Page 43 of The Duke of Fire (The Dukes of Desire #1)

“ I heard you did not do as you were ordered, Bernard.” Dominic Carson, Duke of Kensington, growled at his butler.

He ran an impatient hand through his wavy, light brown hair and turned his angry stare toward the window.

Out in the gardens, he could still see the gardener, a man with a name Dominic did not care to remember, still toiling away with the plants.

He was supposed to be given his notice two days ago, and yet…

“Tell me, Bernard,” Dominic snarled, turning his anger-filled, honey-brown eyes to his butler, “Is it because you would rather take his place? For young boys are turning into men every day who need work.”

“N-No, Your Grace,” Bernard said finally, stuttering as he attempted to protect himself from his own failings, “I certainly do not. I am most thankful for this position!”

“A position you have held for over a decade,” Dominic bit back. “Therefore, you are aware of what happens when my commands are not obeyed. So, tell me, Bernard, if you are ‘ most thankful ,’ why is that man still on my property?”

The gardener had committed a cardinal sin on the Kensington Estate, of which there were only three rules to live by: Do your work. Obey your commands. And respect the master’s dog. If any of those rules were violated, even once, Dominic made sure that the lackluster staff was banished.

As if knowing he was being discussed, Peritas, Dominic’s rather large Irish Wolfhound, limped into the room. Dominic’s fury rose afresh as he saw his beloved pet attempt to spare his back left paw as he walked toward him, and he glared back at Bernard, silently demanding an answer.

“I-It was an accident, Your Grace,” Bernard stammered, his gaze pinging from his master to Peritas, “The... the gardener has a family to feed, and I–”

“It was no accident,” Dominic replied, his tone threatening as he ran an affectionate hand over Peritas’ head. “He stomped on his paw on purpose for digging up that ridiculous plant. I saw it myself. Now, get rid of him immediately, or I will have two new positions to fill instead of one.”

His butler, realizing that the argument was a moot point, gave up and bowed.

“Very well, Your Grace,” Bernard replied. “I shall speak with him directly once I collect his remaining wages from Mrs. Ridley.”

Dominic was so wrapped up in his anger that, for a moment, he nearly told Bernard to forget the wages and to garnish them as punishment for Peritas’ slight. However, the beloved dog, the only bringer of joy in Dominic’s life, licked his hand and pawed at his leg, as if telling him to let it go.

“Very well,” Dominic murmured, walking away from the window and his view of his beloved dog’s attacker.

He snapped his fingers, and obediently, Peritas walked with him, following Dominic to his massive, dark oak desk.

As usual, Peritas curled himself into a spot beside Dominic’s feet as he took his seat.

Dominic spared his one kind look of the day down toward the canine, and in return, the beast huffed out a sneeze and whine–as if telling his master that the matter was settled.

Dominic nodded and turned back to Bernard.

“Now that we have settled that bit of bad business, what else is there to discuss this morning?” He asked, picking up his first file.

Dominic’s mind began to wander toward his paperwork, and as Bernard went through the list of news, he began to put part of his concentration into his own duties, nodding occasionally as his butler prattled on with the usual “to-dos” of the estate.

“Wait,” Dominic commanded suddenly, lifting his head from his paperwork.

A name had just been spoken. One he had not heard in quite some time. One that he was sure was said by mistake.

“Your Grace?” Bernard asked.

His grip grew stronger on his fountain pen. Dominic looked up at Bernard from under his brows and asked, “What did you just say?”

Dominic watched with annoyance as Bernard’s face cast a look of apprehension his way, and his stutter returned.

“P-pardon, Your G-grace,” Bernard stumbled anxiously, “I-it is only that there is a bit of gossip regarding the Duchess of Kensington and her health.”

“Is she dying?” Dominic snapped as his grip on his pen produced a crack .

“No, Your Grace,” Bernard answered immediately. “But there is word that–”

“Then I do not care to know about it,” Dominic said through gritted teeth.

“But–”

Feeling his anger from the day grow too strong, Dominic growled, “That is enough, Bernard. Go. Now. Before you receive your notice today along with the gardener’s.”

With a low, silent bow, the butler was gone, leaving Dominic with his work, his anger, and the only creature he loved.

It was a triad he was not comfortable with, and too soon, he snapped his folder shut and threw down his fountain pen, his mind unable to focus on the task at hand.

The moment it hit the folder, the small device cracked and created splotches of thick, black ink on his desk.

“Bloody hell, that’s about right, isn’t it?” Dominic murmured to Peritas, shoving the mess away.

The canine whined as he lifted his head to inspect the mess, then let out a sniff as if he agreed.

“What do you think is wrong with her?” Dominic asked the dog but then changed his mind. “No, I do not care what she does.”

Peritas only put his head back down on his front paws and whined. The pup had never met his mistress, and yet he seemed to look sad anytime his master mentioned her.

“Do not give me that,” Dominic sighed, rubbing his hands over his face as he leaned back in his chair. “Our distance is for her own good. For my own good.”

At least, that was what he had been telling himself since their wedding night five years ago.

Alexandra. She was a beautiful woman. Angelic, even, with her brunette hair, clear, oval face, and piercing blue eyes.

So soft... so small, at least compared to his own stature, which was like that of an oak tree.

Tall. Thick with muscle. Sturdy. It took a lot to chop him down, and when he had met Alexandra, he had known that despite her much smaller size and enchanting looks, it was she who could successfully wield the axe that brought him down.

The wedding had been planned by his uncle and her guardians; an arrangement made to satisfy social standards and perhaps some empty space they both shared.

He, a widower but too young to rest in it, needed to remarry.

And she... well. He supposed she needed a sturdy place to land after being orphaned by her parents and raised by people who wanted her off their hands.

This was not the marriage she had expected, though.

He did not need to converse with her to know that.

Like all other wives, she had expected to live with her husband and have children with him.

After what had happened with his first wife, though, Dominic could not bear to do so.

Instead, he had chosen to leave Alexandra alone in London while he returned to Kensington.

He had disappointed Alexandra greatly when he had done that. He knew he had by the dozens of letters she had sent him in the first year, inquiring with him to come visit her. He had ignored them all, thinking that her desire to be with him would go away, but then, she had persisted.

A whine from Peritas stirred Dominic from his thoughts, and he glanced down at the big brown eyes of his beloved pet. The beast always seemed to know when his master was getting too far into his own head, and he always worked to pull him back out.

“There, now, I am fine,” Dominic sighed, reaching down to pat Peritas’ head.

As if to prove his point, he then opened the top drawer to his desk, where he kept a tin of biscuits at the ready for the massive pup. He lifted it out as to fetch a treat for Peritas, but as he moved the tin and his eyes fell on familiar handwriting, Dominic stilled.

Forgetting the biscuits entirely, Dominic released the tin and reached for the letter. His fingers began to sweat as he picked up the old piece of paper and gently unfolded it, his eyes gravitating to the words he had read an innumerable number of times. A letter written to him by his first wife.

… I beg of you, if not for your love of me but for God’s love toward me as his daughter, annul our marriage and set me free of this torment.

Your uncle’s treatments are most cruel, and though he says he is both my doctor and my family, I feel as if he is truly neither.

Release me of this pain, I implore you, Your Grace…

Suddenly, the double doors of Dominic’s study were thrown open with great force, causing them to bang into the walls as a gravelly, rage-filled voice asked, “What is that? You sit here reading old love letters at a time like this?”

“Who dares enter my study in such a manner!?” Dominic jerked at the onslaught of sudden noise, his hands making the old letter disappear as Peritas stood, hackles raised and growled warningly as Walter Carson stormed over to the massive desk his nephew sat behind.

“Muzzle your mutt before I do it for you,” Walter growled, staring down at the dog with pure hatred.

Quickly recovering from the shock of the interruption, Dominic rose from his seat and put a calming hand on his pet’s head.

“Peritas, at ease,” he commanded in a low voice, and immediately, the beast ceased his growling and sat back down on its hind quarters.

“That is what you get for not knocking,” Dominic replied coolly as he waved his free hand toward the seat opposite him. “You are lucky he did not attack you the moment you blasted those doors open.”

“It is he who is lucky,” Walter snapped back, flinging a newspaper toward Dominic as he took his seat. “That rag goes for me one time, and I will swiftly put it out of its miserable existence with the end of my pistol.”

With dark eyes still full of hate, he turned his glance toward the dog, and his frown deepened.

“God, but you are an ugly, useless thing,” he stated.

Peritas, as if he could understand the mood of his master, growled in challenge.

“Enough! I see you are in a fitting mood,” Dominic sighed, gathering the newspaper thrown at him. “State your business or get out. I will not be so understanding if you keep this up.”

“Well, it is not just your mutt that is an ugly, useless thing,” Walter snarled, steepling his fingers together. “You seem to have a penchant for collecting them.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dominic grumbled, turning his attention toward the paper.

Normally, he would not put up with such ill manners from anyone, but Walter was the exception.

Dominic’s parents, both affluent members of society, had paid little to no attention to their children.

It was Walter who had raised him for the most part.

How to be a man, how to take charge when chaos ensued.

He owed him much, and for that, he entertained the man’s occasional outbursts.

“Page three, second column, third paragraph down,” Walter grit out. “It is the gossip column, but print is print, and hundreds have already seen it. Rumor or not, this little expose will ruin us.”

Dominic cast a glare toward his uncle before going to the suggested section.

As his eyes skimmed the few lines, Alexandra’s name popped as if it were written in red, and suddenly, Dominic was entombed in a variety of intense emotions.

He read the lines over and over again, making sure that he understood them correctly.

Rage, surprise, and jealousy did nothing to protect his shattering ego at the words …

And though the Duke of Kensington has been gone from England going on his fifth year, the Duchess has announced to a small circle of friends that she is with child…

“I told you!” Walter growled as he thumped his hand on the desk as Dominic threw the paper away.

“I told you to keep this one close. To keep her on a short leash, but no, you banished her from your side, and look what she has done! Christ damn you, Dominic, do you have any idea what sort of disaster your kindness has brought to this family?”

A deep, throbbing ache started to form in Dominic’s temple as his uncle’s harsh words clashed with the recent news of his estranged wife’s condition. The pain spread, hot and powerful, quickly to his forehead and encapsulated his skull, and Dominic closed his eyes tightly to the discomfort.

No, she would not. Alexandra is not like that. Would she?

The soft words spoken inside his mind came from a depth he was not aware of–because the truth of the matter was, he did not know that.

He did not know anything about his wife, and he had made it that way on purpose.

To spare her the same sad death Francesca had sought.

He was callous. Cruel. Unfeeling, according to many, and such traits had driven his first wife to the unthinkable. He would not do that to another woman.

“It is not true,” he said at last, rubbing uselessly at the pain in his temples. “I have afforded her every luxury she has wished for; she would not chance her title, her lifestyle–”

“You do not know a damned thing about this woman,” Walter growled back.

“You will watch your tone, Uncle,” Dominic warned, holding Walter’s gaze. “Do not forget who funds your medical practice.”

Walter’s glare burned back at him with something akin to hatred, but when he spoke next, he had lost some of his gruff.

“You need to be careful. I can see you think she is innocent, but such things do not always convince a woman to stay faithful. I have told you time and time again, women are like this damned dog you love so much. If they are not led and trained, they will bring nothing but ruin.”

“Says the man who has never married,” Dominic retorted ruthlessly.

Walter’s brows perked up as he stood taller and grasped his hands behind his back.

“That may be true,” he stated matter-of-factly, “But your bitch went into heat in your absence and is now about to welp a bastard. I may be unmarried, nephew, but I know women well. Like your first wife, this one is no good, and if you do not get a handle on her, she will drag our good name through the mud.”

Rage and guilt roared through Dominic as Walter brought up Francesca, but instead of launching another verbal attack on him or worse, Dominic stood suddenly and stormed out the doors.

Walter could be insufferable, and the two did not see eye to eye, but the one thing he did accept was that their name and reputation were now in danger.

“Where do you think you are going?” Walter roared behind him as he rose to follow his nephew. “I was talking to you!”

“To London,” Dominic growled over his shoulder, “Apparently, it is time that I have a talk with my wife.”