them. And you haven’t for some time. One can only hope your son will come home soon and take over for you.”
“He cannot take over. I’m the duke,” Blackstone snapped, his bony hands emaciated in the way those who eschewed food for drink became, curled into fists.
“Well,” Heath shrugged. He could not pity this man who would prostitute his child for his needs. “Then, perhaps death will visit you soon, and then you won’t have to worry about any of this any longer. And your son will be able to repair all you have made a wreckage of.”
“Is that a threat?” Blackstone demanded.
Heath leaned forward, bridging his hands.
It was tempting to threaten death to a man like Blackstone.
After all, if he threatened murder, then perhaps the duke would leave Lady Mary alone, give his wife a bit of peace, and stop gambling and ruining his family estates.
Heath didn’t give a damn about the family estates, but he did, to his own surprise, care about Lady Mary.
Still, he doubted even a promise to come round and murder him or beat him black and blue could stop Blackstone now.
“It’s not a threat, Your Grace,” Heath said simply. “It’s a fact. The way you’re living, you’ll die any day.”
A shadow crossed over Blackstone’s gaunt face. “It is the way of Blackstone men to die early. I’m not afraid of it.”
“You should be,” Heath warned quietly. “The way you’re going, it shan’t be a pleasant end.”
“What do you know of pleasant ends?” Blackstone returned, weaving ever so slightly. “You’ve come from the gutter, and you’ve seen men die like dogs.”
“It’s true,” Heath agreed without shame. “But death is a great equalizer, Your Grace. Just because you’re a duke doesn’t mean you shall die any better than a dog. As a matter of fact, I think most dogs will have more honor than you when you die.”
Blackstone ground his teeth together. “You’re not worth my daughter.”
“You’re correct,” Heath said tightly. It was true. Lady Mary was above him, and not in position. She was everything that was good in this world of darkness. “I’m not.”
“How would you know?” Blackstone said, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve never met her.”
“Oh, just from supposition,” Heath said quickly, realizing he’d made a critical error.
Lady Mary was causing him to make critical errors.
She’d been in his thoughts since nightfall, in wondering how he could help her. He was not a man to usually slip up, but he realized that, at this moment, he just had.
“You’ve met her,” Blackstone breathed.
Damnation.
Blackstone was not an idiot.
In fact, he was incredibly intelligent.
It was a great misfortune that his demons had destroyed him so utterly.
Worse, Blackstone had given into them entirely. He did not even try to stop. Perhaps he’d given up trying, because it was impossible.
Heath could not say.
He’d known men like Blackstone before, men who had wallowed in their own misery and grief and had been unable to stop their descent to madness and darkness and death.
Heath had had one such moment, years and years ago, but he had seen another path, another choice, and he had taken it. And it had stopped him dying in a hellish alley somewhere where no one would have known his name or remembered him ever again.
“Yes, I have met Lady Mary,” he admitted.
“How?” Blackstone demanded.
“It’s none of your business, but you will leave her alone,” Heath said with more danger than he usually implemented. “She doesn’t need your punishment.”
As if he realized he’d gained some sort of excellent card in a game, Blackstone said, “She’s my daughter, and I’ll do whatever the devil I care with her.”
Fury at himself for being so easily off foot, coursed through Heath. He forced himself to appear calm. “Of course, she’s your daughter. And by law of the land, you are allowed to do what you wish with her.”
“Females are property,” Blackstone declared. “That’s all they’re good for.”
Heath pressed his lips together.
He wasn’t prepared to go into a debate with Blackstone. There was no point, but he hated that sentiment. He’d seen women passed around by men, used as if they were nothing more than a vessel for their own pleasure.
It was certainly something Blackstone did. And he loathed the man for it. The fact he had so misused the very people he was supposed to take care of most, his wife and daughter, made him only the more appalling.
“Be careful, Your Grace,” Heath suddenly found himself saying. “Lady Mary is not the sort of woman to be trifled with.”
Blackstone laughed,