Page 59 of The Rakish Duke and His Bride
“And it is evident to me now that you care for your wife, given how worried you are about her. You are nothing like your father—not anymore, Richard,” his uncle continued, his tone the most sincere it had ever been.
“You have grown into a fine young man. Much like William. I am certain he would be proud of you if he were to see you now,” he added.
Richard glanced at the door, as though William himself would stand there, with his warm smile and nod at him, like he always did.
“You must fix the mess you have made,” Richard responded as his eyes returned to his uncle.
Lord Whitwood had no objections to Richard’s statement, and the Duke continued.
“Since you are familiar with using money as a means to achieve what you want, it should not be a problem to do so again. Give Thornton as much as he wants and tell him to write that the rumors are untrue. He should state as clearly and concisely as possible that the Duchess and I are happily married. I do not care what needs to be done or said, but I want that scandal buried as soon as possible.”
“Of course. I will do all that I can to undo the problems I have caused,” Lord Whitwood agreed easily.
Richard nodded and stood up. “Then we are done here. If you would excuse me, I have to handle matters from my side.”
“Richard,” the Earl called out hesitantly, looking a little unsure of what he intended to do next when the Duke turned around to face him.
“I should have trusted in you and your ability to do right by our family. Moving forward, I will do more to support you, rather than undermine your efforts. As family should.”
His words seemed well-intentioned, and Richard wanted to harbor some belief that perhaps, someday, they would grow to rely on each other as family does.
“We will see,” is all he felt comfortable to say at that time.
It seemed to be the right thing to do because Lord Whitwood’s dismayed expression lightened slightly, and he nodded in appreciation then stood up and bowed.
“Goodbye, Your Grace.”
After he left the drawing room, Richard lingered there for a moment, his mind reeling from the conversation he’d had with his uncle.
He had known that there was a lot of pain his father had caused—within and outside the family—and he knew it could burrow and fester, twisting the mind and character. It had happened to him, but for some reason, he had not imagined that his uncle had been saddled with the very same burden.
He could only hope that things would be better for all of them, moving forward.
“Mrs. Silverstone!” He called once he was out of the drawing room, “Arrange for a carriage at once and have Ernest bring me my coat.”
His urgent tone did not escape her, especially when she had to catch up to him as he had already begun to march to the entrance of the castle.
“Your Grace? Where are you going?” she asked breathlessly, beckoning a maid over as she rushed after him.
He spared her a single glance before he stepped outside. “To Bluebird Hall. I have to bring my wife back home.”
ChapterTwenty-Four
Anne giggled as Dash brought her the ball she had thrown, rewarding him with a fond pat before she tossed it again.
“Go on, Dash! Bring me the ball!” she urged excitedly, somehow still as amazed as she had been half an hour ago when they began this game when Dash darted in the direction the ball had flown, already in search of it.
Moments later, he returned with it in his mouth, set it down in front of her, and sat back, wagging his tail happily. Anne let out a squeal and stuck her hand into her pocket to retrieve some treats for him.
“He is so impressive! How on earth did he learn how to do such marvelous tricks?” she asked as she fed him a handful of treats.
Nancy smiled down at her sister, stroking Dash’s fur when he moved closer to her for pats, and explained, “He had a good trainer. Mr. Aldridge was patient with him and always made sure Dash knew he was doing well whenever he performed a trick properly.”
“Oh. He sounds nice.” Anne beamed down at Dash.
Nancy’s smile had dimmed slightly, and she forced out a response, “He is.”
It felt a little selfish, realizing that since she had left Wexford Castle over a week ago, she had barely spared Martin any thought, too busy wallowing in her heartbreak. She could only imagine how horrible he felt to be perceived as the reason she and her husband were not close.
