Page 44 of Playing the Scoundrel

The only girl he might have wanted to marry wanted nothing to do with him, so now any desire to follow down the path of marriage had completely disappeared. “Too right you are.”

Father dropped his hand on the bed with a quiet fop. “Confound it! I'm dying, you great fool! All I want is this one thing. Can't you do the one thing I ask before I leave this world behind?”

“Apparently not, Father.” Henry suddenly leaned forward. “But why should I feel obligated to the man who only berated and ridiculed me my entire life when I am guilty only of not being my elder brother?”

The old man leaned back in his bed and closed his eyes. “You ungrateful child. I should cut you off completely.”

“You always say you will, and you never do. Why not just do it already? The sooner you do…”

Henry regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

Father nodded, opening his eyes. “The sooner you can be rid of me? You'll probably rejoice the day I die, won't you?”

“I don't wish you to die, Father.” Henry rubbed a hand over his face with a sigh. “I wish you to be a father to me, and not a heartless man determined to hate me.”

It was the most forthright Henry had been with his father in years. The man abhorred emotional displays of affection and told him they were not fit for a man. Tears and emotions were for women. But that left Henry with no outlet for his sorrow, to find empty happiness with countless women. Nothing would ever fill the hole left by his lost family, or his merciless father.

The old man did not respond. He stared at the ceiling from his bed in silence, until finally, he said, “I cannot change who I am.”

It was no use. Henry let out a sigh.

“Nor can I, Father. So we’re at an impasse. Either you accept me for who I am, that I am Henry and not Edgar, or you will die alone.”

Then without another word, Henry stormed out of the house, heart heavier than when he arrived.

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