Page 90 of Never Dare a Duke
He spoke without emotion, too distant, as if he were already beyond her reach. The sweet man from last night was gone. But sheneededto reach him.
“I assume this was why Madeleine was here yesterday?”
He nodded, his smile grim. “She was giving me one last chance to take her to wife. And when I wouldn’t, she told me she was the one who put Walton on the scent of the story. I supposedly ‘owed’ her and her brother, even though Michael and I came to peace long ago.”
She sat on the edge of the desk. “Would you tell me what happened?”
“You didn’t read every lurid detail in theTimes?”
“I would like to hear it from you.”
He pressed his lips together, and for a moment she didn’t think he would answer.
“I was seventeen and so foolish,” he said in a low voice, and he turned again to look out the window as if he relived that time. “It was ten years ago, yet it seems like…forever. I was used to fighting. In fact I rather enjoyed my reputation, and there were few who could intimidate me. Michael was much like I, only he was a boy who took delight in abusing others, whereas I tended to respond—quite willingly—rather than instigate. We got into more than one brawl. In fact, the students tended to congregate when we were together, just to see what would happen. Witnesses, you know,” he said dryly, nodding toward the paper. “I guess I was getting immune to his ‘half-breed’ gibes because he let loose with a particularly vicious slur against my mother.”
She inhaled sharply, knowing how much he loved and respected the duchess.
“So I hit him, several times,” he said broodingly. “And he hit me. I was winning, but I didn’t stop. I was furious, convinced that’s what all the boys wished to say to me.”
“Oh, Chris.” She tried not to tear up, knowing he wouldn’t want her pity, that he was still so angry with himself after all these years.
“And with one last blow, I knocked him down. He hit his head hard on a rock. He never walked again.” He gave her almost a savage glare. “And don’t tell me it was an accident. I knew I had already won, that there was nothing left to prove. But my temper was ungovernable, and in my mind, that was my excuse for fighting.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, glowering at her, daring her to pity him.
“But no one else knew the extent of his injuries.”
At last he sighed. “No. It took several days for the doctors to realize he would never walk again. His father moved him to Scotland, even claimed to be ashamed of his son’s conduct and participation in all the fighting. It made sense to me. Why stay where your friends are only going to stare at you in pity?” His lips twisted with bitterness. “At the time, I didn’t know about my father’s…influence.”
She inhaled on a gasp. “Oh, Chris…when did you find out?”
“Years later. I came across the paperwork and realized what had happened. You have to understand, Abby,” he said earnestly. “My father was such a good man! The only scandalous thing he ever did was to marry my mother, a woman he loved. And after my terrible behavior, he found himself forced to violate every principle he held by paying off the Prestons in secrecy.”
“He made that decision himself,” Abigail said with gentle firmness.
“But I brought him to it. And within the year, he was dead.” His black eyes were stark with grief and regret for only a moment, before he blocked all his emotions. “That’s all he knew of me. He never saw what I became. And now everyone knows what I did and what he was forced to do.”
“Michael didn’t speak against you in the article,” she said calmly. “Elizabeth tells me you’ve become friends.”
Gradually, his tension eased, and he sighed. “We have. Thank God. I visit as often as I can. He gets around well in a wheelchair. And we’ve discussed his move to Scotland, how it turned out for the best. He’s a successful businessman there. He later told me that his family was about to be ruined before he and I fought. A steward had embezzled all of their funds, and his father was too ‘honorable’ to let anyone know.” He sighed. “Michael always says my father saved his family. I try to believe that. And he doesn’t assume I must marry Madeleine. In fact, he sent me a letter, warning that she might cause trouble. I just didn’t anticipate what she’d do.”
She let him think in silence. Casually, she walked back to the door, as if she were leaving him. And then she turned the key in the lock.
He watched her intently as she returned to him.
“You’re thinking too much,” she whispered, putting her hand in his hair, tilting his head back until he looked up at her.
Gently, she kissed his forehead, his nose, his lips, trying not to think that this might be the last time she would touch him. The party was almost over, the ghost mystery solved, and they were all going back to London. She could not continue to see him in private, and she would never move in his circle of Society. This would be their last good memory together—especially when he heard her plan.
He still didn’t touch her, but she noticed that his hands were gripping the arms of his chair.
“Abby, are you trying to distract me with seduction?” he asked hoarsely.
She loved when he said her name so intimately. “Is it working?”
He slid his arms around her, pulled her up until she straddled his lap, her skirts puffing all around them. “Yes,” he breathed, then kissed her hard.
“Just don’t disturb my hair,” she murmured against his lips, “or everyone will know what I’ve been doing.”
