Page 98 of Wicked Designs
Charles started to edge towards the door. “Shall we…er…go too?”
“Stay. You might need to keep me from killing this bastard,” Godric said as his gaze fixed on Jonathan. “But don’t try too hard.”
Jonathan stood up, defiant. “Nothing happened, Your Grace. She asked for my help. I gave it. We only took the room at the inn to avoid the rain.”
“You lie!” Godric’s fingers dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. “She was half-naked, as were you!”
Jonathan kicked the chair between them away. “You want to kill me? Then kill me! If you think you can.”
Cedric and Charles each took a step forward, ready to intervene.
“So be it!” Godric lunged for him and grabbed his shirt collar, shaking him.
“Unhand him at once!”
Godric and Jonathan stopped and turned, shocked to see who would dare address Godric that way. Simkins stood in the open doorway, as if he were the master of Essex House. When he had their attention, he returned to his usual self and added, “Your Grace.”
Godric recovered himself. “Don’t interfere. It is a matter of honor.”
Simkins raised a pistol from under his coat and aimed the barrel at Godric’s chest.
“You will step away from your half-brother, Your Grace,” Simkins said, voice surprisingly calm.
“Brother?” Godric asked, letting go of Jonathan’s shirt.
Simkins lowered the pistol. “I vowed to your father that no harm would befall him. It puts me in a difficult position. I will of course tender my resignation after this, but I am firm in my decision to protect Jonathan.”
Jonathan glanced sharply at Godric as the news sank in. “I’m his what?”
Godric was not as surprised. Ever since Emily had mentioned it, he’d half suspected there was more to his valet’s past than he knew. He’d even warmed to the idea,but that was before tonight. Tonight was bad timing. Right now he wanted Jonathan dead.
“I don’t care if he’s the king of England! If he harmed my Emily—”
“Then we will deal with that problem, but only if Miss Parr confirms your belief that he has, in fact, harmed her.”
Godric groaned, his shoulders hunching forward as he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes so hard he saw stars. Right now he didn’t even feel like the master of his own house. Not with his butler pointing a pistol at him.
“How…how are we brothers?” Jonathan demanded.
Simkins lowered the pistol but didn’t put it away. “The late duke sought comfort in your mother’s arms. He cared about her, as he did you. When he fell ill I vowed to care for you as I have His Grace.”
“So I really am—”
“A bastard,” Godric supplied.
“No. Jonathan is a legitimate son of the former Duke of Essex. He married her in secret ten months before Jonathan was born. His birth was recorded in the parish registry under your father’s name, Your Grace.”
“If I’m not a bastard why wasn’t I raised alongside him?” Jonathan jabbed a finger in Godric’s direction.
Heavy lines creased Simkins eyes. “The former duke told me, on his deathbed, to keep Godric an only child. He never wanted the truth of your heritage to be known, unless Godric died without an heir.”
“Why would he do that?” Jonathan’s anger began toovershadow Godric’s. “Why would he take from me my right as a duke’s son?”
“Your father realized he’d been terribly cruel to Godric and that admitting he’d found love with another would only make matters worse, and he feared Godric would be jealous of you.”
Godric couldn’t believe it. The stupid man! Godric would have preferred a brother over solitude. That his father chose to love a lady’s maid made no difference, but to be denied his brother all these years did.
Jonathan looked to his brother, uncertain what to say. “Well then… Where does that leave us?”
