Beauty Tempts the Beast (Sins for All Seasons #6) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,108

the man’s place in his life, would be acknowledging his acceptance of who he himself was.

Yet, when their palms touched, he had the sense that he’d come home.

When his da drew him in close, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and gave his back a thump, all he could do was blink back the tears suddenly burning his eyes.

“Welcome back into the family, lad. And I apologize because I don’t recall giving you a proper introduction when we met. I was stunned by seeing you, seeing myself in you. I’d be the Duke of Glasford.”

His father was a bloody duke. Did that mean his inheritance included a dukedom? Christ, he had noble blood running through his veins.

He recognized Mayfair when the coach bearing the ducal crest in which he was riding entered the area. Since climbing into the conveyance, he and the duke hadn’t spoken a word as though all the emotions that had swept through them with the handshake and embrace were simply too large and grand. Yet, in the silence they’d been assessing each other. He felt like he was moving about in a dream comprised of thick treacle that caused every action to be slow and difficult to navigate. At any moment he was going to wake up to discover it was all simply a bad and elaborate jest, perpetrated in cruelty.

Then the vehicle turned the corner and passed through wrought-iron gates, and he glanced out the window to see a massive manor, the sort in which he’d dreamed of living when he was a lad, crowded in a bed with his brothers. The kind of house that his years of hard work had put within reach, but he hadn’t wanted to walk through it alone. Now he would walk through it with Thea.

“You should know you carry one of my titles as a courtesy,” his father said quietly. “You’re the Earl of Tewksbury.”

A blasted earl. A blasted lord. What did he know about being a lord? “It doesn’t seem real.”

“I suspect it won’t for a while. I’m having a hard time believing it myself. We searched for you for years.”

Every time the duke revealed something, his chest tightened a little bit more. To have been wanted to such an extent they’d searched for years. A part of him wanted to simply say no to all this, hop out of the carriage, and make his way back to Thea. He’d left without talking to her, without telling her anything. The shock of it all, he supposed. Or perhaps he simply needed more confirmation that it was true before he told her. What words would he use to explain all this? “I assume you have a ducal estate.”

“Aye. Lovely place, but the manor house there makes this one look like a doll’s house.”

He couldn’t imagine it. Hadn’t earned it, wasn’t certain he wanted any of it. The title, the estate, being heir to a dukedom. Shouldn’t he have had to do something to be worthy of it other than being born and surviving?

The coach came to a stop and a footman immediately appeared to open the door. With ease, the duke leapt out and Beast imagined him riding and striding over his lands, keeping himself fit. He followed him out and up the steps. Once more a door was opened. This time by a butler who bowed slightly. “Your Grace.”

“Bentley, is the duchess in the gardens?”

“Yes, sir.”

“This way, lad.”

They strode down a long corridor with portraits dotting the walls. So many portraits, and Beast imagined he saw himself in many of the faces. He wanted to stop and study each one, learn their names and history. “How many dukes have there been?”

“You’ll be the ninth.”

He felt it like a punch to the gut. The words were said with no doubt, simply absolute conviction. Yet, he couldn’t envision himself as a duke, as a lord of the realm. A man welcomed and respected simply because of his birth. He’d spent his entire life defending his birth as a bastard—and now he was legitimate. His skin suddenly seemed too tight, as though he no longer belonged in it, as though he no longer knew who he was.

What hadn’t changed was his desire, his need, to protect women. “It’s too cold for her to be outside.”

“Aye, but that matters not one whit to her. She spent years without feeling the sun on her face or the breeze riffling through her hair. The day I married her, we spent that night sleeping