by Bobbi Smith
"Hello, Father," Avery replied with cool correctness, showing no embarrassment at being found sitting so brazenly at Edward's desk. He leisurely dropped his feet back to the floor, set his tumbler of whiskey on the desktop, then slowly stood up to acknowledge his presence.
"To what do I owe the honor of your presence? Dare I hope that you've missed us?" His words were a bit taunting.
"Of course I missed you, and Catherine and Alexander, too. Is the boy around, by the way? I'd half expected him to come in with you."
"He's upstairs getting ready for dinner. Would you care to join us and stay the night?"
"Unfortunately, I have important business in London that requires me to return this very evening," Avery lied as he circled the desk to stand before it, allowing his father to take the chair that was rightfully his.
"I see," the duke replied. "Shall I call Alexander down so you can have at least a short visit?"
"I'm afraid there's not even time for that. I came because I need to talk to you."
"Oh?" Edward watched his son from beneath hooded eyes.
"Yes," he went on eagerly, "I'm sure you know by now that I'm making every effort to change in the ways you suggested the last time we talked." He paused, hoping to hear an affirmative answer from his father.
The duke did not respond right away, but just pinned him with an emotionless gaze. His thoughts were centered on trying to understand how he and his beloved, gentle-spirited Rebecca could have produced such an accomplished liar. "Go on."
"Well, I have In fact, I was meeting with some associates just a few days ago discussing various business ventures, and they offered me an excellent opportunity. All I need is enough money to make an initial investment, and they guarantee me that the return will be tremendous. I should be able to pay you back the principal in a matter of just a few years, and then Vivienne and I would be completely independent—" Avery explained smoothly, trying to convince his father to give him the funds he needed to "invest." It did not bother him that every word out of his mouth was a lie. All that was important was his goal—getting the money. Period.
"You'd be independent now if you managed your income correctly," Edward pointed out with maddening logic, interrupting him.
"But this is different. This is the chance I've been waiting for to prove to you that I really have changed my ways. I promise you that I'll . . ."
"Promises! Eternal promises! That's all you ever give me. In all these years, I have yet to see you deliver anything of substance!"
"But—" Avery started to protest.
"Enough!" Edward cut him off. "I've heard enough! The only way you're going to get any more money out of me is to prove to me that you can make something of yourself. You have the ability. You have the intelligence. Use it!"
"That's exactly what I'm trying to do right now," Avery answered tightly.
"I'm not giving you any more handouts. If you can show me over the next twelve months that you are capable of handling your financial situation with maturity and common sense, we'll talk again. Until then, consider this conversation over."
Avery couldn't believe that his father was turning him down when the story he and Vivienne had concocted to get the money out of him sounded so good. A sense of panic gripped him. Their gambling debts were huge and long overdue. They had to pay up. So great was his fury in the face of his father's refusal that his control shattered. Instead of casually leading into Vivienne's plan concerning Alexander, he erupted without thinking. "Why, you pompous old fool!" he shouted. "You sit in your mansion counting your fortune while Vivienne and I are living a nearly destitute existence!"
Avery's ugly words only reinforced what Edward had known all along. He went completely still, his features hardening into a mask of stone. "You are hardly destitute," he ground out. "What you need is backbone! Try earning your way for once in your life, Avery. Take responsibility for yourself and your family. It might make a man out of you!"
"Perhaps you're right." Avery immediately cooled, realizing he was getting himself nowhere. Drawing upon Vivienne's plan to bring his father around, he went on. "Maybe it is time I provided for my family. Maybe it is time for me to make a stable home for Alexander so Vivienne and I can raise him ourselves—far away from here."
Edward knew a threat when he heard one, and he bristled. "Alexander stays with me."
"He's our son," Avery countered, pleased that he'd gotten just the reaction Vivienne had said he would. "He belongs with his parents."
"It's a shame you didn't think of that a few years ago when you were neglecting him so badly."
"Things have changed. As you said, to prove my maturity to you I should take full responsibility for my family. We want him back now."
"You try to take the boy away from me, and I'll send for my lawyer the same day! When I'm done with you, my only son will be dead. Do you understand me?!" he thundered, unable to bear the thought of Alexander living with Avery and Vivienne.
Avery had seen his father angry on many occasions, but never before had he witnessed a cold, deadly rage like this. Nor had the full strength of his forceful personality ever been directed at him this way before. It cowed him, and he backed down. "I'm sure something can be worked out . . ."
"The only thing that can be worked out is for you to take your leave! Get out of my sight! If you ever come back here again with such outrageous demands, you'll find my threat to strike you from my will was not an idle one. Do you understand me?!"
"Yes, I understand." Avery turned and headed for the door. As he reached it and put his hand on the knob, his father spoke again.
"And Avery, do not try to see the child as you leave. Just go."
Avery said nothing, but quit the room and shut the door tightly behind him. He was relieved to find that the hall was empty, and he leaned back weakly against the closed portal to think. As he stood there, his expression altered from fear to devious determination. Vivienne had been right all along. Alexander was his father's weak spot, and since negotiation didn't work, it would take a more direct action to convince the duke of the error of his tight-fisted ways. Pushing away from the door, Avery straightened his jacket and started from the house. He had much to plan and very little time to do it.
Chapter Two
Edward stood beside the bed, gazing down at Alexander as he lay curled on his side, sound asleep, his toy boat clutched tightly in his hand. The regular cadence of the child's breathing sounded so peaceful that he smiled. The more troubled and ugly the world became, the more the innocence of children shone like a beacon of goodness in the pitch darkness of night.
Edward sighed heavily as he watched the boy sleep, and he marveled again at his beauty—the full, dark sweep of his lashes against soft, rosy cheeks and the cap of tousled ebony curls that framed his childish features. He tried to imagine what he was going to look like when he came of age. Physically, Alexander was definitely a Wakefield, from the color of his hair and eyes to his promise of height, but any other resemblance to his father ended there. As a child, Avery had never shown any of the intelligent inquisitiveness Alexander did, nor had he ever displayed any act of kindness. Avery had always been self-centered and vain, thinking of his own pleasures first and unable to take any kind of constructive criticism. In contrast, Alexander was outgoing and gentle, with a strong sense of goodness. The boy had a real zest for life and learning, and Edward wanted to make sure he stayed that way.
Edward was annoyed to find his corrupt son slipping into his thoughts. He didn't want to dwell on Avery. He and Rebecca had done their very best by him, only to be rewarded by his displaying one failure of character after another. Edward decided then and there that he would no longer be a party to supporting his moral bankruptcy. Avery had grown into a scoundrel of the first order, and he saw little hope that he would ever change. From now on, Edward was going to concentrate only on making Alexander's childhood a happy, carefree one, and he would go to any lengths to achieve that goal. He would raise his grandson to
take his place as the duke. He would entrust the duchy to the boy, for he knew Alexander would cherish the title as much as he did.
Warmed by the thought, Edward turned away from the bed to adjust the lamp on the dresser. He did not turn it down completely, but left it burning at a low, golden glow so that it provided just enough light to calm the boy should he awaken during the night and be frightened. After a last glance at his grandson to make sure he was still sleeping peacefully, he quietly left the room and closed the door behind him.
Avery was angry as he made the ride to London, and he covered the distance quickly. He was glad to find that Vivienne was still at their townhouse awaiting his return, for he was eager to seek her counsel about what course to take next. She had predicted his father's furious reaction, and he needed reassurance that he'd done the right thing.
Vivienne met him at the door. She searched his face for some clue to the outcome of his visit with his father and saw all she needed to know in the disgusted look there.
"You were right about Alexander being his weakness, but you didn't take into consideration that he would be angry if we wanted to take the boy back."
"He was angry?"
"Livid," Avery confirmed as he strode into the dining room and helped himself to a tumbler of whiskey from the crystal decanter at the bar.
"What did he say?"
"He said if we ever threatened to take the boy away from him again, he was going to strike me from his will completely; and this time, dear wife, there was no doubt that he meant it."
"Damn! We have to do something. It's ridiculous that we are reduced to living this way. You're the future duke! Why must we grovel before him for every pound? We have to do something!"
"I agree with you, but what?"
Vivienne's eyes narrowed to pinpoints of savagery as she told him of her insidious plan. "We'll get rid of the boy. Your father wouldn't dare disown you if Alexander were gone. He'd have no other heir but you."
"Get rid of him? How?"
She elaborated on her scheme. "We'll arrange a kidnapping. That way we can not only rid ourselves of the brat, but we can also collect a tidy reward."
"You want to kill him!?"
Vivienne shrugged. "Frankly, I'd rather see your father dead, but there's no way we can manage that. He's too well protected. There's always someone near him. The boy, on the other hand, doesn't mean a thing to me. I don't care what happens to him, really. He's caused me nothing but trouble from the day he was conceived." She thought of how she'd had to curtail her traveling and other pleasures during the months of her confinement just so she could give birth to a baby she hadn't wanted. The concept of motherhood had been as foreign to her as fatherhood had been to Avery. The only natural instinct she possessed was survival! "What do you think?"
Avery pondered her suggestion and knew it was a good one. As much as his father despised him, Avery knew he wouldn't allow the duchy to fall into the hands of anyone else. With Alexander out of the way, there would be no competition for the title. It would be his. He was certain his father would never make the connection between him and his son's "disappearance." It seemed perfect.
"It's dangerous . . . outrageous even, but it will work," Avery agreed. "I believe you just might have outdone yourself this time."
"Thank you, darling."
"Now, what do you want me to do . . .?"
She quickly laid out her plan in detail.
"It's settled then." Avery said once he understood exactly what she wanted.
"It's settled. How soon do you think you can you arrange it?"
"I'll make some very discreet inquiries around town tomorrow and hire the men. After that, it will just be a matter of picking the best time to set it into motion."
"We can't wait too much longer, dear. Remember that." Vivienne went to her husband and, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressed herself against him and gave him a deep kiss. She was pleased that he was eagerly going along with her plot, and she meant to reward him fully that night.
Ever her sensual slave, Avery responded immediately to her nearness. "Don't worry, my love. By this time next week, we'll have enough money to get us through, and then the rest will follow in good time."
"I've always wanted to be rich, Avery. Really rich . . ." She began to caress him.
All thoughts of the kidnapping fled Avery's mind as he gave himself over to her practiced touch.
Edward was sitting at his desk, his mood troubled. Though he wanted to believe that Avery's threat to take Alexander away was an idle one, the more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. He knew the kind of man his son was, and he didn't trust him one bit.
"Father?" Clad in her nightgown and demure wrapper, her golden hair brushed out and falling around her shoulders in a shimmering cascade, Catherine stood in the doorway of Edward's study, waiting for him to bid her to join him. He'd seemed distant during dinner, and she'd worried that something very ugly had transpired with Avery. She'd waited until she was sure Alex was abed before coming to see if he wanted to talk about it.
At the sound of Catherine's voice, Edward looked up to find her watching him from across the room, her expression tentative. "Yes, Catherine. What is it?"
"I was just wondering . . ." She moved into the room to stand before him. "We never did talk about Avery's visit this afternoon."
Edward grunted in agreement as he waved her into a chair. "No, we didn't, did we?"
She heard the slight edge of bitterness in his voice and knew then that something serious had taken place between them. "What happened?"
"Nothing unusual, really," he began. "I just informed your brother that he'd get no more money out of me unless he changed."
"I take it that bit of news didn't sit well with him?"
"He made a threat . . ."
"What kind of threat?" Catherine asked, her blue-green eyes widening at the thought of her brother being stupid enough to risk their father's ire.
"He was going to try to take Alexander from me."
"What?! But they never wanted him before . . ."
He held up a hand to slow her. "And they don't really want him now. I'm sure it was all just a ploy to force my hand, but I refused to take the bait."
"Thank heaven. I'd worry about Alex constantly if he was forced to go back and live with them."
"It will never happen. I'll see to it. I countered Avery's threat with a firm threat of my own. If he tries to take Alexander away, he'll pay the price."
Catherine smiled at her father, reassured. "Good. The boy belongs with us. He's happy here."
"And we're going to make sure he stays that way," Edward concluded. He felt a little better now that they'd talked, but an inkling of concern still haunted him. "One thing . . ."
"What?"
"Be extra watchful of Alexander!"
"You think Avery might try something?"
"I'm probably being overly cautious, but . . ."
"Surely they wouldn't . . ." she began, and then stopped. Knowing her brother and his wife as she did, she didn't put anything past them. She shivered at the thought.
"He'll be fine as long as you're with him," he reassured her. "I will only be away for three weeks or so at the very most."
"I'll make it a point to keep him close to the house, just in case."
At her words, he finally allowed himself to relax a bit. "You're a good daughter, Catherine. I hope young Ratcliff appreciates you." Edward's eyes were twinkling as he thought about her fiancé, Lord Gerald Ratcliff, the oldest son of the Earl of Woodley.
"Oh, he does, Father," she replied with a quick smile as she thought of the blond-haired, handsome man who was her betrothed. She'd fallen madly in love with him at their first meeting just a few short months before, and though he had a reputation as a bit of a rakehell, he'd come to return her feelings. He'd asked for her hand right away, pleading that he didn't want to give anyone else a chance to steal her from him, and now plans were already well underway for their fall wedd
ing.
"Good." Edward pushed away from the desk and got to his feet. It had been a long day, and he was bone-weary. The prospect of rising at dawn did not appeal, but he knew he had to leave. His traveling plans were made. He came around the desk and accepted the soft kiss Catherine gave him.
"Good night, Father."
"Good night, my dear. Will I see you in the morning before I leave?"
"Of course. Alex and I both will be up to see you off," she promised, and with that they both retired for the night.
Catherine kept her word. The following morning she and Alex accompanied Edward out to where his entourage of outriders and crested carriages were waiting for him in front of Huntington House. Edward didn't quite understand the emotion he was feeling at that moment, but the same sense of unease that had plagued him the night before was still bothering him. He tried to dismiss it, telling himself he was just a foolish old man as he kissed and hugged his daughter good-bye and then turned to his grandson. But for some reason, it wouldn't be dismissed so easily.
"You'll behave yourself while I'm gone and do as your aunt Catherine says?" Edward asked Alexander in a man-to-man tone. He felt a driving need to scoop the boy up in his arms and hold him close to his heart, but he controlled himself.
"Yes, sir," Alex answered, standing at attention as he faced his grandfather. His lower lip was trembling a bit as he fought to contain the loneliness he was already anticipating in the face of his absence. He knew his grandfather did not like open displays of emotion, so he was determined not to disappoint him.
"Good boy. I'll see you when I get back." Edward patted him on the shoulder, then started down the walk toward his waiting carriage.
As brave as he'd been, Alex was still seven years old, and he couldn't bear to see Edward leave. His resolve not to hug him or cry were suddenly cast aside as he realized that his grandfather really was going. He charged after him, desperately needing a warm hug. "Grandfather! Grandfather! Wait!"
