Page 58 of Playing the Scoundrel

Chapter Twenty-Six

Henry shifted uncomfortably in his chair, not sure of what time it was. The sun had not yet risen, but he was determined to stay by his father’s side. He’d come to check on him the previous evening, only to find Dr. Grommell present once again, this time to make the old man comfortable, saying it wouldn’t be long now. Father had remained in bed for days, struggling to breathe or even open his eyes, and despite Henry’s previous misgivings, he was determined not to let the man die alone.

Had this been happening months before, Henry was certain he’d be stuck for days on end at a brothel, completely drunk on brandy, and lost in the arms of some woman, celebrating instead of lamenting his father’s passing. But something was different now. Something had brought about a change in him. He no longer desired that life. Indeed, a desire for it didn’t even cross his mind. And that something was Miss Follett.

Emma.

Thinking back, it was impossible to see how it had happened. At first, he had been so intrigued by her nonchalance, by her determined dislike of him, which made the challenge all the more exciting. He had become committed to winning her merely because of the chase. But before he knew it, he was in too deep, completely gone on her with no way out. He had convinced himself of being in love, only to have his heart ripped out by the conniving schemer that she was. He wanted to pretend it didn’t matter, that she hadn’t hurt him, just like he had with every other woman in his life, but the truth of the matter was, falling in love with Emma had changed him. He couldn’t desire to hurt her the way she had hurt him because he had truly grown to care for her wellbeing. He couldn’t desire the same life he’d led, because it didn’t offer him the same fulfillment she did. He had glimpsed a better life, and only wanted more of it now.

Starting with the relationship with his father.

It had never been a positive influence in his life, but Henry didn’t want his father’s life to end with negative ties keeping him in unrest. He just didn’t know how. How to change the ache in his own chest, the desire to have his father’s love, how to dismiss the anger and resentment that had built up over years and years. Similar to the heartbreak he had felt over Emma, he wanted it to be gone.

Father stirred on the bed, but his eyes remained closed, clearly still in pain. With only the light of the single candle on the bedside, Henry leaned forward and took him by the hand, trying to offer any kind of reprieve in his final moments.

The old man slowly turned his head and opened his eyes. “What are you doing here?” Pulling his hand out of reach, he let out a staggered breath. “I want to be left in peace.”

Henry sighed. He’d always been unable to find any peace in this world. “I know, Father. You will be. Soon you’ll be with Edgar again.”

Those words helped alleviate some of the fierce animosity in Henry’s heart. His father was a man, torn by death because of his great capacity to love, but then that love broke him with grief, and he had never learned how to overcome it. Sadly, it had ruined the remainder of his life. And it had impacted the majority of Henry’s life as well.

But if Henry had learned anything in recent months, he learned just as he would not want to live his life carrying the resentment and pain brought on by Emma's misuse of him, he did not want to carry the ache that had haunted him most of his life through the mistreatment of his father. Once the man was gone, there was no finding relief from it, so it was now or never.

Henry opened his mouth to speak, but the swell of emotions in his throat kept him silent. Instead of taking his hand again, Henry just said, “Father?”

Rolling his head to the side, the old man opened his tired eyes.

“I forgive you, Father.” The words wavered, but as hard as they were to get out, they were freeing. “And I’m sorry, for everything.”

Father moaned, closing his eyes and turning his face away.

It was the reaction Henry had anticipated, so he just swallowed and nodded, looking down at his boots in the dark.

“Be better…” his father whispered, and Henry felt the weight of those words. He had not lived up to his potential, he knew that deeply. He needed to be better, especially if he wanted to be a man worthy of a woman like Emma.

“Be a better man than I was.”

Henry's eyes shot up. It wasn't an apology like Henry would have hoped, rather it was an acknowledgement he had never expected. Father was aware of his flaws, but perhaps felt incapable of correcting them. If only Henry had found a way to help him through it better, then maybe neither one of them would have suffered for so long.

“The drawer…” Father pointed to the side table.

Henry turned open the drawer at his side and found the folded documents, wrapped in a red ribbon.

“Your mother made me promise… not to remove you from the will. Everything… all I have is yours.”

Unraveling the ribbon and unfolding the papers, Henry skimmed over its contents, signed and dated shortly after his mother’s death. It had not been altered since. His mother’s persistence may have saved Henry, but his father had kept his word even after her death, and for that, Henry was grateful.

Henry turned back to the bed and leaned against the mattress. “Thank you, Father.”

As he tried to take a breath, he began to gasp for air.

“Edgar!” Father’s voice was a wisp now, the trace of a smile on his lips. “My son, my boy.”

Henry swallowed hard, pressing his lips together. He would reunite with his favorite son in passing, and it was all Henry could hope for him.

Then his cold wrinkled hand covered Henry’s on the bed. Henry looked up, but his father’s eyes were on the ceiling.

When the old man finally stilled, Henry hung his head and wept.

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