Page 90 of His Auctioned Duchess
"Yes, Your Grace. He waits below," the footman confirmed, his voice barely above a whisper. A subtle chill crept into the room, like a draft sneaking through a window jamb, causing the very air itself to feel heavy with anticipation.
Richard, with great care, placed the quill down upon the desk, aligning it neatly beside the ink pot with deliberate precision. Every motion was controlled, deliberate—he left nothing to chance. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and even, betraying none of the uncertainty stirring within him.
"Send him in," he instructed, his words a calm command.
The footman hesitated only a heartbeat before withdrawing. The door closed, leaving the duke alone once more. Richard crossed to the fireplace and stood there, one arm braced against the mantel. The flames licked quietly at the logs, their crackle the only sound in the stillness. His pulse had begun its slow, dangerous drumbeat—a rhythm he remembered well from battlefields and betrayals alike.
When the door opened again, Jasper entered.
He looked nothing like the man he had once been. The careless confidence that had so often marked him was gone; his clothes were worn from travel, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. He removed his hat and held it in both hands, twisting the brim between his fingers. For an instant he seemed to waver on the threshold, as though uncertain he would be allowed to cross.
Richard did not offer him comfort. He turned slightly from the hearth, his voice cold. “You wished to see me.”
Jasper inclined his head, his voice low. “I did. I will not take much of your time.”
“See that you do not.”
The words landed like a blow. Jasper swallowed and took a hesitant step forward. “I came to beg forgiveness,” he said. “Not for myself, perhaps not even for pardon, but for the chance to speak it plain.”
Richard’s expression did not alter. “Forgiveness,” he said softly, “is not a thing you ask for—it is a thing you earn. And you, cousin, have earned nothing but my contempt.”
“I know it.” Jasper’s voice trembled but did not falter. “I have carried that truth every day since the wedding. I betrayed you, Richard. I wronged you beyond measure. I will not deny it now.”
Richard’s hands curled into fists at his sides. The firelight caught along the scar upon his cheek, lending it the look of tempered steel. “You sold your own blood to the sea,” he said, each word sharp. “You left me to die so that you might live better.”
Jasper nodded once, as though accepting the verdict. “I did it out of envy. I saw what you had—your strength, your place, your power—and I despised you for it. I told myself that you had stolen everything I should have had. And Louisa…” His voicebroke. “I thought if you were gone, she might see me. That I might finally be enough.”
Richard’s breath hissed between his teeth. “And what did it profit you?”
“Nothing,” Jasper said hoarsely. “Only shame. Only the knowledge that I destroyed what little good I possessed.”
He moved forward suddenly and fell to his knees upon the rug, his hat tumbling forgotten to the floor. “I do not ask for peace,” he said. “I do not even ask you to believe me. But Louisa—she forgave me, Richard. God knows why, but she did. She said our child must not grow up beneath the shadow of deceit. I have sworn to her I will make myself worthy of that grace.”
The words fell heavily in the quiet. Richard stared down at him, the fury in his chest burning like the fire behind him. “Good for you,” he said at last. “Now leave.”
The old rage, the betrayal, the memory of his hand pulling at Caroline surged through him like blood revived. He had nearly killed this man once. He might yet do so.
But the door opened behind them before the thought could harden into motion.
Caroline stepped inside. She wore no jewels, only a pale gown that softened the lines of her figure. Her gaze swept from Jasper—still kneeling—to Richard’s rigid stance before the fire.Something in her expression shifted as she took in the scene, her eyes widening with understanding.
“Richard?”
Her voice was gentle, but it carried the quiet authority that had grown within her since her arrival at Ashwood. Richard turned, his face hard as granite. “You should not be here.”
“Perhaps,” she said softly, “but I am.”
He would have spoken again, but she lifted a hand. “I heard enough to know why he is here.”
Jasper turned toward her, shame written upon every feature.
Richard's jaw tightened, and his words came out in a low, almost growling tone. "He deserves nothing but ruin," he stated, bitterness lacing each word, indicating the depth of his resentment and unresolved anger.
Caroline paused, letting his words settle in the air before responding. "Perhaps," she conceded, nodding slightly as if to acknowledge the validity of his feelings. "But what then?" she continued gently, her voice thoughtful. "Would that truly bring peace to Louisa? To their child?" she asked, her eyes steady and unwavering, pushing Richard to consider the broader consequences.
Richard's eyes flashed with a mix of emotions, anger, frustration, and confusion warring within him. "Do not speak to me of peace," he said sharply, almost as if the suggestion itself was unbearable.
Caroline held her ground, her expression both firm and loving. "I speak to you of mercy," she replied steadily, her voice calm and filled with an inner strength.
