by Laura Landon
“The Duke of Somerset’s word isn’t worth the ink that it’s written with.”
Willow shook her head. She fought the anger building inside her. How could Blake say that? Didn’t he know what she was giving up to marry Lord Kendrick. She was giving up everything. Including him.
“Why are you saying that?”
“Because it’s true.”
“You can’t know that. You don’t know the Duke of Somerset.”
Blake surprised her with a haunting laugh. “Oh, I know the bastard, alright. He’s my father.”
Chapter 18
“Did His Grace say why he wanted us to call?” Willow’s mother asked as their carriage made its way to Somerset House.
“The note didn’t say. It just asked that we call at two o’clock this afternoon to discuss some important matter.”
Willow sat opposite her parents in the carriage and tried to hide how uncomfortable she was.
“Do you have any idea what this might be about, Willow?” her father asked.
Willow shook her head. “No, Papa. I saw Lord Kendrick last night at Lady Benbrook’s and he didn’t say that his father wanted to meet with us. So, I assume he didn’t know at that time either.”
“I find this strange,” her father said. “I only hope that nothing is wrong.”
“Don’t borrow trouble,” Lady Wyndfield said, patting her husband’s knee.
Willow hoped nothing was wrong either, but she didn’t know how anything could ever be right again after Blake told her that the Duke of Somerset was his father. He was going to do something. She knew he was. Blake would never let her marry the son of the man he hated more than anyone in the world.
Her breath caught and she struggled to catch it.
“Are you all right, Willow?” her mother asked.
“Yes, I just…” She clasped her hands together in her lap. “It’s nothing, Mother. I’m fine.”
Willow turned her head to look out the window. She’d relived Blake’s words and actions over and over in her mind. He’d warned her that she couldn’t trust the Duke of Somerset. That the man no longer owned the estates he’d promised to hand over after her marriage to his son. That he’d already sold them to pay his mounting debts.
“What do you know about the estates you will receive from the Duke of Somerset upon my marriage, Father?”
If Willow hadn’t felt so uneasy about their summons from the Duke of Somerset, the expression on her father’s face would have been humorous.
“How did you discover His Grace agreed to give over his two estates?”
“How I found out doesn’t matter. What do you know about the estates?”
“I know they are not especially large estates, but they both come with prime grazing land that is perfect for raising livestock and crops. If run properly, your brothers will be able to earn a handsome living from them.”
Willow took in a deep breath. Blake had been so sure that the Duke of Somerset couldn’t be trusted to hand over the estates. She needed to know if her father held those same misgivings. “Are you confident that His Grace can be trusted, Father?”
“Why are you asking such a question, Willow? Have you heard something of which I should be aware?”
The carriage slowed, then came to a halt before the Duke of Somerset’s house. A footman rushed forward and opened the carriage door, then put down the step. Lady Wyndfield dismounted first. Willow had a moment alone with her father before they could exit.
“What do you know, Willow?”
“Just be on your guard, Father,” Willow answered before she took the footman’s hand and exited the carriage.
Something was wrong. Willow had no way of knowing what it was, but she trusted Blake and knew he would do everything in his power to prevent her father from being made a fool of by the duke.
She also knew Blake wouldn’t allow her to marry the Marquess of Kendrick. He hated the man who’d let his mother die without lifting a finger to save her. He would never allow her to marry into the Duke of Somerset’s family.
This was the man who’d kicked his nine-year-old son out onto the street and never once bothered about his welfare again. The same man who’d set Madame Boulereau’s shop on fire to stop Willow from having a place to take her designs. And most damning, the man who had sent men to kill Blake because he knew Willow had formed a friendship with him.
The duke of Somerset was pure evil. He didn’t deserve a son as wonderful as Bake. Nor did he deserve a son as good and kind as the Marquess of Kendrick whose word would be terribly maligned if his father truly was the blackguard Blake had made him out to be. But good-hearted or no, Willow knew there was no way on earth she could bring herself to marry Lord Kendrick.
Willow followed her mother across the cobbled courtyard, then entered Somerset House when the butler opened the door.
“His Grace is expecting you, Lord Wyndfield. Lady Wyndfield. Lady Willow,” the butler said when he’d taken her father’s hat and cane. “He’s in the blue room. If you’ll follow me.”
Willow followed her parents, then entered the blue room after they were announced.
The Duke of Somerset sat in a floral wing chair flanked by two matching sofas. His son, the Marquess of Kendrick stood near the fireplace. He rushed to Willow’s side after the butler announced them.
“Come in. Come in.” The Duke of Somerset rose from his chair and pointed to the two sofas placed opposite one another. Willow’s parents sat on one sofa and the Marquess of Kendrick sat beside Willow on the other.
Willow studied His Grace for any sign that something was amiss, but saw nothing that gave her cause to worry.
Before anyone could begin a conversation, the door opened and the butler entered, followed by three maids carrying a tea tray and two large trays of cakes and pastries.
“Would you pour, Lady Willow?” the duke asked.
“Of course.” Willow rose and performed the task. When everyone had at least one pastry and tea, Willow’s mother started the conversation with comments on the weather and what a perfect day it was to get out and enjoy the sunshine. The moment there was a lull, His Grace set his cup and saucer on the table in front of him and turned to Willow’s father.
“I was pleased to get your message informing me that you’d like to meet to discuss some important matters. By all means, Wyndfield. Please, feel free to discuss whatever it is that concerns you.”
Willow’s father looked from Willow to his wife, then back to Willow. “I didn’t send a note, Your Grace. I received a message from you requesting that we come at two o’clock to see you.”
The Duke of Somerset’s expression turned dark. “I sent no note. You must have sent word and forgotten.”
“I assure you—”
Willow’s father’s words halted at a commotion in the hall. All eyes turned to the door.
The Duke of Somerset’s butler opened the door and stepped into the room. Blake followed him. But what everyone focused on wasn’t necessarily the stranger who no one other than Willow recognized, but on the gun the stranger held in his hand.
“What is the meaning of this?” His Grace said, rising to his feet.
It was obvious that the Duke of Somerset didn’t recognize Blake. He hadn’t seen his son since Blake was nine years old. She knew, however, it wouldn’t take long for him to realize who he was facing. The similarities between the two were quite stunning.
Their height and stature were identical. Their bronzed skin was the same, something the duke’s other son didn’t possess. Kendrick’s hair was also a light shade of brown, and straight, where Blake’s hair matched the duke’s nearly black hair that waved at the ends.
But even if none of those features had been similar, it was impossible to miss their dark eyes, or the sharp lines of their cheekbones, or the chiseled angles of their jaws. Or the cleft in the duke’s chin that his son had inherited.
Willow turned her attention to Lord Kendrick and her heart stuttered. His midnight blue
eyes stared at the intruder as if seeing a ghost. He obviously recognized the similarities.
“Who are you?” Lord Kendrick asked.
Blake poked the butler in the back and the butler stammered several incoherent words before he spoke. “Mr. Blake Edison, Your Grace.”
“Who are you?” the Duke bellowed.
“Don’t you recognize me, father?”
“No!” the Duke of Somerset muttered in an unearthly growl. “You’re dead! Dead!”
Blake smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you, Your Grace.”
“Get out! Out!” he yelled, taking a step toward Blake. He stopped, however, when Blake lifted the gun and pointed it at the center of Somerset’s chest.
“No, Blake,” Willow cried out, but Blake ignored her.
“Please, don’t make me use this, Your Grace. Although it would give me great pleasure to put a bullet through your heart, I doubt the ladies would enjoy watching you bleed out your last breath.”
“Damn you,” His Grace hissed through clenched teeth. “What do you want? What are you doing here?”
“I heard you and the Earl of Wyndfield were meeting and that Lord Kendrick would be in attendance as well as Lady Wyndfield and the lovely Lady Willow, and decided it was too perfect a gathering to miss. So, I decided to crash your party.
“This is all your doing, then,” the duke uttered in a vile, hateful voice. “You sent the messages for us to meet.”
“Guilty as charged, Your Grace. I could hardly let you deceive Lord Wyndfield into handing over his lovely daughter’s dowry and getting nothing in return without doing everything in my power to stop you.”
“No! Lies!”
“Not lies. You know it’s the truth.”
Willow watched as Lord Kendrick stepped forward. All color had drained from his face and his hands trembled at his sides.
“Who are you?”
“Do you doubt my claim, Lord Kendrick? I regret that I resemble the man who sired me as much as I do. But there is nothing I can do to alter my appearance or I would have done it. Although I have to say your father did try,” Blake said as he rubbed his jaw.
“No!” His Grace bellowed again.
“You’re my… my… brother?” Lord Kendrick asked.
“Your illegitimate half-brother,” Blake answered, then looked at the Duke of Somerset and shook his head. “You didn’t tell him, Your Grace? You really did intend to pretend that I didn’t exist, didn’t you?”
“You don’t exist! You should have died!”
“Yes, you tried your best to make that happen,” Blake said.
Willow looked at the regret on Blake’s face and knew how much he hurt, knowing that his father hated him enough to kill him and admit it.
Blake turned his head and caught her gaze. The pain in his eyes caused her heart to ache. He turned back to face the duke. “This is the final act of the play, Your Grace. This is where you admit your deceit and accept the consequences.”
“You think you are man enough to destroy me?” The duke took a step toward Blake as if daring him to try.
“I think I am man enough to save Lady Willow. As for you, I don’t have to do anything to destroy you. You have done a masterful job of destroying yourself.”
The Duke of Somerset released a demented laugh. “You’re a fool, Edison. There isn’t a chance in hell that Lord Wyndfield will hand his daughter over to you. The lady is engaged to my son. My legitimate son. Do you think Lord Wyndfield will allow his only daughter to marry a bastard when she can marry my son and become the future Duchess of Somerset?”
Blake took a step toward the Duke of Somerset. “Do you think Lord Wyndfield will allow his only daughter to go through with the marriage to your son when he discovers you have no intention of honoring your part of the marriage contract? When he discovers you no longer own the estates you promised him?”
Willow turned to look at her father. The confusion on his face made it obvious that he didn’t know whether to believe Blake or not. Her world was splitting at the seams in front of her and there was nothing she could do to hold it together.
The Duke of Somerset paced several steps in one direction, then turned and retraced his steps. There was a look of desperation in his eyes. “Don’t believe him, Wyndfield. He’s nothing but a lying bastard.”
“Is he?” her father asked.
“Of course, he is.”
“Do you have the deeds to the estates you promised?” Willow’s father asked.
“Of course I do! How can you doubt me? I am the Duke of Somerset.”
Willow’s father looked from the duke to Blake, then to Willow. She wanted to support Blake. She wanted to tell her father that Blake’s word was gold, but… had his anger dislodged his honor? How could she know?
“Oh, Edison. You are a bigger fool that I thought. A bigger fool even than your mother. The man who sired you may hold a title, but your mother was nothing more than a common whore. Which is exactly what you are, too.”
“I’d watch my words if I were you, Your Grace,” Blake said.
“Or you’ll, what?” The Duke of Somerset laughed. “Kill me? Kill your own father?”
Blake’s gaze turned lethal as he stared at the duke. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure.”
The smile on the Duke of Somerset’s face died. “You’d swing if you killed me.”
“After all you did to me and my mother, don’t you think it would be worth it?” Blake countered.
Without warning the Duke of Somerset turned to face Blake squarely. “Who do you think you are? You’re a nobody. You earn your money by peddling cloth and making gowns for the working class. You don’t deserve to associate with someone as noble as the Earl of Wyndfield’s daughter, let alone think to marry her. What father who valued his daughter would allow you anywhere near her?”
Blake’s reaction was hardly noticeable to anyone who didn’t know him, but Willow saw the hurt the duke’s words had caused. She opened her mouth to argue with what His Grace had just said, but as if Blake knew she would stand up for him, he held up his hand to silence her.
“I may have been born a bastard, but I have not lived my life as one. As you have.”
“How dare you!”
“How dare I what? Tell the truth about you?”
Blake stood taller as he faced down his father. “At least I did not try to kill my flesh and blood like you attempted to kill me. At least I did not ignore a child’s plea for help to save his dying mother and instead throw the child out into the snow. At least I did not stand idly by while the woman you used and abandoned when she told you she was carrying your child suffered a painful death while you refused to even hand over the little coin it would take to ease her pain. Or see that she had a proper burial when she died.”
Willow heard her mother’s gasp, but she did not turn to look at her. She was too intent on focusing on Blake. She wanted to reach out to him, but there was nothing she could do other than hold him in her gaze.
Tears formed in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. His words tore at her heart, yet they didn’t affect the Duke of Somerset in the least.
“Quiet!”
“Why, Your Grace? Are you afraid I might tell the world your greatest sin?” Blake leveled a malicious smile at the duke. “I know all your secrets, you know. And I could destroy you with them.”
The expression on Blake’s face brimmed with lethal hatred while the Duke of Somerset’s face lost all color.
“Get out! Out!” he bellowed.
“Oh, I think not. At least not until the Earl of Wyndfield realizes that you have lied to him and cheated him. Not until he knows that you have every intention of taking Lady Willow’s dowry, but that he will not receive the estates you promised.”
“Quiet! Get out!”
Blake turned his attention to Willow’s father. “You have been used, my lord. His Grace no longer owns the estates he promised to give you upon your daughter’s marriage to his son.”
�
��Father?” the Marquess of Kendrick said, stepping toward his father. “Is this true?”
“Of course it’s not true,” His Grace said, swinging his arm through the air as if he could wipe away Blake’s words. “Lies! All lies. And I’ll prove it. I’ll get the deeds.”
The Duke of Somerset rushed from the room.
“Lord Kendrick,” Blake said. “You might want to see to your father.”
Lord Kendrick’s eyes widened as if he realized the meaning behind Blake’s warning. He rose from his chair and took only a few steps when the door flew open and the Duke of Somerset burst into the room.
“Bastard!” the Duke of Somerset bellowed, then lifted his arm and aimed the gun in his hand at Blake’s chest.
Willow screamed a warning while the Marquess of Kendrick lurched forward to stop his father but he was too far away to reach him.
Willow’s father gathered his wife to him to protect her and shield her from witnessing what was about to happen.
And the Duke of Somerset fired his weapon.
. . .
Blake stared at the barrel of the pistol pointed at him and knew he couldn’t fire his weapon in time to protect himself. Nor was he sure he had it in him to kill his father. As much as he despised the man for everything he’d done to him and to his mother, killing his own father would make Blake no better than the man he detested.
Blake heard Willow scream and turned for one last look at her. Then, he turned back as the Duke of Somerset squeezed the trigger.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the Marquess of Kendrick lunge forward with his arm outstretched. The duke’s arm shifted enough that Blake thought he might escape a bullet striking his heart, but he knew he wouldn’t escape being hit somewhere. Then, he felt the fiery sting as the bullet entered his flesh.
The force of the bullet threw him off balance. He staggered but managed to stay on his feet.
“Blake,” Willow cried out as she rushed to his side. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him steady.
“Get your father out of here,” the Earl of Wyndfield ordered Lord Kendrick. Then he rushed to help Blake to a chair.
Blake watched Lord Kendrick lead his father from the room. The man was broken. He’d failed in his attempt to kill Blake and knew that his game was up. He’d been shown for the cheat that he was. Wyndfield would know that he’d been tricked. The Somerset title would mean nothing in Society from now on.
