Chapter Twenty-Five
Sophie gasped. “What on earth do you mean?”
Devlin felt the burning rage grip him, as it usually did, when he thought of what his grandfather had done. “He may not have murdered them with his own two hands,” he conceded. “But he might as well have.”
“I thought your parents died in a carriage accident?”
“They did.” He seethed inwardly as he remembered the moment he had found out of his grandfather’s perfidy. “But it was an accident my grandfather paid to have arranged.”
“But why?” she asked. “Why would he wish to kill his own son?”
“Oh, he did not intend to kill my father,” Devlin replied. “No, it was myself and my mother he wished to eradicate. You see, at that point, my uncle Charles had passed away, and my father was the old Duke’s heir, which consequently made me eventually destined to inherit.
“Apparently, the old man could not stand the thought of the title being besmirched with unworthy blood. Seems the old Duke felt both my mother’s previous position as a governess and her being of Irish descent were not fitting for a future duchess, nor would I be a fitting future Duke.”
“But that is ridiculous.”
“It is,” he agreed, “but it was enough for him to murder over.”
She inhaled sharply. “What happened?”
For too long, Devlin had kept the events surrounding his parents’ deaths to himself, never having had anyone who would care enough to hear the details. But he had Sophie now, and he wanted her to know. He needed her to. “My grandfather paid someone to tamper with the wheel moorings on our carriage.” He smiled grimly at her. “A miserly fifty pounds to end my mother’s life.”
“Devlin.” Sophie clutched her hand to her chest. “I am so very sorry.”
Staring out into the street, he barely noticed the hawkers and thoroughfare of pedestrians as the carriage passed them by. “The ride into town from our cottage was only but a few miles; however, the road was very rough, with several rickety old bridges. It was just by an odd quirk of fate that on that particular day, instead of accompanying my mother to town as I always did, I begged off, complaining of a stomachache. My father decided to escort her in my place. Their carriage did not even make it past the first bridge; it tumbled into the icy waters and sank to the bottom.”
He made a conscious effort to unclench his fists. Even now, after so many years, the injustice of it all threatened to consume him. “I was told they had been trapped inside as the carriage lodged on the river bed. From all accounts, it was likely they had been knocked unconscious from the impact of hitting the water and would not have suffered greatly. At least, that is what everyone hoped. The driver survived, though he had a severe chill after repeatedly diving under the water in a vain attempt to save them.”
In his head, he knew his grandfather was the one to blame, but in his heart, Devlin couldn’t help but think that if only he’d been there, he might have been able to save his mother. He felt like cursing fate, and not for the first time either. But there was no point in lamenting the past and what may or may not have been, he’d learnt that the hard way over the years.
Devlin shook himself and dragged his thoughts back to the present. He glanced up at Sophie, and suddenly, he didn’t feel so cold or alone. “So, you see, the greatest laugh was actually on my grandfather. Rather than eradicating my mother and me, as had been his intention, he had inadvertently ensured that I would be his heir, much to his bitter hatred.”
“It is hard to grasp that anyone could do such a Machiavellian thing,” Sophie said. “Was he not your guardian after your parents passing?”
“Yes, he was,” Devlin confirmed. “After they died, I was but eleven, and my grandfather found himself in somewhat of a quandary. I was, after all, the only direct male descendant of his, and after myself, the next in line to the dukedom is some distant French cousin. Though Grandfather loathed the very thought of me as his heir, he abhorred the idea of a French relative inheriting the title even more. So I was the lesser of two evils.”
Devlin could still remember when he’d been carted off to Huntington Court to meet with his grandfather for the first time. He’d been hopeful that the old man would be pleased to meet him, but as soon as he’d arrived, Devlin realized how wrong he’d been. “My grandfather made it very plain, upon first laying eyes upon me, exactly what he thought of my low-born, filthy blood, as he called it.”
There was a look of heartache in Sophie’s gaze. “How could he be so cruel to a boy so young and who had just lost his parents?”
“It was not all that bad; barely one month after arriving, I was sent to Eton to board there. It was only over the holidays that I had to return and endure his beatings.” Being sent away to school was the only kind thing the old man had ever done for him.
“He used to beat you?” She sounded so shocked and outraged on his behalf, he couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through him.
“Only until I was fourteen. By then, I was big enough to fight back.” He could still remember the surge of satisfaction he’d felt when he was finally old enough to stand up to his grandfather and see the look of fear and outrage in the man’s eyes. “The fact that he could not punish me physically anymore enraged him, and that was when he let slip that he was responsible for my parents’ deaths. That it was he who had paid someone to tamper with the carriage wheels, and that it was I who should have been the one to die and not my father. That was the day I left Huntington Court, never to return until his death.”
He looked toward Sophie and noticed some tears straying from the corner of her eyes. “Do not be sad,” he said to her as he raised his hand up to her cheek and brushed aside the wayward drops. “It happened well over five and twenty years ago. Besides, I have had my revenge. I am quite content to know that he would be rolling around in his grave at how I turned the fortunes of the title around through my trading enterprises.”
“I cannot believe anyone, let alone your grandfather, could have been so cruel.”
Devlin laughed bitterly. “Can you not? What about me, Sophie? Some say I am exactly like my grandfather.”
“You are nothing like that monster! You could murder no one,” she vehemently declared.
“I very nearly did kill him, when I found out of his treachery.” Devlin could still remember confronting the bitter old man, barely able to restrain himself from the powerful need to pummel him. To wipe the smirk from his evil, twisted face. Sometimes he regretted walking away.
“And who could blame you?” Sophie replied. “The man was a heartless monster, Devlin.”
“And what of forcing you into agreeing to marry me?” He still wasn’t proud of doing such a thing. And though he’d never had qualms over his past dealings before, he found himself feeling unaccountably uncomfortable over having forced Sophie’s hand. “Is that not heartless and cruel?”
Like a headmistress, she glowered fiercely at him. “Stop it at once. You are nothing like your grandfather. Besides, you did not force me into agreeing to marry you.”
Of course he did. She was just too kind hearted to acknowledge it. “I as much forced you into agreeing to my proposal as if I had held a gun to your head.” Though he couldn’t deny that a part of him would do it again in a heartbeat, even with his misgivings.
She threw her hands into the air. “Now you are sounding as melodramatic as my aunt.”
Good Lord, he hoped not. “A worry to be sure.”
“I admit that you dangled a very enticing carrot in my face,” she allowed. “However, you knew of my reasons for not marrying, so I do suppose you thought that I must have a compelling enough reason to agree to your proposal.”
He reached across and pulled her onto his lap once again. He looked into the depths of her emerald eyes and then leaned his forehead against her own. “You do like to see the best in people, do you not?” Thank goodness.
“I do,” she agreed, pulling back and cupping the left side of his face with her gloved hand. “And I am coming to realize you are not the bounder that you seem to like everyone to think you are. I think your devil-may-care attitude is just your way of shutting off your emotions. They’ve only caused you pain since your parents died.”
“You, Sophie, are charmingly naïve.” He twisted his head and kissed the palm of her hand, unable to look into her eyes lest she see how her words moved him. “Though I shall enjoy it while it lasts.”
She pulled back and stared at him, and it took a second for her to react to the sudden stillness of the carriage. “The carriage has stopped.”
“So it has.”
“Well, that means we are back at my home.” She smacked his chest. “Quick, do let me up before anyone sees me on your lap.”
“Too late for that, sister,” Daniel’s voice growled from the now-open carriage door.
“Oh, good gracious,” Sophie moaned. “Not again.” She scrambled off Devlin’s lap as Daniel grabbed a hold of her wrist. “Daniel, let me go!” she demanded as he began pulling her from the carriage. She stumbled slightly as her feet hit the cobblestones, then shook her wrist free from his grip and straightened herself.
“I warned you before not to touch her against her will,” Devlin’s voice rumbled as he alighted behind her. His fist shot out and caught Daniel on the jaw.
“Devlin, stop!” Sophie screamed in shock as her brother flew backward and crumpled to the ground. As far as she knew, no one had ever knocked Daniel out before. With his height and strength, it was her brother who was always the one to deliver the finishing blow.
“What were you thinking?” she demanded of Devlin, who was shaking out his hand, before she rushed over to her fallen brother.
“God, your brother’s got a damn hard head,” he replied. “I think I may have sprained my wrist.”
She leaned over her brother and gently slapped his face. “Your own fault entirely,” she said over her shoulder to Devlin. “There was no need to strike him.”
Devlin scowled darkly. “No one, not even your brother, touches my fiancée without her permission.”
“God save me from overprotective males,” she sang out to the clouds above before returning her attention to softly hitting the sides of Daniel’s face. “Daniel, wake up.” He grumbled slightly, though his eyes remained closed.
“He shall be fine in a minute or two.” Devlin’s face split into a sudden smile. “Though I daresay he will be sporting a hell of a headache.”
She stood and put her hands on her hips. “You are enjoying this, are you not?”
Devlin grinned. “Yes, I rather think I am.”
She tsked in exasperation. “Well, bring him inside then.”
“The man weighs a ton,” he grumbled.
“You should have thought of that before clobbering him,” she said. “Besides, you are of a similar size. I am sure you can manage.”
Devlin walked over and hefted Daniel over his shoulder, exhaling with the effort. She followed him up the stairs, lost in thought. If her brother did not come to accept her engagement to Devlin and soon, surely this was only the start of the many confrontations that would occur between the two men.
She sighed. Whatever was she going to do with the pair of them?