“No,” she answered, the faint shake in her voice notable. “I appreciate your bluntness, George. You are much more perceptive than you used to be, for which I am grateful.”
He frowned, sensing that she meant something he did not understand in the statement. Ruby set her teacup onto the tray and folded her hands in her lap. Clearly she was struggling, and he waited as patiently as he could muster but his curiosity was growing. Inexplicably, he experienced an abrupt current rush through his body, settling in the heart that was beginning to beat faster. He could not explain it, and never would, but suddenly he knew that whatever she had come to say was monumental.
“I have practiced this conversation a hundred times, yet I am still not sure where to begin,” she murmured.
“Usually I would suggest at the beginning, but in this case, I am suspecting the middle, or even the end, may be best.”
Ruby lifted her eyes from her lap after a deep breath. “Yes. Much more perceptive. Very well then, from the end, or the present I suppose. George, I came here to tell you that you have a son. Our son.”
Perceptive he may be, but nothing had prepared him for that. For the second time in a matter of an hour, his mouth dropped open and he was speechless. Truly speechless. Words could not have passed his lips at that moment if his life depended on it.
“I lied to you, about many things. None of it I am proud of and all of it caused me tremendous pain. Under the circumstances, I doubt you wish to hear of my suffering, nor would I expect you to care. I am prepared for you to hate me forever and know that I am destroying whatever kind thoughts you have held for me in your heart. So be it. That price I willingly pay for you to know, finally, that we created someone amazing during our time together. Our son who is now the Duke of Larent. His name is—”
George jumped from his chair, stalked to the window, and stared sightlessly into the garden. If Ruby spoke further, he did not know. The churn of emotions could not penetrate the fogged paralysis in his mind, George too stunned to hear anything. He was not sure whether to cry, collapse, scream, strangle the woman on the sofa behind him, run wildly from the room for the nearest ship to India, or perhaps all of the above in that order. Nothing coherent rose to the surface to overcome the sentence cycling and clanging in his ears.
You have a son.
The one yearning desire he had never been blessed to satisfy was having a child and being a father. Bhrithi had lived no longer than a vapor. He had learned to be content as “uncle” and surrogate father to Nimesh and Sasi and to give his affection to many other children over the years up to and including Alexander. Long ago, he had convinced himself that the desire was behind him. Now he was being told that for twenty-six years he had been a father! The implications of all he had lost slammed into him, grief nearly bringing him to his knees, but anger won the battle and steeled his spine.
“Does he know?” He turned as he spoke and noted her wince at the seething fury in his voice. He did not care. “Does he know about me?”
“He does now. I told him shortly after his fa… after Larent died. He always suspected something was not right and was relieved to learn why. I held nothing back. I told him everything, all my sins. I told him of you, how we met and why, and how I fell in love with you—”
“Don’t say that!” George slapped his palm onto the top of Darcy’s desk, the sound sharp and jarring. “You cannot say that! You do not have the right. Not now! I refuse to listen to your excuses and claims of affection, Ruby. I only want to know how this happened and why you kept it from me. Kept him from me. How could you do that to me? And what do you expect me to do with this information? As if the high and mighty Duke of Larent would want anything to do with a lowly physician from the wilds of India!”
Ruby’s eyes swam with tears, but she lifted her chin and met his irate face with a dignified stare. “You can rail at me all you want, George, and I will not argue one point. But do not cast aspersions of character onto Alexis. He is a remarkable—”
“Alexis? You named him Alexis?”
“Yes. I had to fight for it. ‘George’ was out of the question, obviously, but he never knew why I insisted on Alexis.”
She referred to her husband, naturally, and George heard the tone of dislike. It did not surprise him that their marriage was not a happy one. How could it have been with such a cold man?
She named him Alexis.
As much as he wanted to hate her, it suddenly became too much to sustain. Weakly, he staggered back to the chair, dropped into it, and stared at his clasped hands. Too many thoughts jumbled together so he chose the simplest.
“Tell me,” he whispered.
And she did. She confessed the entire tale of her selfish desires and hunger for power. She revealed how she met the Duke and explained about their secret marriage a month before the Sardar’s birthday celebration, where Larent pointed out the man she was to seduce: a doctor who bore a striking physical resemblance to him.
“It seemed so easy, George. I was honest when I told you that I liked men. I always had, although never taking it to an improper place. Having my husband order me to bed another man sounded like a gift. Men enjoy such freedom and are respected for it. Why shouldn’t I have the same liberty? I had never met a man in my life who would not have gleefully taken me to bed. From before puberty, men had been drawn to me, and I knew that what they wanted was my body. Never had anyone wanted my heart or cared for my feelings. I am not excusing my actions,” she amended when George glanced up with a dubious glare, “but you must admit that it is true. Few men are decent, at least not in the circles I traveled in. I am older now, wiser I hope, and I know not all men are rogues and scoundrels. There are honest gentlemen out there. Sadly, the first one I met was after I belonged to another.”
She spoke sparingly of the months following her desertion of him, saying only that it was the baby growing inside that kept her from madness. Despite his wish to hate her, George was too skilled a diagnostician to ignore the subtle clues that spoke of the heartache she endured. She had told lies, but not about her love for him. He had believed it then and he believed it now.
They had returned to England immediately, she told him. The Duke of Larent proudly squired his pregnant wife to a multitude of Society functions before retiring to their country estate for her lying in. His virility and potency was affirmed to the entire world, doubly so when she birthed a boy.
“Alexis was a perfect baby, George.” The smile and brilliance of her eyes touched George’s heart, and he smiled too. “I could see you in his face instantly. He was the light out of the darkness of my heartache.”
George nodded and that simple gesture spread relief over her face. With a sigh, Ruby continued and talked about their son, details upon details. He could have listened for days, never interrupting, but then she mentioned Alexis’s sister.
“Sister? How did you—?”
The answer was written on her face, but she had promised to tell him everything.
“Larent was not content with one child. I have three children, each of them special and loved with all my soul, although only Alexis was from a man I cared about. The others were chosen for a task, and I refused to allow myself to think otherwise. I received a bit of pleasure, and then, when I was fortunate to conceive, another son and a daughter.”
She boldly held his eyes as she talked of her illicit relations, clearly unapologetic for her actions. I like men. George had dwelt for too long among the less-inhibited Indians to be appalled by her statement or the fact that she had enjoyed her promiscuity. She was absolutely correct that men exploited their carnal freedom, and although George tended to be a moral traditionalist, he was not a saint either. No, he could not condemn her.
“I adored being a mother and Larent, while largely indifferent, was not a bad father.” She drank from her tea, as if needing the strong drink to wash away the memories. “Ours was not a marriage of affection,
but he treated me well and gave me the life I wanted. I enjoyed freedoms few women do. I wished it could have been different. I wished for the life I imagined you and I would have had, but wishing for something that isn’t to be serves no purpose. I am, above all, practical.”
Ruby offered no additional explanations, and George respected that. It was not his place to judge her life, and to be honest, Alexis was all that mattered to him.
I have a son!
“Did you ever consider contacting me?”
“Hundreds of times. But I had no idea where you were, and how could I tell you of Alexis in a letter?” She reached across the low table to clasp George’s slack hand. “George, you must understand there was no way I could take the risk. My guilt has eaten at me, but my loyalty is to Alexis. He is the Duke of Larent and nothing can jeopardize that.”
“Then why are you here, Ruby? Why tell me any of this now if it means nothing? You say not to cast aspersions in one breath then in the next tell me he wants nothing to do with me!”
“You misunderstood me, George. I never said Alexis wants nothing to do with you. He has been anxious to meet you, meet his father, since I told him the truth. I was only stressing that his parentage must remain our secret.”
He didn’t draw his hand away and searched her eyes for the tiniest hint of deception. There was only honesty in the direct gaze staring back at him.
“He is anxious to meet me?”
Ruby smiled at the tightness in his voice. “Yes. He wanted to come with me today, but I felt it best to talk with you alone. Additionally, I can sneak about more easily than the Duke of Larent. When you see him, you will know what I mean. He is a stunning figure of a man. The handsomeness of his father and a considerable dose of his mother’s magnetism make for quite a combination.”
George chuckled at her boasting. “Yes, I imagine so. He resembles me, you say?”
“His eyes are darker, more like mine, as is his hair. He isn’t quite as tall as you and is thicker built. Most see my husband in him, naturally, but I, who knew you both intimately, see that he has your features. For one, he loves to smile and his eyes are animated.”
“Not cold like… him.”
“No, not ever. He is more reserved than you, but humorous and charming. He may inherit those traits from both of us. He has your mouth and smile, a smile that is lovely on its own and enhanced by how it lights his face. That is entirely you, George. And when Alexis is especially enthused or happy, his joy is contagious. I remember that in you, and when I spoke with him this morning and saw that light brighter than ever, I knew it was time to tell you. Alexis insisted anyway.”
“He did?”
She laughed at his almost childlike delight. “Yes, he did. It was all he could do not to speak with you himself last night. He was at Almack’s and recognized you instantly. I am sure your attire tipped him off as well.”
“That’s what I was feeling! I had the strangest sensation of being stared at but could not pinpoint the person.”
“He remained unobtrusive, preferring to watch you.”
George winced, remembering his antics on the dance floor and while socializing, any of which could easily be misconstrued from afar as ridiculousness. Hell, it was ridiculousness up close for that matter, not that George ever cared one whit how people judged him. This was his son, however.
His son!
Ruby laughed, reading the thoughts flickering over his face. “Have no fears. He was impressed by your carefree spirit and admires you for grasping an adventurous life. I have always seen that yearning inside him and know it comes from you. Alas, there are drawbacks to being a duke.”
“Is he happy? Has… this… knowledge upset him?”
“I think you should save your questions for Alexis. Trust me, you will not be disappointed.”
George bowed his head and ran one hand through his hair. “What happens now?”
“We would like you to join us for dinner tomorrow, if that is amenable to you. It will only be the three of us.”
“Yes, of course. I will be there.”
She stood then, George doing the same, and handed him a paper retrieved from her reticule. “Our townhouse in Kensington. Seven o’clock.”
George took the slip automatically, his eyes on her face. For a long while they stared in silence, neither knowing what to say.
“Ruby,” he finally choked through a thick throat. “I am still unbelievably angry at you, yet I also want to say thank you, which makes no sense.”
“I know, George. I am asking for nothing for myself. Hate me forever, forgive me, have compassion or not, it makes no difference as long as you do not blame Alexis. I cannot change the past, and to be honest, I wouldn’t if I could. I can’t give you the little boy you deserved or the legitimate place you should have as Alexis’s father. I am sorry for that. However, I can give you a remarkable young man who can be your friend. We shall see you tomorrow. No, stay here. I can show myself out.” And after a glancing brush of her fingertips across his knuckles, she was gone.
Eventually, George sat back down, but he was still staring blindly at the slip of paper when Darcy entered the dark room an hour later.
“Uncle? Are you in here?”
“Yes, William. I am here.”
“We were worried. Dinner is in an hour and no one knew where you were. Are you well?”
Darcy lit a lamp and carried it to the circle of chairs where George sat slumped. Darcy sat on the seat vacated by Ruby. Was it really only an hour ago? George felt like five minutes and twenty-seven years had passed at the same time.
“What is it? Do you wish to talk, or shall I leave you to your solitude?”
George smiled and lifted his head. “You are a remarkable young man, William. Clearly concerned over my disturbed state and desirous to help yet also respectful of my privacy. Have I told you lately how blessed I feel to have you in my life? How deeply I love you? Good.” He nodded at Darcy’s affirming incline. “Of all the life lessons I have grasped, one is not to be afraid to tell a loved one how you feel.”
He sat back into the chair, the one lamp casting just enough illumination to reveal the confusion and worry etched on Darcy’s face. “I know I have told you that you are everything I would have wished for in a son, that our relationship is all I could have imagined had I a son of my own. It took us a while to get there though, didn’t it? For a long while, I didn’t think you liked me, and even after I knew that was not true, I was unsure we would ever be more than friends. Just being your friend would have sufficed, but I longed for more and am thankful God planned more. No, lad, I haven’t lost my mind. These deep thoughts and apparent rambling sentences have a purpose. Today, I found out something that has rocked me, yes, but my brains aren’t wholly addled. Monumental enough to send me into an introspective spin, however, and I really hate that!”
George laughed, part mirth and part irony. “The point of all this is that I need to prepare myself honestly for what will come of what I learned today. Our relationship gives me hope, you see, that something wonderful can result from the most bizarre of circumstances.”
George inhaled twice in a cleansing manner. “I learned today that I have a son. A twenty-six-year-old son I never knew existed who just happens to be the Duke of Larent.”
For the remainder of the evening, the two men stayed in the library. Dinner was brought, and while eating and sipping wine, George shared the entire tale with his stunned nephew. Darcy helped in a host of ways, partially his serene presence and ability to say nothing while George talked, but also the tidbits of information he knew about the present Duke of Larent. Darcy did not know His Grace well, but he had met him on numerous occasions over the years and heard others talking of him. The conversation calmed George, helping him to form a clearer picture of the man he would meet tomorrow.
After twenty-four hours of what he insi
sted pass as any normal day, meaning a long shift at the hospital, George stood on the lower step before the enormous double doors of the elegant townhouse in Kensington. He had dressed in one of his finest sherwanis, woven silver threads adding a shimmering effect to the black fabric edged with silver and forest green braid. The salwar trousers were fitted more than some, dyed an ashen gray with trim matching that on the sherwani. Jeweled and beaded mojaris completed the exotic ensemble that could easily have been worn by an Indian prince. The pendant gifted to him by Tipu Sultan hung around his neck, the gold chain and roaring enamel tiger the perfect accompaniment. He struck a fine figure, and he knew it.
More than the impression, however, this was who George Darcy was: a man who would forever be Indian as much as possible for an Englishman to be. He was proud of that fact, proud of who he was and what he had accomplished. If his son and he were to have a relationship, whichever direction it evolved, it would be an honest one based on the man he was. Self-assurance was not a façade for George, which was why once the shock of the news wore off somewhere amid talking to William, George accepted this as simply another life event to face.
Thus, with a smile, he mounted the steps and rang the bell. Seconds later, the butler admitted him and escorted to the salon.
First his gaze alit on Ruby, Her Grace, the Duchess of Larent. She sat on a brocade settee looking every inch a duchess: bejeweled and dressed in a dark-purple gown of the latest fashion, her raven hair glossy and coiffed to perfection. She met his eyes, anxiety visible in the tight control she maintained with every feature to present a countenance of tranquility. George grinned and winked, the relaxing effect instantaneous, and then, as he started to lift his eyes away, he noted the oval locket lying on her creamy skin just above the dark crevice between her breasts. His eyes widened and snapped back to her face. Her smile had softened swiftly in the handful of heartbeats that had passed, George answering with a lift of his left brow before finally sweeping his gaze to the tall man standing in the middle of the room.
The Passions of Dr. Darcy Page 43
