Page 83 of His Runaway Duchess

Clarissa let out an anguished groan. “Don’t say such things! She didn’t deserve you, Edward! She never did.”

She began to pace up and down, muttering under her breath. She didn’t look at him.

He paused, the glass halfway to his lips. “What do you mean? When you say she didn’t deserve me, do you mean Daphne?”

Clarissa shook her head—a short, irritated gesture. “What? No, no. Your mother.”

He set down the glass with a clink.

“I don’t understand,” Edward said, choosing his words carefully. “You said my mother didn’t deserve me. Why? What had she done?”

Clarissa let out a short, mirthless laugh. “Oh, Edward, you have no idea. You know that your mother and I were friends, didn’t you? We were close friends, once. We both wanted the Duke when he came to choose a wife. Both equal in looks and accomplishments, we were. I had more money, but she had a title. And breeding, of course. As if anybody could have any control over that.”

Edward swallowed thickly, a sensation of unease lodging itself in his gut. He generally avoided thinking or speaking of Clarissa’s baby, a child that had died barely after taking its first breath. It was none of his concern, and it upset Clarissa to speak of it. Still, he knew that she had only been married once, and that was to his father. That meant that her previous child was illegitimate.

He cared nothing for that, of course. Clarissa’s business was her own, and it hardly mattered, even if Society felt differently.

“Clarissa, I don’t understand.”

She continued her pacing, shaking her head. “She married him, of course. I begged her not to, but she wouldn’t listen. I warned her. Iwarnedher to stay away. And how was it fair? How was any of it fair? Why did she get to keep her baby,you, when I barely had a chance to hold mine? Not that she would have had much of a life.”

Abruptly, she stopped in front of Edward, pressing his face between her hands. He was too surprised to pull away.

“But for the tiniest twist of fate,youwould have been my real son,” she whispered. “Think of that, Edward. You would have been mine,Iwould have been the rightful Duchess all along, and none of it would have had to happen.”

None of it would have had to happen…

The words went round in round in Edward’s head. The feeling of unease had solidified into a real, jarring worry.

“Clarissa,” he said carefully, “explain what you mean. I don’t understand.”

She released his face abruptly and went back to her pacing. There was a manic energy about her now, something strange in her eyes. The taste of the whiskey was sour in Edward’s mouth. He could still feel the burn in his throat and wished he hadn’t drunk any of it at all. The unease was like an itch in the back of his mind, a warning bell ringing shrilly.

“Clarissa, I must demand an explanation,” he heard himself say, his voice shaking only a little. “You aren’t yourself. What are you talking about? I’ve never heard any of this. I’ve never heard you say that my mother didn’tdeserveme, or my father. I thought you two were friends.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “We were friends until she stole your father from me. She said that we couldremainfriends, that she would help me, that she would find me a suitable match. Well, I didn’t forget. I forget nothing, you see. She stole your father from me, and I stoleyoufromher. And see how well I’ve done! I knew I would be a good mother. Money and titles count for nothing when it comes to raising a child. I raisedyouwell, and I am an even better grandmother. You can ask Alex if you don’t believe me.”

She moved over to the desk, turning her back. The morning light shimmered around her, tracing a glowing outline.

Edward’s heart was pounding faster and faster. He remembered once, as a child, skating on a frozen pond. Halfway across the pond, the ice had begun to crack and shift. Terrified of falling into the frozen water below, he’d skidded across as quickly as he could, flinging himself onto the icy banks in relief. Still, the sensation of shifting ground beneath him, crackling and crunching ominously, had remained with him always.

He felt that now, as if the ground might split open at any moment, depositing him unceremoniously into the icy, deathly, dark water below.

“Clarissa, I don’t understand,” he said, once again. “What are you saying?”

“She never fit in with us,” Clarissa responded. Her back was still turned, her voice small. “I’m sure Daphne is not a bad person, not really. But she never really fit in with us, did she? And Isuppose, when you get down to it, you don’t need her. You and Alex only need me. Your mother, and your grandmother. I love you, and you love me. She only ever got in the way.”

There was a pause between the second to last sentence and the last. This time, Edward didn’t risk asking whether Clarissa meant his mother or Daphne.

“Did you have anything to do with Daphne’s decision to leave?” Edward asked, his voice shaking. “Clarissa! Look at me.”

He hadn’t intended to raise his voice, but even so, it echoed through the quiet study. Clarissa did not turn around. She was staring down at his desk, her head and shoulders bowed.

“I know what I’m doing, Edward,” she answered quietly. “I wish you would trust me more.”

“I would trust you if you would tell me what youmean. What does any of this have to do with me, Daphne, or my mother? I don’t understand. You say you know what you’re doing, but whatareyou doing?”

Clarissa turned around slowly, and Edward took an involuntary step back. Her arms hung at her sides, and she clutched the jade-handled letter opener in her right fist. The blade gleamed silver.

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