A Family Affair (37 page)

Maybe Rake had been the one who had been right all along, declaring Devlin stupid in his commitment to turn wrong to right by avoiding family life. Could staying away mean Devlin simply continued Conan’s legacy of misery?

He tried to picture himself as a caring father to a little girl who resembled Fanny a lot, and to his surprise it felt good, a wonderful contented feeling that grabbed his heart. Maybe being present as a father, and not only in the making, wouldn’t be so bad.

But what if the Conan part of him emerged?

What if he mistreated his children in the same way his father had done to him?

He tried to picture himself doing some of the least ugly things his father had found pleasure in, and his own immediate revulsion and complete rejection of the idea made him sit straight up in the tub.

My God, how stupid was he?

He would never behave like his father. Not in this lifetime or any other, and finally it dawned on him that Rake had been right all along.

By forcing himself out of his wife’s life, he was only completing the circle of Conan’s madness and keeping himself—and Fanny—miserable for the rest of his life.

Oh, Lord, what had he done?

Chapter 33

Charlton House was a palace of divine beauty, a monument full of good art work. Too bad the wonderful art pieces from all corners of the world didn’t look so well together; there was simply too much of everything in Prinny’s stately home.

Devlin walked through the grand gallery, where paintings from every artist imaginable hung side by side, each looking as though it was trying to outshine its neighbors. In Prinny’s private salon, larger than the hallway of Pendragon, the host presided in a throne-like chair, entertaining his eight guests, all close friends to him.

And among them, to Devlin’s horror, sat a man whom he earlier had claimed as a friend but now was the worst sight imaginable—Lord Graywood.

Devlin went cold, and for a moment he panicked and wanted nothing but to turn around and run from the room. But another part of him wanted to stay and perhaps be able to find a reason, or at least a chance, to throttle the laughing lord who sat in a cozy armchair, chatting away with Rake.

“Ah, Hereford! How nice to see you again,” Prinny said with a delighted smile. Graywood stiffened, which satisfied Devlin immensely, and turned to look at the newcomer as he heard Prinny’s greeting.

“Your Royal Highness,” Devlin murmured, as he bowed politely.

It was an awkward situation, but it was most uncomfortable for Graywood, presumably, as he was the one handling someone else’s wife.

Rake looked silently from one friend to another, and a small frown marred his forehead. The other six guests were standing silent, looking as though they would prefer to leave the room—an impossibility, as it would only infuriate Prinny.

“I heard it was time to congratulate you on your marriage,” Prinny continued, obviously not aware of the tension in the room.

“Thank you,” Devlin said sternly, and before he could stop himself, he continued, “I am the luckiest of men, married to a good woman.”

In the corner of his eye, he could see Graywood shift position, and Devlin had a hard time not to grin wickedly.

“Good, good,” Prinny beamed, before he turned and waved his hand toward the other men sitting around him. “You know the rest? Rake you know, of course, being an old chap of yours.”

Prinny introduced the others to Devlin, who knew them all by name but not personally. They were all laughing too heartily, and he guessed the tension between himself and Graywood was the reason for it.

Rake seemed a little warmer toward him this time, and even rolled his eyes toward the merry men, and Devlin nodded with a faint smile, as he almost felt like getting all merry and joking himself so he wouldn’t have to look into the eyes of the man who had bedded Fanny.

Prinny didn’t introduce Graywood, and Devlin guessed he too knew about the problem between the two former friends and was for once rather subtle about it.

“Why don’t we sit down for dinner?” Prinny ushered, playing the perfect host, as he loved to do during his more private sessions.

Arriving to a dining room just as overly decorated as the gallery and salon, the guests sat down around the massive table. Soon well-functioning servants served the first course, and without any accidents.

“I brought these sausages with me from Germany, and I tell you, friends, they are simply divine. I must have eaten hundreds during my journey, and I am still not tired of them.”

Devlin looked at the large sausage lying on a nest of cabbage on the plate in front of him, and he couldn’t stop the image of what it looked like. He cast an eye at Rake, whose laughing eyes told him his friend saw the likeness too.

“I have come to like these wonderful creations so much, I may even consider starting a traditional national holiday by the name of the sausage.”

All the men laughed politely at Prinny’s joke, and as their host started to eat his sausage, the others also tasted the odd-looking food and, to their surprise and to Prinny’s delight, they all found the sausages very tasty.

The chatter continued as course after course was served, and by the time they finally came to the port and cigars, Devlin thought he would die from restraining himself.

It took all his concentration not to look at Graywood. If ever he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from jumping over the table and hitting the man as hard as he could with his fist. Rake, who sat beside Devlin, probably knew exactly what was going on in Devlin’s mind, because he kept up a steady conversation with the men closest to him and refused to let his friend out of it even once.

Not until the dinner was over did Devlin start to relax. Prinny led the way down the gallery to their carriages, as they would continue the evening at the last grand ball of the Season, and Devlin lingered to allow Graywood a chance to get out of there first.

But he’d relaxed too soon, he realized as he came to the end of the gallery and suddenly found himself alone with Graywood and Prinny. All the others had already gone on, unaware of what was happening behind their backs.

“My friends,” Prinny said gravely, “you two have an issue, and I want you to resolve it.”

Devlin dug his nails into his palms, hoping to keep his head cool. “Why?” he asked, trying to keep this interview short. But unfortunately it seemed Prinny had other ideas, as he turned to Graywood instead of answering Devlin’s question.

“You have been friends with Rake Darling for ages, and as I understood it, have been practically an uncle for the younger ones of the family.”

Graywood must have nodded his agreement, because Prinny continued without waiting for an answer. “You should have kept your distance from them, especially the young woman who also is the wife of a friend of yours.”

“I have kept my distance,” Graywood said solemnly, and for the first time that evening, Devlin looked straight at him.

“Oh, really?” he drawled.

“Yes, really.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Devlin snarled, and Prinny took a step forward.

“There, there,” he soothed, with a nervous laugh. “It’s only a wife. You don’t have to be so aggressive about it.”

“Only a wife?” Devlin shouted, not believing his ears. What an unintelligent thing to say, even for Prinny. “My wife is not ‘only a wife.’ She is
my
wife, and I love her more than anything. She is the one thing in the world that matters to me, so to call her only a wife is a huge understatement.”

Prinny started to look a bit cornered, and Devlin took a step back, so he wouldn’t stand there hovering over the poor royal prince who just wanted to soothe his friend’s feelings.

He opened and closed his mouth, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it.

In the end it was Graywood who ended the uncomfortable silence.

“So why did you leave her?”

Devlin’s gaze left Prinny for Graywood so quickly he almost snapped his neck. “For private reasons, and none of your business, so just leave it.”

“Well, if you listen to the rumors, I would say it is my business.”

“You don’t love her.”

“How do you know I don’t?”

“If you did, you wouldn’t have waited this long to make your move, as you have known her during her entire life. You must have had hundreds of chances to fall in love with her, flirt with her, court her.”

“Maybe I’m not the marrying kind, and this suits me better.”

Devlin growled, a deep guttural sound from some medieval part of him deep inside his fashionable outside, and this time Prinny grabbed his arm and, with one surprisingly strong pull, dragged him back so he wouldn’t stand so close to Graywood.

“Besides,” Graywood continued, “I have another young lady in mind for becoming Lady Graywood, as she’s got a certain part of England in her dowry that I want and the only way for me to get my hands on it is by marrying her.”

“You do?” Prinny asked, interested. “Where might this be?”

“Yorkshire. There is a small slip of land between my estate and the small lake abounding with fish, and I want it, just as my father and grandfather wanted it, and now I finally have it in my power to get it.”

“Why don’t you just buy it?” Prinny asked, without letting go of Devlin’s arm.

“The owners have always refused to sell to us, because of an old family rivalry thing. But now there is only a daughter of the late owner left, and as she is of marriageable age and a widow, I have finally found a way to get the land.”

“Poor girl,” Devlin gritted through his teeth, wanting to hurt Graywood in any way possible, but the other man just shrugged indifferently.

“So?” he said uncaring. “She’ll have to learn to live with it, just as your wife had to find a way to cope with you abandoning her.”

The last insult was too much for Devlin’s restraint, and with a growl of war, he ripped his arm free from Prinny’s grasp and hurled himself at Graywood, punching the poor man hard on the chin.

Prinny shouted for help as he tried to wrench the two fighters apart, but it was a lost cause. This fight was bound to happen sooner or later. Servants and watchmen came running and succeeded in splitting the two combatants, but not before Devlin had a chance to send his fist deep into Graywood’s midriff.

“Put them in my office,” Prinny ordered the servants, and led the way through the hallway, where more servants stood staring, wondering what the commotion was all about.

Rake, who was the only other dinner guest who remained at Charlton House, followed the procession into the spacious room that functioned as the personal office of the Prince Regent.

Devlin and Graywood were placed in armchairs on opposite sides of the room, and the four men were left alone again as the butler closed the large doors. Rake walked over to Graywood and looked at his chin, which was already starting to bruise.

“My, my.” Rake grinned as he looked at the bruised chin. “I have to admit that was one good punch.”

“Enough is enough,” Prinny pleaded. “Now I want you to promise me to behave the next time you two meet each other. This is not the way two gentlemen act when it comes to an argument. If you want to settle this in a more gentlemanly way, you should do what we all do when someone does us wrong. You have to duel.”

“What?” the three gentlemen in the office gasped.

“You have to duel,” Prinny repeated cheerfully.

“You want us dead?” Devlin asked, astounded, as both he and Graywood were excellent shots, and he knew Prinny was aware of it.

“But it’s illegal,” Rake objected.

“I don’t think this can go on without them making up somehow, and I don’t think Hereford ever will forgive Graywood for flirting with his wife, even though it’s such an innocent occurrence, and happens all the time.”

“Innocent occurrence?” Devlin repeated, aghast, staring at his royal friend with disdain. This wasn’t leading to anything good, and Rake changed the subject.

“So where shall the duel take place?”

“I think Green Park will do just fine,” Prinny mused. “My guards will make sure no one comes close enough to see who the contestants are.”

Graywood nodded solemnly, rubbing his sore chin. He seemed to think a duel was a good idea, and Devlin wanted to laugh out loud; he was getting a chance to put a bullet in the bastard’s black heart, and he was going to make his best of it.

It was like the good Lord in the sky had listened to his heart’s prayers and sent him a way to fulfill them.

“Shall we say at dawn?” Rake asked, and Prinny nodded.

“We shall,” he agreed, and turned to each man and bade him a good night before leaving them alone.

Rake immediately ushered Devlin out of the office and into an awaiting carriage that started to roll as soon as they sat down.

The last thing Devlin saw, as the carriage rocked away from Charlton House, was Graywood standing alone on the steps, looking as resolute as Devlin felt.

It dawned on him that he was about to kill a friend. Someone who up until this point had always been a person he relied on, someone he would have turned to in an hour of need.

Graywood should have been with him, not against him, and the darkness of the situation grew on him. Graywood was a good person and not meant to be killed before he had a chance to accomplish anything.

He had goals with his life, a marriage in the future, and maybe one day he too would father his own children.

How easily things had degenerated!

Devlin didn’t want to kill the man, but he couldn’t stand down now. Graywood was, after all, having an affair with his wife, and it wasn’t something Devlin ever could, or would, forgive.

The duel would be carried out, but Devlin knew in his heart he had no choice.

The loser would have to be him.

He would never be able to live with himself if he killed Graywood, and he didn’t think Fanny would forgive him for it, either. And when one honestly thought about it, what did he have left to live for?