Page 38 of The Duke In My Bed (The Heirs’ Club of Scoundrels #1)

… when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.

An unexpected shiver shook Louisa. Tears clouded her vision, and her breathing slowed and became so shallow that she felt light-headed.

“I’m sorry,” the duke whispered. “I should have remembered.”

“No, it’s all right,” she assured him, unable to keep the quiver out of her voice and hating the overwhelming sorrow that had engulfed her.

“No reason for you to remember,” she said, trying to deny the pain she was feeling.

“It’s been over two years. I’m sure you’ve been to the park many times since that night. ”

“But it’s the first time you’ve been here. I should have been more intuitive and considerate.”

Louisa kept looking at the line of carriages and riders moving along the path, and willed the tears in her eyes to dissipate before rolling down her cheeks. She wanted to cry so badly, her throat ached and her chest heaved, she was determined not to show any outward emotion.

She didn’t want to look at His Grace. She was afraid if she did, she might throw herself into his arms, bury her face into his waistcoat, and cry for the loss of her brother.

And not just for Nathan but for her father and mother, too.

She had such a strong urge to seek the comfort she’d never received from anyone when she heard of Nathan’s death.

She hadn’t been able to cry, because she had to be strong for her sisters.

They needed her support more than she needed a shoulder.

She swallowed past a tight throat. Her whole body hurt from holding back her tears and fighting the grief that threatened to consume her.

The duke must have known what she was going through, because he stayed quietly beside her until she found the strength to say, “I have to admit that with the distraction of the younger girls being with us in the carriage, and worrying about Gwen, I failed to realize it until you said Rotten Row. That’s the lane you were racing down when the accident happened, isn’t it? ”

“Yes. You don’t know how many times I’ve wished we hadn’t raced that night.”

“Probably fewer than the times I’ve wished it, Your Grace.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Did you know there was a young lady in our village waiting for him to settle down and marry her?”

“No, he never mentioned anyone. We didn’t talk about families or our lives outside the club.”

“Inheriting the title never changed my father. We moved into the Wayebury estate, of course, a much larger home with more servants, but Papa never went to London. His health was already failing by the time he assumed the title. Nathan was a quiet, educated young man. For a time, he considered following Papa’s footsteps to become a clergyman, but then Papa became the viscount and he needed Nathan to help him with all there was to learn and oversee—and for a time, he did.

But then Nathan went to London and joined the Heirs’ Club, and he changed. ”

“London has many vices to offer a young man.”

“Especially for one who has suddenly come into wealth and a title, and is eager to enjoy both.”

“Don’t blame him for that, Louisa,” the duke said quietly.

“When Papa died and Nathan became the viscount, I think he tried all the debauchery London had to offer. The power, the lands, the money, the gaming, and women—all of it changed him. He told me he became a different person when he went to London.”

“It might have changed what he did and how he did it, but I’m sure it didn’t change who he was. He was always friendly, fair, and well liked among the other members and the ton.”

“Thank you for telling me that. The lamps that I see lining the road, were they lit that night?”

“They are always lit at dusk and extinguished at dawn,” he said.

“Do you still race with your friends?”

“It’s a young man’s sport,” he said, not really answering her pointed question.

“I was told it was foggy that night.”

“It was.”

Feeling stronger, her eyes drier, her chest lighter, she turned and faced the duke. “Can you tell me about the accident?”

For a moment, he looked at her with such tenderness that she was once again tempted to throw herself into his arms and weep. Instead she set a steady gaze on his piercing green eyes.

“I could tell you, but I’m not sure I should.”

She wasn’t sure either, but she wanted to know something about that night and trusted the duke to tell her only what she needed to know. “Don’t you think I have a right to know more about what happened?”

“You know what happened, Louisa. He died.”

“But not instantly.”

“No.”

“He talked to you.”

“For a short time.”

“Did the carriage overturn, lose a wheel, hit a tree?”

“No one knows for sure. He was in the lead. It was dark, foggy, and misting rain, too. No one saw what happened.”

Louisa could tell it troubled the duke greatly to talk about this, but she pressed forward. “Still you raced.”

“Yes. We all did foolish things whenever we got together. We were way too far into our cups to think rationally, and no one tried to stop us, because they had been drinking all night, too. Hell, they had money wagered on the outcome. I’m not making excuses, just telling the truth.”

“You must have some idea about how the accident happened.”

“We think his wheel ran over a limb or a bottle and it flipped the curricle, throwing him off the seat and into the air.”

She tried to hide it but knew there was a slight tremor in her voice as she asked, “Did he break his bones, his back, or his neck?”

“No, Louisa,” he whispered in anguish. “The physician we took him to said it was internal injuries. He tried, but there was nothing he could do to save Prim.”

Clearly His Grace was tormented to have to talk about this with her. And perhaps in some small way, she felt he deserved that bit of punishment.

“So you did try to get him help.”

His eyes narrowed and his brows knitted together in a frown of disbelief. “Yes, yes, of course. Did you doubt that?”

She wasn’t sure. There was so much uncertainty in her about the duke that she suddenly wanted to weep again. She fought the impulse by biting down on her bottom lip, then closed her eyes and summoned an inner strength.

She didn’t answer his question but asked, “What did Nathan say to you?”

“Not much.”

Louisa understood the duke’s reluctance to revisit that night. He’d given evasive answers to her questions, but she wanted to know more. “How did he convince you to promise him you would marry me when you didn’t want to?”

The duke swept his hat off his head and breathed a heavy sigh. “Damnation, Louisa, don’t make me do this. What he said is not important now.”

“It is to me.” She stepped close to him. “I believe I have a right to know what he said to make you swear an oath.”

“No—no, you don’t.”

She rose up on her toes and raised her voice as she leaned toward him and said, “I do!”

“It was between him and me, and he wouldn’t want you to know.

He was in pain and he needed peace. I gave it to him.

His last thoughts were of you and your sisters.

He wanted like hell to live and to go back to Wayebury so he could take care of you.

His dying thoughts were of you and your sisters, and that’s all I’m ever going to tell you about that night. That’s all you need to know.”

In that moment, she saw that he was filled with pain and guilt about that night, even though he’d told her very little about it.

It seemed so unfair that life had moved on for her, for her sisters, and for the duke—but not for Nathan.

Louisa had an overwhelming feeling of wanting to cry again, and she stiffened.

In a busy park, standing with a duke was not the place to cry.

She also knew it was time to put Nathan’s death and the events surrounding it behind her, because life did go on.

Louisa looked up at the duke and whispered, “Thank you, you’ve told me enough.”