Page 52 of The Duke of Kisses
“Excellent.” Clare grinned. “See you later, then.”
David inclined his head and left, feeling a bit less enthusiastic than when he’d arrived. He hated that she’d left town and hoped it wasn’t his fault. He’d write to her immediately and eagerly await her response.
As soon as he returned home, his mother intercepted him before he could reach his study. “David, might I have a word?”
He could well imagine what she wished to speak with him about. He’d successfully avoided her all day. And while he’d prefer to continue doing so, he acknowledged that he couldn’t put her off indefinitely. “If you plan to discuss Miss Stoke, I recommend you don’t bother. My decision is firm.”
He continued his path to his study, unsurprised that she followed behind him.
“You barely gave her a chance,” his mother said.
David went to his desk and turned to face her. He lowered himself to perch on the edge and regarded her with a restless glower. “It isn’t about her. I’m sure she’s lovely. However, I met someone before I had the chance to make Miss Stoke’s acquaintance. Fate delivered me a different path, and I’m going to take it.”
“Fate also stole your father.” Her voice was dark and bitter, like the coffee he drank on cold mornings. “Fate is cruel and chaotic. You must make your own choices.”
He gave her a wry stare. “That’s precisely what I’m doing.”
She exhaled in exasperation. “You can’t mean to choose Miss Snowden.”
“I do, and I don’t care what you have to say about the matter.”
“She comes from a working-class family, and her sister was ruined by a viscount.”
David rose from the desk and angrily stalked toward his mother. “Do not slander her.”
The countess lifted her chin. “It’s true. Lord Bothwick ruined her more than a decade ago. He even got her with child.”
The denial died on his tongue. This was more than reason for Clare to have challenged the man to a duel. “None of that matters,” David said, thinking he might want to challenge Bothwick too.
His mother’s gaze flared with outrage. “Of course it matters! You can’t marry someone like that. As if that isn’t bad enough, she is aSnowden.”
David blinked at her, perplexed. “What the hell is that supposed to signify?”
Taking a deep breath, she went to the window and looked outside briefly before turning back to face him. “You know of the footman who abducted your aunt.”
Ice crystallized along his spine. Though they hadn’t spoken of her often—it had been too painful for David’s father and Uncle Walter—David knew of the story about his Aunt Catherine. She’d gone missing with a footman and had later been brought home dead along with a babe. “What does that have to do with Miss Snowden?”
“The footman was her relation.”
The footman who’d supposedly killed his aunt after getting her with child. His father had carried the grief all through his life, as had Walter. Even now, the subject of his sister sent him into the blackest of moods.
David couldn’t imagine someone like the murderous footman being related to Fanny. “How can you possibly know that?”
“The same way I know about her sister’s indiscretion. Lady Bothwick—the dowager viscountess—is a friend of mine. The Duchess of Clare was born Mary Snowden, and her great-uncle was the footman at Huntwell who killed your aunt.”
David felt unsteady, as if the floor had caved in beneath him. “You’re certain?”
“Of course I am. You couldn’t possibly betray our family by marrying her. It’s bad enough you won’t honor the promise you made to your father, but to wed someone fromthatfamily?” She shuddered. “It’s perhaps best he is dead so that he wouldn’t have to suffer such heartache.”
David sank back onto the desk, his body folding under the weight of this terrible revelation. None of this was Fanny’s fault. She’d had nothing to do with any of it. Nor had David. Still, his mother’s words about honor and his father burned his heart and mind.
The touch of his mother’s hand on his arm startled him. He twitched, and she pulled away.
“I’m sorry about this, David, truly. But surely you understand how a future with Miss Snowden is simply impossible.”
He didn’t believe that. He couldn’t. The thought of never seeing her again, of not pursuing what he believed they could share filled him with a sharp pain. Was it worse than the regret and sorrow he felt for betraying his father?
His mother left without saying another word. She’d barely gone before Graham came inside and closed the door behind him. He walked silently to the sideboard. The sound of liquid splashing into a glass reached David’s ears.
