Page 22 of An Earl’s Sacrifice (The Clandestine Sapphire Society #3)
A surprising morning sun filtered through the windows, casting a pale light over the dining hall, but the atmosphere was far from warm. “Did you sleep well?” Lucius asked him.
“This monstrosity you call a castle is abhorrent.” His voice remained pleasant, but the undercurrent of tension thrummed.
Lucius smiled, but humor did not filter through him.
“I disagree. My wife is handling the Keep’s renovation admirably.
But, that is neither here nor there. She and the money involved are my responsibility not yours.
” He nodded at a footman he didn’t recognize who’d set a plate of eggs, kippers, and bacon before him, then waved him from the room.
“I’m more interested in your reasons behind announcing my wife was with child in Northumberland last month when clearly she was not. ”
The duke snapped the newspaper he’d been reading. Not out of anger, though there was a slight tightening about his fingers and mouth that gratified Lucius.
Rathbourne picked up his cup of tea, his gaze flicking over Lucius, then sipped.
With meticulous precision, he set it back down then dabbed his mouth with his serviette.
“It’s a rare thing these days—peace and quiet, without interruptions, don’t you agree?
It allows one to reflect on certain… responsibilities.
” His light tone, almost conversational, contained an edge beneath the calm exterior.
Lucius tensed but said nothing, his jaw tightening.
The duke took another bite, chewing slowly before continuing. “And yet, three years have passed. No heir. No assurances for the future. One might begin to wonder if the terms of the arrangement are… at risk.”
Lucius’s blood boiled at the implication. “The terms,” he said evenly, though his voice held a sharp edge, “are no one’s concern but mine and my wife’s.”
Rathbourne set down his toast and met Lucius’s gaze, his expression calm but calculating. “Your wife is my daughter, and as such, her welfare—and by extension, yours—are concerns of mine, whether you like it or not.”
“And yet, you saw fit to spread a falsehood about her,” Lucius shot back, his voice low with tightly coiled anger. “A lie that could have damaged her reputation had it not been contained.”
“Contained?” The duke raised an eyebrow, his expression faintly amused. “If anything, it brought attention to the matter. A necessary attention, I might add. The future of both our estates depends on vigilance, Pender. On careful stewardship. I trust you see that.”
Lucius leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “What I see, Your Grace, is a man who enjoys interfering where he has no right.”
The duke’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Interfering?” He picked up his tea, swirling it lazily before taking a sip. “Call it what you will, but I’ve lived long enough to know that in matters of legacy, hesitation is costly. Time has a way of… slipping through one’s fingers.”
“What exactly are you implying?” Lucius’s voice was dangerously soft, his knuckles white where they gripped the armrests of his chair. He forced his fingers to loosen, flexing them.
“Implying?” Rathbourne set his cup down with a deliberate clink then lifted a shoulder. “Merely observing. And offering a reminder that those who fail to act—who fail to secure what is rightfully theirs—often find themselves… left behind.”
The room hummed with tension, and Lucius’s chest burned with the effort it took to keep his composure. “A curious observation,” he said at last, his voice icy. “Though I suspect it’s not the only reason for this conversation.”
The duke inclined his head slightly, a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips.
“Perhaps not. Your reputation precedes you, Pender,” the duke said with a condescending turn of his lips.
“The late nights, the imbibing. The debauchery. Well, you are your father’s son.
” He waved out a beringed hand. “But as I said, time waits for no man. I trust you’ll remember that. ”
A chill skittered up Lucius’s spine. Meredith was his wife.
His delectable wife. She no longer belonged to the duke in any legal sense of the word.
He reclined, his mind racing. Rathbourne said much without truly saying anything, yet his words left Lucius with the distinct impression that something was being carefully maneuvered just out of sight.
Whatever game the duke was playing, Lucius knew one thing for certain: it was far from over.
With a deep breath the picture became a little more clear.
This interview had nothing to do with his and Meredith’s marriage and everything to do with something the duke deliberately skirted.
Lucius had a sudden desire to read the actual betrothal agreement the duke and his father had signed nearly twenty years ago.
He loathed acknowledging anything emerging as a truth from Rathbourne, but the man was right about one thing: Lucius had spent the last three years avoiding his wife.
His duty to her. Drinking and cavorting. Not his proudest moment.
“What is that you have?”
The duke’s question jarred Lucius’s attention and he glanced at the ledgers next to his plate.
He’d nearly forgotten them. “Perlsea Keep’s household expenses.
Nothing of import.” He laid his hand atop them as if to make sure they wouldn’t migrate across the expanse of the table within distance of Rathbourne’s prying eyes.
The duke’s reptilian gaze narrowed slightly, but he tapped his lips with his serviette once more. With an incline of his head, he rose from his chair. “I believe I should like to visit the mines today. After a quick visit with my daughter.”
“Of course,” Lucius said and watched as the duke made his exit, hoping Meredith had made it out of the Keep before Rathbourne could locate her, even if it required a ride to the village with Ashcroft. Better yet, Lucius would drive her himself.
Rising from the table, Lucius snatched up the ledgers and slipped out the servants’ entrance and up the back set of stairs, wincing through the twinges still plaguing him.
He went straight to Meredith’s chamber to find the room empty, the bed made, and no sign of her maid, Agnes.
The disappointment that struck his sternum left him momentarily stunned.
He made his way back down the hall to his own room and lowered to a chair before the fire to review the ledgers he still held.