Page 26 of Wedded to the Ruthless Duke

Philip winced. The idea that they were all being backed into a corner because of his mistake to kiss Grace was sickening.

Some mistake. It was better than her kissing another.

This thought kept breaking through, no matter how much he tried to stamp it down and forget it.

All night, she had been on his mind. The way she had curved into him, the feeling of her hips through that over-sized gown she wore, the secrets beneath that dress taunting him.

He supposed it had been inevitable in the end. He was going to be weak, sooner or later, when it came to Grace.

“You have a choice,” Philip said calmly. “If you do not want me to marry your daughter, then I perfectly understand. I am offering my hand as a solution to our problems.”

“Oh, I know.” The Marquess nodded. His manner shifted a little, his gaze firm again in that sallow face. “When it comes to money, you would have enough to support the two of you? I know… your coffers are hardly full, Your Grace.”

Philip shifted, wondering how Lord Garton had heard this when he had worked so hard to keep the nature of his affairs a secret.

“I have enough,” he said with coolness in his tone. “My investments are doing better. I am hardly flush with money, as you might call it, but things are steadily improving. My farming lands in the country as well are producing more and more each year. With care and attention, they’ll be highly profitable again.”

“Good, that is good.” Lord Garton leaned forward, his shoulders slumping. “There is just one thing more I need to know from you, Your Grace.”

“What is that?” Philip asked, now longing to be out of this room that stank of sickness. It was unpleasant, reminding him of the loss of his own parents. His chest ached for the pain that Grace must be going through to see her father wilting in this way.

“Did you know?” Lord Garton asked.

“Know what?”

“Did you know what I did to your father?” Lord Garton’s voice shook. “Is that why you kissed my Grace, to have revenge on me?”

“What are you talking about?” Philip leaned forward, stunned at the words. “What on Earth would I want revenge for?”

“For it is I you should blame for your money problems, Your Grace.” Lord Garton’s voice was quiet, as if he could barely stand to utter the words at all. “I am the man who introduced your father to the gambling table.”

CHAPTER9

Philip felt like ice had been pooled in his veins. He blinked, staring at the man before him.

I should hate him, shouldn’t I?

“You?” Philip managed, pulling at the cravat around his throat in some desperate need to loosen it. “You showed him how to gamble?”

“We ran into each other one night at our club,” Lord Garton said, grimacing and looking very pitiful indeed. “He was looking for a distraction, a rush, some excitement, and I foolishly suggested we go and gamble. He’d never tried it before. To my shame,” he paused, just long enough for a heavy exhale to escape him, “he loved it. As I did. We lost a lot of money together at those tables. We parted with our money to cheats and con men.”

He grunted then cursed, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t blame you for wanting revenge on me for what I had done, but the thought that Grace was part of that revenge…” He paused again, clearly unable to finish the sentence now, for he looked quite sick. He raised a shaky hand and wiped his mouth.

“No.” Philip sat on the edge of his chair, speaking in a rush, determined for the Marquess to understand him. “I knew nothing of this. And it does not matter.”

I cannot hate him, can I? Look at him.

Whatever anger there should have been sizzling in his gut directed at this man was not there. All he felt instead was sorrow and pity. He just wished he could free the man before him both from the physical and emotional pain he was suffering.

“As for blaming yourself for my father’s debts, do not do that.” Philip shook his head. “You may have introduced him to the card table, but only one man continued to go back there, time and time again, to lose it all, everything that we had.” He tried to keep the disdain out of his voice as best as he could. “That was my father.”

I loved him, but forgiving him for what he has put me and Eleanor through is a great task indeed.

“Thank God,” the Marquess mumbled. “I do not think I could have born having another thing added to my list of things I couldn’t forgive myself for. Had it been revenge on Grace, ah, I could not have handled it.” He raised that shaky hand once again and scratched his face.

“You need to rest, My Lord.” Philip stood. “If I have your agreement for the marriage, then I will go and solicit a special license. Lady Grace and I can marry fast, and this whole scandal will be over in a matter of weeks. What do you say?” He extended his hand toward the Marquess.

Slowly, Lord Garton stood. His strength was failing him, but he was plainly dead set on rising to his feet. He outstretched his hand and took hold of Philip’s, shaking it firmly.

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