Page 8 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
‘I… know… you… shall.’
John smiled again. That was possibly the only compliment this man had ever given him.
‘I will leave you to it,’ Richard said. The duke’s gaze reached across John’s shoulder, then John heard the door open and shut.
The duke’s hand moved and touched John’s forearm resting on the bed. ‘But… you… must… promise-me… one… thing. You… will… not… wed… beneath… you. You… must… choose… a… wife… to… preserve… the… bloodline.’
John felt his face twist in disgust. Even now, even on his death bed, the old man sought to cast orders and manipulate John’s life. With a self-deprecating smile he nodded. What did he care? It would not matter who he chose.
‘You swear,’ his grandfather pressed on a single breath.
‘I swear,’ John answered, his smile falling. He knew the old man’s game but chose to play.
‘Now… talk… to… me… of… what… you… have… done. I… will… listen.’
John smiled again and leaned back in the chair, folding his arms over his chest and stretching out his legs.
He spoke of Europe, of what he made of it, the things he had seen and done, and he made his stories humorous and even made the old man express a muted laugh. It ended in another visibly painful coughing fit, at which point, the old man’s valet stepped forward to plump the pillows and make the duke more comfortable. John would have left but his grandfather once more bid him stay.
John changed the subject to his true passion, to Egypt, and began talking about the place and people, about the amazing artefacts and architecture of that ancient world. He talked of the finds he was shipping home.
While John spoke, the old man smiled and shut his eyes, his chest rising and falling with each rasping breath.
It was strange watching him thus, this ogre who had dominated John’s life, as a man and not a child. His grandfather was just a man too, with human frailty.
John felt a heavy sense of regret as he continued recounting a pointless search he had set out upon once.
A sound of humour escaped the duke’s lips.
If John had returned in better circumstances, he wondered if they had more time, man to man, whether the past could be put straight between them.
His grandsire’s physician stepped forward a while later, advising His Grace to rest.
John rose and laid a hand on his grandfather’s shoulder. The old man opened his eyes.
‘I… do-not… want… your… pity… Sayle.’
John laughed. ‘You will not have it, Grandfather. But you will have my admiration.’ He gave a slight bow. ‘Your Grace, I will leave you to recoup.’ He had never spoken so openly to the old man as a youth.
John’s hands slid into his pockets as he walked back along the hall, his head full of drifting thoughts. He wondered now if the perceptions he had held as a child would have changed with an adult’s view. Possibly? Probably. But it was too late to know now.
‘John!’
Looking up, he saw a slender, strikingly beautiful young woman. She had ebony hair and pale blue eyes, like his own. A beam of joy lit her face and then she caught up her skirt and ran at him.
Good God, was this Mary Rose, his sister, all grown up?
She hugged him fiercely, her arms about his neck. He held her loosely.
‘John! Oh, John! I am so glad you are back.’ His baby sister was no longer a child. She had been about ten years old and not much taller than his midriff when he left. Now she was as tall as his shoulder.
He lifted her off her feet and twirled her once, smiling, before pressing a kiss against her temple. ‘Mary, mynot-so-little-any-moresister.’
Her hands closed about his arms, and she leaned back, grinning as she looked him over. ‘You are no different, other than a little older.’
‘And more worldly.’ Another female voice came from along the hall.
John looked beyond Mary and saw his mother had stepped out from the drawing room. She was also still strikingly beautiful, their colouring was hers. But there were now two wings of grey in her hair at her temples. His smile softened. ‘Mama.’
