Yes, once. With your mother.”
“And Ernesta?”
His father focused on a crumb on the table. He pushed it from one spot to another. “I cared for Ernesta. I always had. Even before I met your mother. Then after. I needed her. I was lonely. You were seven years old and I thought you needed a mother’s love. She was familiar. She’d been your mother’s companion for several years.” He paused. “It was convenient to marry her. But I never loved her. Not like I loved your mother. We shared a special love that comes along only once in a lifetime. I think you’ve found that love.”
“I thought I had, too,” Gideon whispered. “But I was mistaken. Love requires trust. And loyalty. I discovered Eve neither trusted me, nor could she be loyal to me. ”
Gideon walked to the table and sank into a chair. “When I read Mother’s journal, I knew what she’d written would destroy you. It would destroy everyone I cared about.”