The Matter of a Marquess - Jess Michaels Page 0,66

so dastardly?” Derrick said softly, almost gently, as if he were soothing a child. Perhaps Nicholas wasn’t far off, emotionally. “You know he was a victim of Roseford too.”

Nicholas looked across the desk at his brother and saw how affected Robert was by this accusation. Some of his emotions softened. “I…no. I can’t imagine you would have been directly involved in such cruelty. But did you know about it afterward? Did you keep it from me to reduce my pain?”

“No,” Robert said firmly. “I wouldn’t have kept such a secret from you. Especially once you arrived here and reconnected with Aurora. I would have told you if I’d known, I swear that to you on my life.”

“Then I’m sorry. You’ve been nothing but good to me since my arrival. You didn’t deserve my accusations,” Nicholas said, bending his head.

“I’m your brother. I will always be on your side,” Robert said softly. “I know you don’t think much of me—”

“That isn’t true,” Nicholas said, jerking his face back up. “I’ve gotten to know you, really know you, in the past few weeks. And I was a fool to avoid what we could have had all along. You are a good man.”

Robert twisted his face. “No need to insult me, now.”

That elicited a smile from Nicholas, but he could do nothing more than that weak expression. “I think I’m just in shock finding out what her father did. What our father might have done.”

“Well, first let us find out if this is true,” Robert said, and got up. He crossed to the bookshelves on the opposite side of the room and skimmed along the neat lines. “These are our father’s journals,” he explained. “I keep them out so I can see them and always know what he was. What I never want to become, despite my nature. What year was it again that he did this?”

“Summer of 1807,” Nicholas choked out. “July 23, if you want to be specific. It was a warm night. It rained at midnight and I wanted it to flood the world.”

Robert slid his finger along the line and stopped abruptly to pull out one of the journals. He flipped it open. “Near the end of his life,” he muttered as he skimmed the pages. “Ah, here is the general timeline.”

He read for a few moments, his lips pursed in disgust, and then his eyes went wide. He looked at Nicholas. “Roseford came to you that summer?”

Nicholas nodded. “Yes, a few weeks before. He wanted a relationship of some kind. I told him I already had a father and wanted nothing to do with him.”

Robert flinched. “Well, it seems he decided to exact a cost for that.” He moved to Nicholas and handed over the journal.

It was written in the late duke’s scrawl, which was as undisciplined as the man had been. Nicholas had to squint to understand the words when they blended together. But the meaning was crystal clear. He read it out loud:

“Took care of that little problem with Gillingham. If he doesn’t want my support, then he shall understand the pain of its absence. Off to the army he goes, where he’ll find his precious independence isn’t as exciting as he believes. Earl of Bramwell pleased as he didn’t want a bastard, even my bastard, clouding his treasured line.”

Nicholas let the book droop. “And then he just goes on about some woman he was fucking behind her husband’s back.”

“I’m sorry,” Derrick whispered. “I’m so desperately sorry for you both and for Selina and Morgan that this man was your so-called father.”

Nicholas pushed from his seat and crossed to the sideboard. He poured himself a tall glass of whisky and downed the entire thing in one slug, then slammed the glass down with enough force that it screeched.

“I would kill them for what they did, but they’re already both dead men.” He threw up his hands in frustration. “There is no revenge for this. No way to balance the damned scales. They conspired together to destroy my life and hers and there is nothing I can do about it.”

“That’s not true,” Robert said softly.

Nicholas pivoted and glared at his brother. “What do you suggest? Dig them both up and have my row?”

To his surprise, a flicker of a smile passed over Robert’s face. He glared harder at the appearance of it. “Is this funny to you, brother? Does my pain cause you amusement?”

Robert shook his head. “Never. I’m just not accustomed to this passionate streak coming