Page 24 of Til Death Duke Us Part
“And I wasn’t enough. I’ve completely failed my father’s legacy. I sold the foundling hospital and everything unentailed. The estates are bringing in just enough money to keep themselves running, and without improvements this coming year, I don’t know what I’ll do. When I heard about the device buried with my brother-in-law’s father, I… Well, I have hope maybe I can finally do something to fix all of it. When I say I understand what it is to feel useless, that’s what I mean. I am useless, and I’m trying not to be.”
“Digging yourself out of your guilt one shovelful of dirt at a time?”
“Hmph. I suppose so. But you”—he glanced at her from the corner of one eye—“you’ve done nothing wrong. You don’t deserve your self flagellation. You tried to save him. In the end, you could not have stopped him.”
“You tried to save your father’s legacy. Through legitimate means, I assume. I’m not referring to the forced marriage plots.”
He laughed. He’d never actually laughed about his situation before. But now, with her, it felt easy. “Investments that went horribly wrong, partnerships with crooked men. And who says selling a sister into marriage isn’t legitimate.”
“I do.”
“Well, then, pardon me, Persephone.”
“I don’t think I will, Morington.” She scowled. “What is your given name? It seems unfair for me to constantly call you by your title when you throw my name about so freely.”
He did, didn’t he. He liked her name. It suited her. “Victor.”
“Victor.” She took her time pronouncing it, and he wanted to kiss her lips as each syllable crossed them. “Like the man who built a monster?”
“The what?”
“The man in the book? Oh, I can’t remember the title. But the man, he was named Victor… Victor… Fitzgerald? Fitzwilliam? Franklin? I’ll never remember. But he builds a monster. From the spare body parts of dead people.”
“Bloody hell.”
“You remind me of him.”
“Brilliant and cunning?”
“Silly and dangerous.”
He laughed again, harder this time, so loudly, he startled the horse. When he’d conquered the mirth, he found Persephone’s eyes dancing. And he wanted to dance with them, to stop the horse and pull her to the dusty road, and waltz with her down it, into the setting yellow sun. He’d glamour her into a gown like the sunset—navy-blue velvet wrapped round with gauzy, soft pinks and yellows. And when they reached the horizon, laughing the both of them, he’d kiss her like they stood on the precipice. The end of the world just beyond their tapping toes, and them falling into it with clinging arms and kissing lips.
Sobered, he said, “I’m sorry for the rings. I didn’t know. I thought of them as nothing but a prop. I see now it’s more than that. If I could have a bit of metal that would let me feel my father’s love as if he were alive, I would kill for it.”
Her chuckle sounded forced. “Don’t say that. I’ll believe you. And then I’ll have to sleep with one eye open tonight.”
“Do you have such a device?” If he could feel his father’s emotions despite death, what would they be? Love? Pride? Shame?
Damn.
“No,” she said softly. “Nothing like that exists. The rings are memories trapped in metal, and he would have needed to wear it while living, while feeling those emotions.” She grabbed his hand, and he had to focus to keep the brougham in line. “Do you have a signet ring? One he wore? Don’t transcendents do that?” She flipped his hand over, as if he were hiding it somewhere on his bare hand.
“I sold it.”
“Oh.” That single syllable as soft as the hands that folded his. As if in prayer. “Oh, V-Victor, I’m… I am terribly sorry.”
“I need neither pity nor apologies. Help me make a fortune. That’s all I need.”
She faced resolutely forward, her shoulders firm as a general’s. “I will do just that.”
“You will?”
A firm nod with that little chin.
“Well then. That was easy. It appears I’ve been a negative influence on you. Excellent.”
“Do not preen, your grace. You’ve had no influence on me at all. But I intend to have a good influence on you.”
