Unmasking the Duke's Mistress (Gentlemen of Disrepute #1)(42)

‘That bastard!’ The curse could not be bitten back. ‘He knew that I loved you and meant to marry you. Hell, he even knew about the locket!’

‘My father showed him the locket, and the duke laughed and said that it was no proof of a betrothal and that we could hardly sue for breach of promise. He gave my father money and told us it would go better for us if we kept quiet.’ Every word that she spoke was like a cut to his heart. Every word revealing the terrible enormity of what his father had done.

He shook his head, even now hardly able to believe it. ‘My own father did this,’ he whispered, more to himself than Arabella. The man he had loved and respected and admired. The very foundation on which he had built his life shifted, making a mockery of everything in which he had believed for the last years.

‘My God!’ There was a sickness in his stomach and he felt chilled to the very core of his being. It took every last drop of his determination to hang on to his self-control.

Arabella could see the strain in Dominic’s face, his pallor, the tight press of his lips as he struggled with the magnitude of emotion. In his eyes was such a deadly rage that she almost felt afraid. And she knew from the terribleness of his reaction that he was telling the truth. And if he was telling the truth, then that meant…

The floor beneath her feet felt as unsteady as everything else in her world. She was reeling, floundering with a realisation beyond anything she could ever have imagined. She swayed and felt him clutch her hard against him.

There were a thousand thoughts milling in her head, all of them tearing at the beliefs she had constructed for herself over the years. She felt chilled all the way through, so cold that she could never imagine being warm again. And she knew that she was trembling, but she just could not stop no matter how hard she willed it.

Dominic swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed where he sat her down on its edge and swathed the covers around her.

‘Why would he do such a thing, Dominic?’

Dominic’s face was hard and cynical. ‘My father,’ and his lip curled with disgust as he spoke the words, ‘did not think you a suitable match, Arabella. He said that you were a young man’s infatuation. That I would tire of you eventually. That I had a duty to the dukedom to marry either money or status.’

She had known her own unsuitability even then, but Dominic had told her that he would make his own choice and that his choice was her. ‘But the old duke was only ever affable to my face. He never so much as suggested a murmur of these thoughts. I believed him understanding of our betrothal.’ She shook her head at her own na?vety.

‘It was my father who persuaded me to keep the betrothal quiet and informal. He said that if it lasted then he would give it his blessing and make a formal announcement. I never imagined for one minute that he would stoop to such a level.’

‘I cannot quite comprehend what you are telling me, Dominic,’ she whispered; she felt frozen and numb inside.

‘I can barely credit it myself.’ His voice was soft, but she shuddered to hear the intensity within it.

He sat down on the bed by her side. And they just sat there in silence.

‘Tell me what happened to you,’ she said. Every word was torture, but she needed to know. And she knew he needed to tell her. ‘You went away.’

‘He sent me to my uncle in Scotland. Told me some story of a sudden illness and that he did not feel up to making such a long journey. Could I go in his stead?’ His voice was low, his words deadened almost, with a something of a terrible unnatural quiet to them. ‘I was forced to leave that very night, but I wrote you a note of explanation and left instructions for its delivery to you. And then I wrote to you every day from Scotland.’ He gave a laugh so hard and cynical that it made her blood run cold. ‘Little wonder that there was never a reply. You did not receive my letters, did you, Arabella? My father saw to that.’

She shook her head. ‘There was no note of explanation. There were never any letters.’

‘Was my uncle a part of this ruse? Was he even really ill at all?’ He stared into the distance as if he could see the past there. ‘Will we ever really know the level of treachery, Arabella?’

She could not answer. She did not know.

He shook his head as if he had his own answer.

‘I stayed with him during what I thought was his convalescence and when I returned home you were gone. Married to Marlbrook, they said. A man old enough to be your father.’ He looked round at her. ‘I thought you had forsaken me for him, Arabella.’

‘Never.’ Her voice was thick with strain. ‘What choice did I have once I realised our child was growing in my belly? Henry was kind. He knew of my situation and was prepared to overlook it.’

‘That is why you married him. At last I understand. You thought I had abandoned you.’

‘For all these years,’ she whispered.

‘You were my love, Arabella. My heart. My life.’ His voice cracked and she saw the restraint within him shatter and the great storm of emotion unleash. He sprang to his feet. ‘Damn my father to hell! Damn him, Arabella. I would kill him myself were he not already dead! He has ruined my life, and your life, and that of an innocent child!’ His voice shook with passion. ‘I have a son, Arabella, and I did not know! A son!’ The words tore from his throat as he turned away and punched his fist hard into the door. His head drooped and in the resounding silence that followed she could hear only the raggedness of his breathing. He turned to her then, and looked at her and the agony on his face was terrible to see.