Page 71 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

“Treated well?” Rowan’s free hand clenched into a fist. “I was flogged within a week. Worked like a dog. Nearly died in battle three times.”

“I didn’t know,” Veer sobbed. “I swear on my children’s lives, I didn’t know it would be like that.”

Rowan drew back his fist, ready to strike, but Veer threw up his hands in desperate supplication.

“Please! I only did it to save my family. I was drowning in gambling debts. They were going to take our house, put my children on the street. When the offer came—twelve hundred pounds—I couldn’t refuse. It was that or watch my family starve.”

“Twelve hundred pounds.” Rowan’s voice was deadly quiet. “That’s what my life was worth to you?”

“I’m sorry,” Veer wept openly now. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. But I was desperate. The creditors were threatening to break my legs, to hurt my wife. What would you have done in my place?”

“I wouldn’t have sold an innocent man into slavery,” Rowan snarled.

“It wasn’t supposed to be slavery! They promised?—”

“Who?” Rowan shook him. “Who made these promises? Who paid you?”

“I don’t know!” At Rowan’s disbelieving glare, Veer stumbled to his desk. “I never met them. Everything was handled through intermediaries. But I kept this.”

With shaking hands, he pulled out a drawer and retrieved a folded paper. “The receipt from my accountant. He managed the payment.”

Rowan snatched the paper, examining it closely. The handwriting was neat, precise. A formal receipt for services rendered, made out to one Edward Bentern. The name meant nothing to him, but the quality of the paper and the official seal suggested someone of means and influence.

“Edward Bentern,” he read aloud. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know. I tried to find out after… after it was done. But there’s no trace of him. It might not even be a real name.”

“Your accountant. Where is he?”

“George Latham. He has offices in Plymouth.” Veer wiped his face with a trembling hand. “He arranged everything. The payment, the documentation. I met with the intermediary only once, and he wouldn’t give his name.”

“Describe him.”

“Average height, brown hair, well-dressed. He had educated speech, like a gentleman.” Veer’s voice grew bitter. “He spoke of it like a business transaction. As if we were discussing cargo, not a man’s life.”

Rowan folded the receipt carefully and placed it in his coat pocket. This was the first tangible evidence he’d found, the first real clue to whoever had orchestrated his nightmare.

“Your Grace,” Veer said tentatively. “What will you do to me?”

Rowan looked down at the pathetic figure before him. Part of him wanted to beat the man senseless, to make him suffer even a fraction of what he’d endured. But the sounds of children’s laughter drifted through the walls, and he thought of Felix charming Veer’s innocent family.

“You will never leave Cornwall,” he said finally. “You will not go near a dock, a gaming table, or anywhere else that might tempt you to your old vices. If I hear even a whisper that you’ve strayed from this county or returned to gambling, I’ll see you ruined. Not imprisoned, Veer. Ruined. Slowly and thoroughly. Your family will watch as everything you’ve built crumbles around you.”

Veer nodded frantically. “Yes, Your Grace. I understand. I’ll never?—”

“Furthermore, you’ll write down everything you remember about the transaction. Every detail, no matter how small. Sign it and send it to my London residence within the week.”

“Of course. Anything you ask.”

“The only reason you’re not facing the gallows is those children out there,” Rowan continued coldly. “They deserve better than a father who would sell his soul for coin. Make sure they never learn what kind of man you really are.”

“Thank you,” Veer whispered. “Your Grace, I?—”

But Rowan was already moving toward the door. He’d gotten what he came for, and every additional moment in this man’s presence made him sick.

He found Felix in the parlor, teaching the Veer children a card trick while their mother watched with cautious amusement. His friend’s eyes met his, reading his expression instantly.

“Well, children, I’m afraid the Duke and I must be going,” Felix said smoothly, producing a penny from behind the little girl’s ear as a parting gift. “But it’s been absolutely delightful meeting you all.”

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