Ten Days with a Duke (12 Dukes of Christmas #11) - Erica Ridley Page 0,28

this war with me. You’re my heir, aren’t you? Blood is everything, Elijah. Nothing else matters. You are sixth in line to an earldom—”

“There is no earldom,” Eli burst out. Inheriting a legitimate title had always been his father’s dream. “You’re fifth in line only because your nephews haven’t married yet. Everyone in our family seems to sire sons. By this time next year, you could be eighth in line. And the year after that—”

“It doesn’t matter what my nephews do,” the marquess interrupted. “I’ve Prinny on my side.”

For a moment, no one in the room seemed to breathe.

Eli stared at his father. “You’ve got what?”

“Prinny,” the marquess repeated. “The Harpers made an enemy of him when they refused to sell him that stallion. It was the first time the caricatures came out in their favor. The Regent does not appreciate being mocked. The night you were supposed to have finished this business, he was heard to say that if someone were to teach the Harpers a lesson, he’d be of a mind to grant that person a title in their own right.”

“Who did he allegedly say this to? The gossips—”

“He said it to me.” The marquess gloated. “It’s the perfect revenge. Not only will I have humiliated the Harpers, I will become literally, legally, publicly superior—at their expense.”

Eli’s stomach bottomed.

This was his father’s dearest wish come true. There would be no talking him out of it now. Not with the personal favor of the Prince Regent at risk.

“Besides,” drawled the marquess, holding out his empty glass to the horror of the suddenly scurrying servants. “It’s too late to be noble, Elijah. You’ve already begun. Miss Harper shan’t forgive you, regardless. It’s up to you if you want to make your deception worth it.” He tilted his newly filled glass toward Eli and smiled. “Do you want to save women like your mother or not?”

Chapter 9

The Sixth Day

It was the last day of the year.

Although Eli awoke before dawn, he did not rush outside to Olive as he longed to. Instead, he took his research to the dining table and spent the morning brooding at the small piles.

It had taken eight years to get this far. And if he defied his father, the research would not go any further. More women would die. Children’s mothers. Children who would be lost and alone without their mothers’ love.

Eli didn’t have the chemical expertise to continue—not that his father would allow such study—nor did Eli have the resources to build a laboratory or pay wages.

The meeting he’d missed this week was with the chemist he’d promised to sponsor once Eli returned to London. He’d sent a letter apologizing for the delay.

But the person Eli most wished he could apologize to was Olive.

The first time he’d hurt her, the only person he’d been trying to save was himself. He would carry that shame for eternity. It was his biggest regret.

And here he was, planning to do it again.

This time, he was trying to save women’s lives. Perhaps even save Olive herself. When she met someone worthy of her, she might become a mother and need the very substance Eli’s chemist would produce in order to survive the delivery of her baby.

It didn’t make him feel any better about his duplicitousness.

He pushed his books aside. Rather than wither with time, Eli’s schoolboy tendre had ripened into love. But strong emotion was dangerous. If his father suspected the truth, Eli’s love would become ammunition. Something else to snatch away, in the name of retribution.

As furious as he was with his father for his cold-blooded manipulation, the marquess was right: Stopping now would mean losing Olive and any hope for cures. And that would be only the beginning.

With Prinny’s promise hanging in the balance, Father’s decades-long feud with the Harpers would seem positively benevolent compared to the marquess’s vindictiveness should his son defy him now.

If Eli so much as breathed a word of caution to Olive, Father’s rage would turn on her. The marquess did not take betrayal lightly. He would destroy Olive with merciless savagery, simply because it would destroy Eli as well.

He rubbed his face as though he could scrub the image away. When he lifted his hands, Mr. Harper was standing in the door to the dining room.

Mr. Harper smiled and gestured with his hands.

Eli pointed to himself and then to his books.

With exaggerated gestures, Mr. Harper jabbed a finger at Eli, then pointed in the direction of the horses.

And Olive.

Even Eli could not