Page 20 of A Duke Changes Everything
“This house is cluttered with possessions that benefit no one. Much of it, thankfully, is not part of the entail. I intend to sell what I can.” He wasn’t sure why he was detailing his plans and rushing through his words as if he were forcing out a confession. With a gesture around the room, he indicated the ridiculous suit of armor standing sentry in the corner and an old sword collection hanging on the far wall. “Once we clear these out, the room can be thoroughly cleaned.”
“I... don’t understand.” Her voice came in a raspy whisper. “You wish to sell off your history?”
“I don’t give a toss about my history, Miss Thorne.” Nick approached the cart and poured himself whiskey, a rich old brew, the same honeyed brown as the eyes shooting daggers at his back.
“Perhaps you should,Your Grace. Tremaynes have owned this land for centuries.”
Nick downed the whole finger of liquor in one searing swallow. “It’s time for a change.”
“Your father—”
“Don’t mention him again.”
The little growl of frustration she emitted under her breath wasn’t quite low enough for Nick not to hear.
“May I mention your brother then?”
“If you must.”
“As you see from the account ledgers, the previous duke left little behind.” She took two steps closer.
Nick turned to refill his glass, but he sensed her nearness, breathed in a lungful of her fresh, sweet scent as she came to stand just over his shoulder. When he turned, she was too close. Dangerously so. An arm’s reach away.
She gazed up at him, emotions raw, her desperation palpable.
“Even he did not think of selling Tremayne heirlooms,” she said stiffly.
“Despite appearances, I am not my father. And I sure as hell am nothing like my brother.”
She began shaking her head, as if she didn’t believe him, or didn’t want his denial. Nick reached out and slipped a finger under her chin, urging her to look into his eyes. To hear him. To understand the man she was dealing with.
But her skin was warm and so damn soft. He found himself stroking his thumb against the silken edge of her chin.
She tensed but didn’t pull away.
“I’m not a nice man, Miss Thorne. Not even a particularly good one. He saw to that.” Nick tipped his head to indicate the portrait looming over them. “Inheriting this estate proves I’m not a lucky man either. But I am fair.”
Hope flared in her eyes, and Nick clenched his jaw against the urge to give her something, anything, to be hopeful for. But he couldn’t. He’d only come to Enderley to settle matters and leave the pile behind him once and for all.
He let her go, clenched his fist to hold on to her warmth, the only heat in this arctic room. “I’ll give you and the staff a fortnight to get Enderley in order. I can bring in help to remove the items we wish to sell.”
Hope sputtered in her gaze, like a snuffed candle. “You truly mean to gut the house.”
He hated the emptiness in her voice, the telltale quiver in her chin.
Nick put on his business mien. The one he used with aristocrats in the den. The one that said he would brook no argument.
“Don’t cling to any other possibility, Miss Thorne.” He needed her to understand what he was and that he hadn’t come to give any of them hope. “I mean to gut Enderley, lease it, and never think on these cold stone walls again.”
Chapter Six
Nick punched the pillow, angling the lumpy thing to find a bit of comfort, but Enderley wouldn’t give him any relief. Scents and sounds were too eerily familiar. When he closed his eyes, the past rushed in, ghost fingers reaching out from every corner and crevice of the damnable house.
Sitting upright in the creaking guest bed, he scraped at the stubble on his chin and longed for his own room at Lyon’s—the thick double mattress, the lush velvet bedcovers, the soft silken sheets. If anyone wondered why he insisted on such luxuries, let them suffer a night in this grim place.
But it wasn’t truly luxury he craved. He’d happily return to the smoke-filled rooms at Lyon’s or wander the soot-filled streets of London. Anything was preferable to spending the night in this damp, musty tomb. The place stoked memories he’d long kept at bay and he sensed his father’s presence everywhere.
Especially in his portrait in the study.
