Page 21 of Devoted to the Duke (The St. Clairs 1)

Chapter Eight

Jeremy closed hiseyes for a moment, letting Walmsley’s words sink in. He steeled himself and opened them.

“Can we see him?” he asked.

The doctor nodded. “He’s fading fast. His speech has been affected. I’ll warn you that he may be confused. He may also have difficulty understanding what you say to him. Speak in soothing tones. Don’t mention what’s happened. We don’t want him to panic.”

“Barton, see that Doctor Walmsley has a room nearby,” Cor said, calmly taking charge. She looked to the physician. “Get some rest. I’m sure you were dragged here from your bed. Jeremy and I will stay with my son. We’ll call you if you’re needed.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“If you’ll follow me?” Barton led Walmsley to the room adjacent to the duke’s as Jeremy and Cor entered the bedchamber.

His father lay propped against a few pillows, his normally ruddy face pale as a bedsheet. His sparse hair was plastered to his head. The right side of his face seemed misshapen and his mouth drooped downward on that side. One eye seemed almost swollen shut.

“Uuhhgghh.”

He had no idea what his father tried to say. He uttered the noise again, his desperation obvious. Cor took a seat next to the bed and Jeremy stood behind her. She took her son’s hand in hers and patted the back of it with her other.

“There, there, Stephen,” she said soothingly. “I’m here now. So is Jeremy. We won’t leave. We will stay with you.”

The Duke of Everton groaned. The noise sounded like a wounded animal, one caught in a trap that knew escape was impossible.

“It’s just a setback, Father,” Jeremy said with a confidence he didn’t feel. Instead, trepidation filled him as he stared at the shell of the man he’d known.

“Do you have anything you need to say?” Cor urged.

“Oh-ry. Oh-ry.”

“You’re sorry?” she repeated.

“Uhm.”

“That’s good, Stephen. You have many things to be sorry for. You’ve treated me abominably over the years and all but ignored your three children. It’s good to make amends at the end.”

Jeremy placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it in warning.

Cor looked up at him. “I know what I’m doing. He should be accountable for what he’s done. Maybe he can go to his Maker with a clear conscience.”

Tears streamed down Stephen St. Clair’s face. He shuddered and mumbled something unintelligible again.

“Despite your lack of effort, your children have all turned out well,” Cor continued. “Jeremy will make a fine Duke of Everton. I know you have provided for Luke, as well.” She glanced up. “Luke is to inherit Fairhaven and become Earl of Mayfield. It’s all spelled out in Stephen’s will. He’s also provided an ample dowry for Rachel. I made sure both children would be looked after.”

“Ade ess,” his father said. “A uge ess.”

“You certainly have made a mess,” she chided. “It will be Jeremy who must deal with the repercussions. Thank goodness he has my strength of will and character, as well as the St. Clair charm and intelligence. Your father indulged you too much, Stephen. He never made you answerable for your actions. You behaved your entire life as if you were better than others. True, most dukes do, but you hurt too many others along the way. I hope you see the error of your ways.”

He nodded, his eyes watery. “Orry.”

“I know you are,” Cor said. She lifted her son’s hand and pressed a kiss against it. “Despite your ornery disposition, I have always loved you, my boy. I did then and I do now but I am unhappy that the way you lived your life will affect your heir and our family.”

Drool slid down the duke’s chin. Jeremy whipped out a handkerchief and wiped it away.

His father looked him in the eye. “Ank oo.”

“You’re welcome,” he managed to get out, his throat thick with emotion.

“Rest, Stephen,” Cor said. “We won’t leave you. We will be here by your side when you awaken.” She smoothed her hand over his brow and he closed his eyes.

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