You see, Justin—it wasn’t you he was incapable of caring for as such. It was all punishment for my one transgression. The one mistake I made in life and I paid for it forever. But not for one second of my years on earth did I regret that you were born. I only wish I could turn back the time and steal you away. I would have given it all up to raise you in a loving family, far away from George and his heartless ways.
Please don’t make the mistakes I did. Marry your lady. Make her your wife and be proud of the love you share. You may not know it yet, but Carmalina fell in love with you and you started to fall for her.
If I can offer you this one piece of advice as your father, it would be to live the life you want. Don’t let anyone or anything stand in your way. Forget about revenge, forget it all.
Know that while you are a Trentham by birth, you are mine and always have been.
Words cannot express how I wish I’d been able to spare you the nightmare you’ve lived but I can’t take it back. I can’t make any of it right and I take the cowardly way out by telling you like this. You needn’t worry about George anymore. He is not your father and has no control over your destiny.
That is yours and yours alone.
Your loving father,
Oliver Trentham
Justin read the letter three times. And then read it another two. He wasn’t sure how elated he was. Fury on a separate scale to what he’d felt for the last twenty-five years flowed through his veins until it consumed him.
How could no one have told him? How could they let him grow up like that with no one to free him of his nightmare? It could have all been settled with a few honest words. Instead his fath— No. The earl’s pride had locked them all into a badly played out stage drama. His mother was a slut, his father had been cuckolded by his own brother, and he was the product of an insane triangle of lies and betrayal.
Despite all this, he was suddenly, inexplicably happy.
Justin’s mouth curved in a smile and he began to laugh. Tears streamed down his face and dripped from his chin, yet he laughed and laughed. Lionel came in to see what was going on, shook his head sadly and then poured them both a drink.
As soon as Justin decided he behaved like a lunatic long enough, he took the whiskey offered and gulped it in one swallow then held the glass out for another draught.
“How long have you known?” he asked Lionel.
“Since right before your birth.”
“That long, eh?”
“Your uncle, I beg your pardon, your father has been coming every month for thirty years to give me a new letter with orders to destroy the last.”
“Did you?”
Lionel shook his head. “In my warehouse a few blocks away is a box containing all of the letters from Oliver. I shouldn’t have kept them but…”
“I will ask you to send them to my home. I would like to read what my father wrote for all these years.”
“Are you not angry?”
It was a feasible question. He should have been. He should be livid that Oliver had never had the courage to be honest. He wasn’t. He was simply glad that he now knew the truth. He could leave all of his scandalous ways behind him and get on with being happy. He wasn’t the third son of an earl. He was a nobody. He didn’t have to be third in line to an earldom or behave as an earl’s son should. What he did wouldn’t have any affect whatsoever on his extended family.
He was free.
Marry your lady. Justin’s eyes returned to the words again and again.
“When did Oliver leave this letter?” Justin wanted to know if Oliver knew his time was at an end.
“He came yesterday before the masque at the gardens. He was unwell even then.”
He didn’t seem too unwell while he’d laughed and twirled Carmalina around the dance floor.
Justin’s hand stopped midway to his mouth, the amber liquid splashing against the rim. Had it been Oliver’s way of giving his approval? Is that why he’d arrived, made a scene with his mistress and then left just as abruptly? He smiled, gulped down another glass of whiskey, made his excuses and went in search of his bride.
He had fences to mend, groveling and begging to do, and then they could find their very own happy ending
If she would still have him.
* * *
Carmalina paced and paced. She felt that was all she did these days. Nervous pacing, angry pacing; she just couldn’t sit still. For the hundredth time, she placed her ear against the door of Oliver’s bedroom and stopped breathing. There was still no sound. The door was still locked. She’d tried the handle several times, and was quickly running out of patience.
The chiming hall clock signaled six chimes. The sunrise cast an eerie glow over the sitting room she paced. In the land of overcast, coal-hazed skies, the sun would shine on a day of misery, grief and tough decisions.
A rustle of silk came from behind her. Her intuition immediately told her who had walked into the room. As if the shriek of outrage wouldn’t have established it.
“What are you doing here?”
Carmalina turned to find the Earl and Countess of Billington, perfectly groomed and gowned in black, staring at her in horror. Their eyes were devoid of tears and as Carmalina looked closer, they appeared angrier with her presence than grieved that a brother had died.
“I am comforting your son through his loss.”
The countess snorted. “Comfort? Is that what you are calling it now? My son is so depraved he even brought his trollop along to a deathbed sitting.”
“He didn’t bring me. I came once I heard.”
“And now you can leave.”
Carmalina swung her gaze to the Earl of Billington and narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to offer him your shoulder to cry on?”
“I can assure you, my brother was not worth crying over.”
The callousness of his words sparked a storm in her. Carmalina’s fists clenched until she thought her palms would bleed. She wouldn’t mind punching the man in his mightier-than-thou face but she knew it wouldn’t help her situation. The Watch would be summoned and she would probably start her new life aboard a prison ship on her way to the colonies. Not the way she wanted to arrive at her destination and not the first on her list of possible continents to live.
“Any life lost should be mourned. Just because you are a mostro insensibile doesn’t mean the rest of the country needs be.”
“How dare you!” The countess huffed and stamped her foot in outrage.
Carmalina lifted her chin and gave the woman her best royalty impression. In a battle of wills, Carmalina would win.
“Where is Justin? We will settle this. Now.”
“He is in there.” Carmalina gestured to the room at her back and then sat down on the floor in front of the door in a silent protest to say they would not get past her. “He contemplates murder.”
“Who does he think to murder?” the earl asked.
“You,” Carmalina told him.
“He must know there will be no duel now. This changes everything.”
“You’re right. It does.”
Carmalina’s head snapped up so quick, the back of her skull thumped off the hard timbers. How? When? She had been there the whole time.
Justin came through the other door to her side and offered her his hand. “Thank you for guarding me, my love.”
She nodded. It was all she could do. Shock settled in her system at the blinding smile he gave her. A few hours ago he’d rejected her and her love and now he kissed her? Thought and reason fled as warm lips pressed against hers. This kiss was different. There was a promise in the tangling of tongues, more feeling than he’d previously given.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he stared deep into her eyes.
Carmalina wasn’t sure what to believe; she must have fallen asleep and dreamed. This wasn’t the Justin she knew; he was different somehow.
* * *
If Justin had been able to read Carmalina’s mind in that moment, he wo
uld have been as confused as she.
He was a different person. The letter had changed him in so many ways.
When he’d left the offices of Luster, Schutz and Carmichael earlier, he’d paused to view the world with different eyes. Winter approached; he could smell moisture in the air, feel the breeze on his face and in his hair. The little rays of sunshine that pierced the smoky fog seemed brighter than usual, like God smiled down on him and gave his blessing on the turn of events.
Of course he was being fanciful. God would have shuddered in the many moments of betrayal and kept shivering throughout the continuation of the lies, of the cruelty and hate.
Justin now knew where it all stemmed from and he didn’t care. The blame lay entirely at his parents’ lofty feet. Correction. At his mother’s and the earl’s feet. He had to get used to the fact that George was not his father and never would lay claim to that particular title ever again.
He turned to address the man who’d made his life a living hell. “We no longer have to fight a duel for the reasons I challenged you.”
“Thank God you’ve seen some sense,” his mother shrilled.
“That and more,” Justin drawled.
“Where have you been?” Carmalina asked, finding her voice once more.
“I paid a visit to my solicitor. I found out some very interesting news while I was there.”
His mother blanched and looked ready to swoon.
Let her, he thought. The earl was his usual stoic self even in the face of what Justin was about to start.
“The first piece of news I received was in the form of Uncle Oliver’s will. It seems I am to inherit his entire fortune including the house where we now stand. I would advise you to be kind to Carmalina. She has the power to evict you whenever she sees fit.”
“That’s impossible,” George said.
“I assure you, it is possible and she can.”
“But this house was purchased for Oliver with estate funds.”
“Was that your idea, Mother? Or yours?” He turned back to the earl, so many accusations on the end of his tongue. He bit down on them. He wanted to see if the story came out any different from someone else’s mouth.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his mother said. At least her cheeks were no longer ghostly pale. They now flamed. Whether from embarrassment or shame, he was sure to soon find out.
“Would you like to tell me anything, Mother?”
“What are you talking about, Justin? I never know what you are talking about.”
“You?” he asked the earl.
For a moment, Justin actually thought he would confess everything. And then his gaze shuttered in a way the man had perfected and he shook his head.
“Let me fill in some gaps for Carmalina. She is new to our little family and should know what she gets herself into before she accepts my proposal.”
Three gasps. Two of outrage, one of surprise.
“You will not marry that.”
How had he never noticed how old the earl looked or how his commands and protests seemed so hollow, so powerless?
“You don’t have to be there.” Justin turned to Carmalina and dropped to his knee. “Will you marry me, bella?”
An array of emotions passed through her dark eyes, anger and sadness, hurt. He was ashamed that he put it all there but he was more than willing to make it up to her.
“No.”
The last of the emotion in her eyes was steely determination. When she said no, she meant it.
“I’m sorry for what I said before. I was upset. I didn’t know what I was saying.”
“You did. You are incapable of love and it’s all their fault.”
“I was wrong.”
“Do you remember I asked if you were to marry for love or for scandal? You said you didn’t know.”
“I lied,” Justin admitted with a nod.
“You did?”
“I knew I was going to marry you the moment you gave me the gift of your innocence.”
Carmalina blushed and looked over his head to where the earl and countess stood, disbelief written all over their faces.
Justin didn’t give a fig. He had to say it all now, before he lost his nerve or forgot what he’d intended to tell her.
“I will not marry you out of a misplaced sense of honor.”
“You have to know by now, bella, I have no honor. I want you to be my wife. Not for society, not for anyone or anything but you and me. I am a man, asking you, a woman, to be my partner in every way, my companion, my mate.”
Before his very eyes, the confused woman was replaced by a fiery she-devil. “You have honor and compassion. Do not care for what they make you believe.”
“Don’t worry. From now on I won’t be having anything to do with them.”
“You mean you are giving up the scandal?”
“Absulomon.” He borrowed her language. He needed her to understand that part of his life had died with Oliver and would be buried with him.
Justin felt he’d been born again. He had a chance to make a fresh start. They both did.
“You will give it up for me?”
Justin saw the question behind the question. It was a trap, one he could avoid easily. “No. I give it up for me, for us, for our lives, for our children.”
“You can’t be serious.” The countess stepped forward and tried to pull Justin to his feet by the back of his coat.
“You have no say in this, Mother.” He slashed his arm through the air, forcing her to back away.
“I may not but your father does!”
“My father has given his full blessing. He told me to marry my lady because she loves me.”
Two sets of feminine eyes swung to the earl. “How could you?” his mother wailed loudly, dramatically. The way she did everything. He began to see what his father had meant by his comment that she would have been the wrong bride for him. Then again, she was a society matron. She’d been born and bred to live in the ton, to follow their rules, live by their code. Perhaps that was why he’d been drawn to Carmalina. She was the total opposite of what he’d run from.
“I did no such thing.” The earl drew himself up, puffed his chest out and stared back at his wife.
“That’s because you are not my father.”
The countess shrieked and covered her mouth with her hands, tears immediately filling her eyes.
“Don’t bother, Mother. I know the truth.”
“You don’t know anything,” the earl said at the same time his mother cried, “All lies!”
“There is only one thing I need to know. Why didn’t you just tell me and be rid of me from your house?” He directed the question at the earl but his mother answered first.
“You are my son. I would never have turned you away.”
“Yet you didn’t want me. Neither of you did.”
“And why would I?” George said, his arms in the air.
“George,” his mother warned.
“No,” he roared, “it’s about time the boy knew what kind of father Oliver would have made.”
Justin actually flinched when his fath—when the earl raised his voice. He’d barely heard the man yell before, not in anger, not like this. He’d yelled for a horse to fly faster; he’d yelled for the butler. Never had he yelled at Justin before yesterday.
“I’m waiting.” Justin crossed his arms over his chest, stood firm, anxious to be rid of these people from his new home. He was aware of his father—of Oliver—resting peacefully while they hurled insults and accusations in the adjoining room.
“Do you have any idea how it feels to be betrayed by those you thought were your family?”
“As a matter of fact I do,” Justin replied to the rhetorical question.
“Not like that. When I found out your mother carried you, I prayed for a miracle. I prayed that she would lose the baby so things could go back to the way they were.”
“How could you?” Carmalina interjected. “You are a bast
ardo.”
“I believe you should look to your lover with that description.” Once again the earl was back to his impassive mask. It had to be a mask. Surely a man with as much hurt inside as he couldn’t keep it all locked up tight.
“I would rather be a bastard than any son of yours.” He knew he shouldn’t rise to matching insults but to Justin the words were only the truth. A truth that was now out in the open.
“You get your wish,” the earl replied.
“You still didn’t answer my question. Why did you have to do this to us?”
“My baby brother. Always the shining star of the family. Always the most precious one. Everything he set out to get, I beat him to it but did I get a clap on the back? A special dinner in my honor? No. I got the look that says that’s what’s expected of you, the future Earl of Billington. I had to take my brother down a notch on the heavenly deities list. I had to make sure he knew who led our family.”
“How did it feel to never measure up?” Justin asked. He didn’t expect an answer. It was the way he’d felt every day under the earl’s roof. As if he would never be good enough for anything, for anyone.
“I believe the time has come for you to leave.” Carmalina stood and clapped her hands together twice.
“We haven’t viewed the body.”
She screwed her nose up. “Distasteful if you ask me.”
“You will not see my father’s body today or any other day,” Justin told them.
“We are family. It is the way of our world.” The tears in his mother’s eyes were more false than any he’d ever seen before. And he’d seen a lot.
“You are no longer my family.”
“I want to make peace,” said the earl, surprising everyone.
“Not today.” Justin didn’t believe him. “If there is peace to be had, you don’t deserve it. I hope you think about what you’ve done, what you could have and should have done, for the rest of your days.”
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