Page 60 of A Duke's Lustful Portrait
“But he hadn’t,” Arabella replied quietly, looking down at her plate. Priscilla shook her head sadly.
“I suspect now that he simply learned to get other boys to do his dirty work for him, much like I believe he does today.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Grandmother.”
Priscilla smiled softly, weakly. “Perhaps it is God’s punishment for some sin in a previous life.”
“No!” Arabella cried. “Don’t think like that. You have the kindest, loveliest soul of anyone in this world.”
Priscilla reached over and patted her hand. “You’re a good girl, dear.”
Arabella paused before asking, “How was he with Mother? Was he a brute to her, too?”
“He adored your mother,” she said, her eyes far away. “Worshipped her. I thought she might be the one to save his soul where I could not, but alas …” She shook her head firmly and then looked up at Arabella with a frown. “I suppose one can only hide one’s true nature for so long.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “And that’s what is bothering me now.”
“But has your father discovered something?” Priscilla asked, brought back to the present. “Is that what the matter is?”
Arabella let out her own humourless chuckle, then sipped her tepid tea before answering, “If only it were that simple. I’d wager my father is as enamoured with the duke as I am.”
“Yes,” Priscilla said. Arabella could hear the note of distaste in her voice. “I had noticed something of a burgeoning friendship there.”
“Burgeoning friendship!” Arabella snorted. “They are damn near brothers in arms!” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Please excuse my language. I’m just—”
“Emotional. It’s understandable, Arabella, after everything you’ve been through. Does their relationship make you feel uncomfortable?”
“Oh, Grandmother!” Arabella turned her desperate eyes on Priscilla. “How could I have got it so wrong? I thought … I was foolish enough to think …”
“That the Duke of Ravenswood would rescue you and take you away from here,” Priscilla said—a statement rather than a question, for she felt the same. “Yes, as did I. But perhaps he still will. You must have faith, Arabella.”
Arabella shook her head again, more firmly this time. “There is a test of loyalty all new members must take. I don’t know what exactly will be expected of him, but I know it will be something truly terrible.”
“I see,” Priscilla replied.
“I have told the duke that if he goes through with it, I can no longer see him, no matter what grand plans he has to get our relationship past my father.”
“But—”
“No, Grandmother. He has a choice. If he chooses to become a full member of the society, then I will finally know the truth about what sort of man he is.”
Chapter 29
Sebastian trotted up the steps to Westment Manor, anxiety gripping his throat. He’d barely slept. He’d been in turmoil ever since Arabella had left his house the night before. But despite his sadness at her words, he knew he was doing the right thing.
He only hoped that one day—soon—she would know everything and then understand why he had made this decision. He could not allow all his hard work to go to waste now.
He couldn’t think about that, regardless. There were far more serious matters at hand. Time was swiftly running out, and Sinclair was expecting him to murder someone. Arabella’s presence—and her anger—added confusion into the mix, but it was Sinclair’s task that had thrown Sebastian into his whirlwind of emotion.
Ever since the day he found his mother and grief set in, Sebastian had been singular in his purpose: find the man who had murdered her, learn why he had done it, and see to it that he was punished.
Now, at five-and-twenty, he’d found Sinclair, and he had suspicions about why he had committed such a heinous act. But Sebastian couldn’t get his revenge and see him punished until he knew the truth. He’d been on this path for far too long to short-change himself.
“I will murder no one,” he muttered to himself as he knocked on the door as if to remind himself of his own moral code.
It was that which caused him consternation, though. He was not a murderer and never would be.Except …The thought that he would do anything to exact his revenge terrified him. It had consumed him entirely for almost his whole life, and even he wondered what he would do if it were the only way.
No!He shook his head. He wouldn’t do it. The very thought repulsed him; in doing it, he would be no better than Sinclair. He would push it to the last minute, the last second, before backing out if that’s what it took. He only hoped he had the courage to stop the charade when it came to it.
