Page 77 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
“I can. I will pay off all your debts, but you will leave your daughter alone. We will not hear from you again unless you want a public castigation, Hartwell. Enough is enough.”
Hartwell fell silent. His smug expression had vanished. His face was blank as his shoulders slumped.
A deep breath.
A small frown.
He fidgeted, walking around in circles. Oliver could see Prescott watching the whole thing with curiosity and hope. Would the man who was threatening to ruin his reputation—and possibly his life—finally be defeated?
While Oliver could understand Prescott’s role in the matter, he still was not convinced he was an ally. How did Hartwell find out that the man knew J. Lewis’s real identity?
Then, Hartwell spoke, “All right.”
It was so simple and short. Oliver couldn’t believe it, and he wouldn’t take any more chances.
“You will sign a document drafted by my solicitors saying that you will stay away not only from Alexandra and me but also from Prescott. I am willing to help you get rid of your debts. You must attest that you have received the amount, or we can give the money to Lockwood, and he’ll sign a statement confirming that your debt has been paid in full.”
“Alexandra—” Hartwell began.
“No, you do not get to talk to your daughter again. You lost all rights when you made her a pawn in your little game. Children, of both sexes, should not be used for financial gain.”
“W-What if you two have children in the future? Will I get to see them?” He seemed older then, and his back seemed to be more hunched.
Was it all an act?
“No, Father, you will not. You have hurt me long enough. I don’t want you near my children, not until we can be completely certain you will not speak to them the same way you speak to me. I should have severed all ties long ago, but I still had hope and believed that you could finally love me.”
Oliver’s heart shattered upon hearing his wife’s words. He could remember the pain his sister had to carry upon finding out what his father was. He was saved from the brunt of it.
“Alexandra, I-I was only afraid that?—”
“We won’t listen to what you have to say, Hartwell. My wife is kind-hearted. She loves you. She came to London to pay off your debts and risked her reputation to sell compositions under a man’s name. If you talk to her, she will more likely give you another chance. But I won’t. Maybe in a few years, you may try again. But not now.” Oliver’s voice was sharp and unyielding.
He was looking at the man who ‘sold’ his daughter.
He was looking at the man who didn’t bother to check how she was doing during her first year of marriage.
Oliver felt guilty for doing the same thing, but he saw his mistakes now. Even if he didn’t love Alexandra back then, he could’ve handled things the proper way by checking if she was comfortable. If she was happy.
He was looking at the man who had forced his daughter to pay off his debts.
He was looking at the bastard whose daughter tried to save him at Devil’s Draw, and he repaid it with insults.
Oliver could not imagine a life where his future children would visit their grandfather. Their family could only be Catherine’s. He couldn’t think of anyone else at this point.
Hartwell looked at his daughter as if for support. The eyes that had often shone with hatred and contempt were soft now. Dull.
“No, Father. That will not work this time. The last time you looked at me like that, you married me off to a stranger days later.”
Oliver felt like he had been punched. Did she still regret being married to him? Was she merely making the best of it?
“There are no regrets now,” she continued, “now that I know who Oliver truly is.”
Oliver reached for her hand. She turned to him and smiled. It was sweet, but the tears were still there. He vowed that he wouldn’t let her hurt like this again.
“Are you choosing your husband over me, Alexandra?” Hartwell asked in a husky voice.
Oliver knew that if he didn’t get rid of his own vices, he would look like his father-in-law one day—perhaps even worse. After all, he boxed. His face still bore the evidence of the last fight.
