If St Aldric had his way, Sam would be just as separate as he had always been from the one woman he wanted and forced for ever into her company. ‘You presume far too much, your Grace.’ He pulled away from the man who held him and shook the wrinkles from his coat as a distraction from the thoughts racing in his head.
‘You are an ungrateful brat, Sam.’ After what he had done, Thorne seemed to think he had a right to an opinion.
Sam turned his anger on the more deserving target. ‘You have no right to lecture me on it, now that the truth is out. What are you to me, sir, after all this time?’
‘Only the man who raised you,’ Thorne said.
‘And fed me on lies like they were mother’s milk,’ Sam snapped back. ‘For Evie’s sake, we will not discuss the extent of your perfidy. But do not think I forgive you for it.’
Thorne’s eyes widened. ‘She is my only child. I did what was best for her and for you as well.’
From the other side of the room, Sam heard a soft clearing of a throat and remembered that they were not alone with the argument. He turned back towards the duke and stared at the man in silence. Did St Aldric really think it was an honour to be so abandoned by one’s father that one had no identity at all? Then Sam had been wrong about him. The man was a fool.
‘I can see that it will take some time for us to get used to the knowledge that has been imparted, and to digest the change and decide what best to do about it,’ St Aldric said, still the soul of diplomacy. It was clear that he did not think himself in need of delay, but he meant to hold his tongue and bide his time for the sake of his brother. He reached out a hand and patted Thorne upon the back. ‘Thank you, for my father and myself, for the service you have done my family and for revealing it to us now.’ They were the right words for the circumstance and it made Sam feel all the smaller for his petulance, no matter how justified it might have been. ‘And now, if you gentlemen will excuse me?’ He gave a gracious nod as though he had already heard the affirmative response and excused himself from the room.
Thorne stared at Sam and let out a hiss of disapproval. ‘You might be the son of a duke, Hastings, but it is clear that you have inherited none of that family’s grace. Evelyn was right to choose St Aldric over you, for you are behaving just as I assumed you would.’
‘Thank you for confirming that,’ Sam said.
‘Her happiness has been all that mattered, to me, from the first. And you were never meant to be a part of that.’ Thorne was smiling in triumph, like a priest in the throes of religious mania. ‘Go ahead. Run to her. Tell her everything. Try to turn her against me. See if she thanks you for it.’
Evie looked at her father with the adoration of an only daughter. In her eyes, he could do no wrong. To hear otherwise would crush her. Sam shook his head. ‘No, Thorne. I do not think so. I would have to be willing to break Evie’s heart and claim it is for her own good. The day I do that is the day I prove I am truly your son.’
Chapter Ten
After leaving Thorne, Sam still wanted a drink. In a case like this, Dr Hastings would prescribe a brandy for shock. That and a chance to sit down and sort this through without people prying through the contents of his head. ‘Physician, heal thyself,’ he muttered and headed towards the decanter in the library.
When his nerves were settled, he would find Evie. He must apologise for his words in the garden. As soon as they had cleared the air of that, he could persuade her to cry off on the engagement and come away with him. She had offered once to run to Gretna with him. It would have to do. There was no time for a proper courtship and banns.
He must get her out of London before the scandal broke. And, even more important, he must get her away from this house. He had been able to manage a chilly respect when he’d believed Thorne was his father. But he owed that man nothing at all now. He had not been taken in out of love or charity, or for any bond of family. His presence here had been to curry favour with old St Aldric. It was nothing more than that. It was only a matter of time before he shouted those words in Thorne’s face, along with the ugliness that Sam had believed to be the truth.
Evie must never know of that. Thorne had been trying, in his own sick way, to protect her. If Sam was to be her husband, that task would fall to him. And he would make a better job of it.
‘Hastings!’
Sam flinched. His newfound brother had been waiting for him in the hall, eager to continue the conversation. He turned stiffly. ‘Your Grace.’
St Aldric looked faintly amused. ‘You cannot avoid me for the rest of your life, you know. Not if I mean to claim you as family.’
Perhaps not. But he was tempted to try. ‘I am not avoiding you,’ he said cautiously. ‘I thought you meant to let things settle, before talking again.’
‘How long is that likely to take?’ St Aldric asked. Apparently, he thought a few moments were long enough to re-order one’s whole understanding of life.
‘It was a considerable shock to me, to learn the truth after all this time.’
St Aldric nodded. ‘I suppose I cannot really imagine, any more than you could imagine my life.’
‘My presence or absence could not really matter so much to it,’ Sam said, drily.
The duke seemed surprised. ‘On the contrary. Although I can afford almost any luxury, this was one thing that I knew to be ever out of my reach. One cannot purchase a brother.’
Any more than one could cease to have a sister. But it had just happened to Sam. He looked at the duke again, trying to raise some of the filial emotion that the man hoped for. He felt only jealousy. ‘It takes more than blood to create such a link.’
‘Perhaps,’ the duke allowed. ‘But I see no reason why the two of us might not at least become friends.’
If he saw no reason, he was deliberately being obtuse. But then, when they had met, the duke had assumed a bond existed between Sam and Evie. Sam had denied it and relinquished all claim on her. He could not suddenly reverse the position without explaining his reasons.
He did not want to become like Thorne, willing to say anything to achieve his ends. The shame of his earlier beliefs would die quietly, assuming he did not speak of them to all and sundry. Newfound kinship did not entitle St Aldric to every sordid detail of Sam’s past.
In his mind, he transferred the cordial indifference he had shared with Thorne to his new family and gave a respectful nod. ‘I am sorry. You are correct. I am being unreasonable about the situation.’
‘As you said, it was a shock,’ the duke reminded him. ‘You can hardly be expected to take it calmly. Your temper does not offend me in the least. Certain latitudes of personality are permitted. In families.’ The words made him grin again, showing that he felt no reservations at all in the discovery. It was yet another example of the man’s superior nature.
And it was tiresome in the extreme. ‘All the same, I apologise,’ Sam said, grudgingly.
‘Apology accepted,’ said the duke. There was no corresponding apology, of course, because the man never did anything to need one. He was, as he had been from the first, perfect.
But now he was engaged to Evelyn.
‘Now that we have settled that, you must excuse me,’ Sam said, suddenly sure that if he had to look into the handsome face and listen to one more sensible word he would fall on the duke like an animal and beat him senseless.
‘A moment.’ St Aldric held up a single finger, as though such a small gesture was all he needed to subdue Sam. ‘This still does not answer my question. I do not see any reason why we cannot become friends. Do you?’
It was an opportunity to be honest, for once. To explain the situation and how impossible a friendship between them would be.
Instead, he lied through his teeth. ‘Of course not.’
‘Then it is settled.’ The duke was smiling at him as though a few words had cemented their relationship. ‘If you wish, I will put you forth as a member of my club.’
Where they could keep running into each other, he s
upposed. Did the man intend to be omnipresent in his life?
St Aldric saw his hesitation. ‘It will give you a chance to meet other gentlemen and advance to the position of your choosing. You might not wish to be my personal physician. But there are any number of gouty old lords in need of your services. Perhaps one of them would suit you.’
When put this way, it was actually tempting. And he’d have been on it like a shot had the offer come from any other person. Sam felt a moment’s wistfulness for the family he might have had, had things been different. He’d not thought he needed an actual father. At least not for affection. But a hand on his shoulder to steady him, educate him and introduce him in the correct circles would have been damned helpful.
He’d had it once from Thorne. That man had proved false in the end. Then he remembered the reason for Thorne’s change of heart. It was the same reason he could not accept the help of the man in front of him. Evelyn.
Sam gave a respectful nod of his head, trying to keep the sarcasm from his voice. ‘Thank you for your offer, your Grace. But, regretfully, I decline. I doubt I would have much use for a club membership, for I have no intention of remaining in the city.’ Nor would he be particularly welcome there, should his plans come to fruition. He would either leave alone a broken man, or scuttle the romantic hopes of the very man who sought to help him.
‘Very well, then. As you wish.’ By the look on his face St Aldric could not decide whether to be angry or disappointed by this latest rejection, probably because he was not used to hearing the word no. ‘But you must dine with me tomorrow night. I insist upon it.’
Insisted, did he? And what did that have to do with Sam’s own desires? He searched for the first available lie. ‘Unfortunately, that will not be possible. I am otherwise engaged. Now, if you will please excuse me?’ Then he made his retreat to find the only person he really wanted to see.
‘Evelyn. We must speak.’ Sam was striding towards her with a grim smile on his face and all the purpose and conviction of the British navy.
Eve felt a flutter of apprehension. It seemed she had been holding her breath for the better part of an hour, waiting for some word from the office. Perhaps she would see the two of them, side by side, shaking hands and revelling in their good fortune. It would be awkward, for a while. But maybe some good would come of the evening and she would feel less guilty for her lapse in the garden.
But the duke was nowhere to be seen. And Sam was using her full name, as he only did when he was angry, or maintaining the same artificial formality that he had been.
‘Sam.’ She turned to him, reminding herself that she must not reach for his hands, or give any of the other familiar gestures that seemed to inflame his passion for her.
He ignored her coldness and held her by the shoulders. Unlike the gentle touches in the garden, his grip was tight, as though he feared she would run from him if he released her. ‘How long have you known?’
There could be no question of what he meant. And it did not seem that the truth had set him free, as the Bible said. He looked more guarded than ever. She looked away, afraid to meet his eyes. Must she feel guilty for this as well? It was the one thing she had been sure of.
Other than her love for Sam, of course. And that had been wrong. Now, she was losing confidence in this decision as well. ‘I have suspected for some time. When St Aldric began spending time with me at the beginning of the Season, he seemed so familiar to me, like an old friend, though I knew I had not met him before. But it was only a suspicion. And then you returned and I knew.’
‘Why did you not come to me with this information? Or did you tell him?’ His voice was as rough as his hands and the words were punctuated by a shake.
‘Sam!’ She pulled away from him. ‘Do not think that our old friendship allows you to treat me so. I did not tell you because I had no proof. You would have thought the idea ridiculous and dismissed it. As for telling St Aldric …’
Now it was his turn to look away. Was he still jealous? Why did he bother to show it now, when it was too late? ‘It was unworthy of me to accuse you. Just now, he was as surprised as I.’
‘I did not mean to keep a secret from either of you. It was only recently that I took my suspicions to Father and more recently still that I convinced him to admit the truth and share the news with you and Michael.’
‘Your fiancé,’ Sam said, looking seriously at her.
‘Your brother,’ she added, wishing that he could be happy about the news.
‘And was the decision to marry in any way tied to this revelation? The timing seems most convenient.’
‘Father agreed to share the information, now that Michael is to be my husband,’ she said. And what difference could that make to anything?
‘Then this marriage—’ Sam gave a broad sweep of his hand ‘—has nothing to do with the depth of your affection for St Aldric.’
Why did he wait until now to care about how she felt about St Aldric? He had not troubled to ask her of this before. Then, he had been set on her accepting the man, ordering her about, as if he had right to. ‘He is as good a man as one could hope for. You told me so yourself. When you know him better, you will like him, as I do.’
‘That is quite impossible, Evie. And you should know the reason why.’
Her patience was at an end. ‘Do not blame me for a separation between the two of you. You made it quite clear that you did not want to marry me. You spoke highly of him. You insisted that I must accept him. I did as you asked. Put aside your petty jealousy and make peace with the results. Now that I have made my decision, the rivalry is over between you.’
‘That’s what you think, is it?’ He was looking at her with a crooked, rather cold smile, as though he was a frustrated schoolmaster with a particularly dense student. ‘Enough of him, then. We will talk no more about it. Tell me more about your feelings for me.’ He had been practically trembling with his, just a few hours before. But the news had changed him. Now he was resolute, guarded and very much in control.
‘My feelings?’ She was not even sure what to call them. How was she to tell him?
His hands turned gentle, settling on the exposed skin between gown and gloves. ‘You said you loved me, tonight, before the announcement.’
‘Before the announcement,’ she repeated. That was more important than the words that came before. ‘What I said then no longer matters,’ she said, pulling free of his hands again.
‘It does to me. Tell me again.’ His voice was low, coaxing and unlike any tone he had used before. She felt it under her skin, burning into her very heart. It was the voice she had longed to hear, from the first moment he had returned. The boy who’d left had finally come back to claim her.
She had to fight to remember why she must not listen to him. ‘I am engaged to St Aldric now.’
‘And you love him?’ Sam tipped his head to the side and gave her the kind of expectant look she was used to, when he wished to wheedle some truth out of her. It made her feel like a little girl again.
Now, of all times, after she had chosen to do the adult thing and put nonsense aside, it was infuriating to be treated as a child. ‘What I feel for St Aldric is none of your business.’
‘But what you feel for me is.’ His fingers tightened on her arm again and she felt herself melt.
‘Let me go.’ The words did not sound very convincing, even to her.
‘I tried,’ he said, in a tired voice. ‘And I was wrong to do so. I find it is not possible.’
‘And yet you agreed to do it, not once, but many times over the last week.’ How many chances had she been expected to give him to declare his feelings? And he had denied them every time.
‘I lied. But you must have known that, for you kept badgering me to change my mind.’ He was smiling now, as though secure in his ability to break her down. He was pulling her closer.
She pulled away, trying to resist him. Did he not understand the sacrifice she had made? And all because he would not admit to
his feelings when he’d had the chance. Then she reminded herself that accepting St Aldric was not a sacrifice. It was a triumph. ‘If you think you can have me now, after a few romantic speeches, you are sorely mistaken, Sam Hastings.’
‘Am I?’ His smile had changed, full of a knowing confidence that both frightened and excited her. ‘Let us see, shall we?’ And with one last tug she was in his arms.
This kiss was different than the others had been and, as she surrendered to it, she wondered if he had an infinite variety of tricks to use on her. Perhaps he did. Everything about this kiss shouted, I know you. I know what you want.
How was that possible, when she was not even sure of it herself? He opened her mouth with his tongue and explored with an innate confidence, claiming each inch of it for himself. When he’d finished, she was breathless, as though her heart had forgotten to beat while she was in his arms.
‘Very well,’ he said, with another confident smile. ‘I will not concern myself with your feelings for any other man. I think we have proved them to be insignificant.’ His finger was tracing along the cord of her neck.
She batted it away. ‘It is too late for this.’
But he paused for only a moment before returning to his teasing. ‘The moon is full, and we are alone,’ he reminded her. ‘And in love. I cannot think of a better time.’
The correct response would be I do not love you. Leave me alone. But it would have been a lie so great that she could not get her lips to form the words. Instead, she repeated, ‘You are a day too late.’
‘As long as we both breathe, there is time,’ he said, pulling her into his arms again. His hands were on her waist, possessively smoothing over the ribs, and he was kissing her again, his lips travelling from her mouth to her shoulder. There was no anger in him, as there had been when he had complained of his inability to master himself. It was no selfish attempt to use her. This was a calculated attempt to arouse her. ‘Come with me, Evie,’ he whispered. ‘To the garden. I want to show you something.’
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