Page 15 of Tempted By the English Marquis
Great.Not only was Gideon going to have to deal with his father, but there was every chance that he would be the one tasked with having to break the news of the bombshell their mother had dropped right into the middle of the Kembal family.
Are we still a family? Yes. Yes, we are. I will make certain of it.
Much as he wished to either cry or find a bottle of whisky, or both, Gideon knew that falling apart wouldn’t do anyone any good. “I will go and talk to Papa. In the meantime, could you please look in on our brother and sisters? As soon as I have a clear idea as to what is going on, I shall come and find you.”
Richard gave a nod. At times he was the bane of Gideon’s life, but tonight he had shown a degree of maturity that made his eldest brother proud. Utilizing the plain hack in the middle of a family crisis had been a sensible decision.
Gideon made his way upstairs to the second floor of Mowbray House, to his father’s private study. He knocked on the door and waited. A faint “go away” came from within. After taking a deep, fortifying breath, he opened the door.
The sight which met his gaze had him on the brink of tears.
Slumped on the floor, head bowed, and with his back pressed against his desk, was Clifford Kembal, the Duke of Mowbray. In his hand was a half-empty bottle of whisky. Nearby lay another bottle. From the look of things, his father had already vanquished that one. The air around the duke was so thick with alcohol fumes that Gideon feared what might happen if a naked flame was held too close to his sire.
“Papa?”
Clifford raised his head for a brief moment, then let it drop again. “Go away.”
Gideon quietly closed and locked the door behind him. The senior household servants had no doubt already realized something was seriously amiss, which would explain the lack of staff he had encountered on his way upstairs. Thank heavens for small mercies. All junior servants would be held below stairs this evening, thereby ensuring that it would be morning before any sort of gossip had the chance to escape Mowbray House.
I’ll sack the first footman or maid who opens their mouth about this.
He came to his father and, bending, gently attempted to prize the bottle out of the duke’s grasp.
“I don’t think you need any more of this, Your Grace. A terrible hangover is not going to make this any easier to deal with come morning.”
To his relief, the duke let go of the bottle. Lifting his head once more, he met Gideon’s eyes through the strands of his overgrown fringe. The Duchess of Mowbray normally cut her husband’s hair. The months of her extended absence were reflected in his long, messy pale brown and gray mop. “Why are you home? You were going to a ball.”
“I was out. Richard came and found me.”
“He didn’t need to do that. This is my problem. None of you children should be involved.”
At the age of six and twenty, Gideon had long stopped considering himself a child. Even the youngest Kembal offspring, Lady Coco, was eighteen years of age and out in society. The family nursery had lain empty for many years.
Gideon surveyed the scene, unsure as to what he should do next. Taking a spot on the floor next to his father seemed the obvious solution. From there, he could offer support and comfort.
But I have a feeling that is the last thing he needs right now.
A shoulder to cry on wouldn’t begin to deal with the problem—not that Gideon was entirely sure what the problem actually was. Richard had said that their mother and sister were not coming home. That in and of itself was a preposterous notion. His brother had to have things wrong.
Yet his father’s actions seemed to imply otherwise.
Richard said there was a note.
“Do you have the letter from Mama, and could I possibly read it?” Gideon asked. If he could see what his mother had written, then he would have a better understanding of what the family was facing.
The two of them do take great delight in conducting dramatic fights. This might just be another one. Please let it be that simple.
The duke rummaged in his jacket pocket and produced a letter. He held it out to Gideon. “It’s all in there. Every horrible word she wrote. I just don’t understand why.”
With a growing sense of unease, Gideon unfolded the paper. His gaze roamed over the words. His brain registeredheartbrokenanduncaring.He flinched atbetrayal.But the sentence which had his heart in his mouth included the wordsseparate lives.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered.
“That’s exactly where I am right this minute—in hell,” replied the duke.
Gideon’s parents’ marriage had always been a fiery one. If there was a competition for spouse baiting and fighting, the Duke and Duchess of Mowbray would be reigning national champions. That had been the way of the Kembals all of Gideon’s life. His parents had massive rows, but then again, they also spent long periods sequestered in their private apartments while they made up after those arguments.
Passionatewas the word which the duke and duchess often used to describe their marriage. Gideon and the rest of the Kembal progeny would probably have thoughtdangerously unhingedwas closer to the truth.
