Page 183 of Dukes for Dessert

“Yes,” he replied and reached up to wrest the powerful weapon from the wall. A spark of heat shot along his hand and radiated up his arm as his flesh connected with the ancient steel. He leapt from the sideboard and, with weapon in hand, made his way for the door.

“What are you doing, Damian?” his mother cried. The rustle of satin skirts indicated she’d moved. Then with an unladylike decorum he’d never before observed, she sprinted over to the door and blocked his retreat.

“I am returning the Theodosia sword.”

“The what?” she eyed him as though prepared to have the cart called for Bedlam.

Damian held the weapon up for her inspection.

“The Theodosia? To call it such diminishes our family’s rightful claim. It is a gladius. An ancient gladius, and…”

“And it belongs to her.” If that is what had brought her into his life, and everything to come after their meeting were lies constructed on pretense, that fealty should be rewarded with the piece that had earned that loyalty.

She flung her hands up. “Belongs to—” A choked gasp burst from her lips and she clasped her neck. “You are returning it to the Rayne woman?”

Yet the seeds of doubt planted by Rayne had since withered under all Damian had come to know about Theodosia. Theodosia would have her sword and Damian would have the truth.

His mother’s wishes and the feud be damned.

* * *

“What madness possessed you?”

Blinkblinkblink. Theodosia sat perched on the ivory upholstered sofa in the Ivory Parlor, blinking up at her mother. And father. And each of her brothers.

That particular “what madness possessed you” belonged to her mother—this time. With four sets of very displeased stares trained on her, she wet her lips. Lips Damian had kissed and explored with his own.

“She is blushing again,” Aidan spat. He glowered. “And after her shameful display with the Devil this morn, I know precisely why she is blushing.”

“Hush,” their mother scolded. She shot a concerned glance over at the door. “If someone hears you she will be ruined.” A mournful cry escaped her and she buried her face into her hands. “By a Renshaw.”

“It looked a good deal worse than it was,” she offered with false cheer and a blatant lie.

“Where is your loyalty,” Aidan spat and came to a stop, towering over her.

She folded her hands and placed them on her lap. Studying the interlocked digits, she remained resolute in her silence.

“What of Richard?” Aidan continued, relentless in his rage.

“Damian did not bring Richard’s sadness to him.”

Silence met her quietly spoken words. The tick tock of the ormolu clock resonated in the parlor.

Then Aidan let out a thunderous bellow and she flinched. Through their eldest brother’s stoic silence, Richard gave no outward reaction to her words. The ensuing situation may as well have belonged to another family than his own. “He is a monster.”

Her patience snapped and she shot to her feet. “On what basis do you judge him?” she cried. “All of you,” she passed a condemning stare about the room, allowing it to linger on each of her family members. Not even a week ago, she was just as resolute in her loathing for all members of the Renshaw family. She gave her head a sad, slow shake, despising herself for being so very blinded to the truth. “Do you not see, the history between our families, it is not Da—the Duke’s doings,” she amended at the narrowing of her father’s eyes. “He is not the monster you…” Shame clogged her throat, making words difficult. “He is not the monster we have taken him for.” He is a man who’d been hurt and shamed for the mark of his birth and through that had established his strength and courage to face that scorn. In doing so, he’d masked his hurts…but Theodosia, he’d let in… And God help her, she didn’t want to get out. “Richard,” she said, turning to her once sensible, now brokenhearted brother. “Damian is not to blame for your Miss Roberts. Nor is his brother.” A muscle jumped at the corner of his eye. “Miss Roberts is to blame.” She held her palms up in supplication. “Surely you’d not have her as her heart belongs to another?”

“It matters not what you say here. You’ll not sway us to that bastard’s favor. He’ll not have you anyway.”

Theodosia swung her gaze to Aidan. Her heart pounded as a sudden unease traversed a path along her spine. “What are you on about?”

A cruel, ugly laugh filled the room. “I merely enlightened the Devil as to your true motives.”

Aidan’s words came as though down a long hall and she struggled to muddle through the dirtied water of his words. “What did you do?” she asked, her voice hoarse. A harsh, ugly grin turned his lips and she flew across the room, her hands outstretched, and took him by the lapels of his jacket. “What did you tell him?” she cried, giving him a hard shake.

“I told him the truth.”

What was the truth? She didn’t think Aidan had ever known a truth in his life, so mired as he’d been in fables and legends. Just as you were. Oh God. Nausea roiled in her belly and she shook him again. “What truth?” she implored.

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