Page 49 of Legacy of Succession

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

NICHOLAS

It doesn’t take me long to get to my father’s other residence. It’s on the other side of the estate. It’s the place he takes the whores, and judging by the noise coming from his bedroom, he’s already at it with one. I swallow down the bile that comes from hearing the screams.

“Tell him I want to speak to him, now,” I growl toward a guard who’s conflicted about what he should do. It’s a case of deciding which devil is worse between my father and me, at the moment. The fact that my fist is inches from breaking his nose forces his hand, and he scuttles up the stairs to interrupt my father’s pleasures. I settle myself into a chair and wait impatiently

“Nicholas.” My father saunters down the stairs in what I suspect is nothing more than a housecoat. “I was in the middle of something rather important. What’s it you want? And what have you done with the girl?”

He walks straight past me and pours himself a glass of red wine from a decanter on the table.

“She's somewhere safe.”

“You’ll have her back at Oakfield Hall by dusk, and I’ll have Doctor Fallen confirm that you’ve treated her honorably. I know your reputation.”

“It’s no different to yours,” I snap back and jump to my feet.

“I think my satisfaction rates are much higher than yours.”

“No, your hospitalization rates are more widely known than mine. There's a difference. Does the whore upstairs know what she’s letting herself in for?”

He smirks.

“Oh, she’s fully aware and looking forward to it.”

“She’s insane.”

He laughs.

“Just say what you’ve come here to say and leave. I’m a busy man.”

“I’ve made my decision. You can end the trials and start making arrangements for the wedding. I’ll be marrying Victoria Hamilton.”

At first, my father doesn’t say anything. He just continues drinking his wine in a cold and calculating way.

“Do you know what I did last night after that stupid girl decided to decorate my hall with her brains? I went out and organized the final task. I want this over, and it won’t be until the tasks are done. Elizabeth Sandford undertook hers a few hours ago and succeeded. We have a nice, new Picasso to hang up on the wall. A stupid private collector was insufficient with his security. She was good. I’ll have to show you the video at some point.” He places his glass down. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck start to rise. I don’t like this one bit. There’s something not right.

“At the time, I couldn’t find Miss Hamilton, no doubt, because she was sitting on your dick somewhere.”

“She’s pure,” I lie through my teeth. I won’t have him disregard her and seek to destroy her this way.

“Yes, about as pure Charles II favorite, Nell Gwynn, was.” He waves his hand toward a stolen painting of the famed courtesan on the wall. “Anyway, it was fortunate that you chose to phone your butler this morning. I’ve had a trace on your phone since the day you got it.”

The blood must drain from my face because my head starts to spin.

“What’ve you done?”

“At this very moment, I suspect that Miss Hamilton is being taken from your mother’s summer house — it’s a good place to go, by the way, and proves you’re as weak as she was. Miss Hamilton will be put in location to steal her painting within the hour.”

I don’t wait to hear anything else from him. I’m out of the room, out of the house, and running across the grounds as fast as I can to the summer house. I leap over the formal gardens, filled with summer blooms and edged with boxed dark green yew. A water fountain has me skidding in a different direction, but, eventually, I burst in through the doors of the summer house.

“Victoria?” I call, but the only answer I get is Reggie, falling to the ground in front of me. “Reggie.” I leap forward and pull him into my arms. He’s holding a wound to his chest.

“I tried.,” he splutters, and blood drips from his mouth. “I’m sorry they took her.”

“Shush,” I urge him and press my hand against what looks like a knife wound in his chest. “I need to get you a doctor.”

“No,” he gurgles. “Too late.”

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