The Third Son (3 page)

It wasn’t that he didn’t like women, he actually loved most women. He loved the pleasant lilt of a lady’s tinkling voice
,
their sweet smelling fragrances, and the other obvious pleasures to be found with them.
Damien particularly appreciated
long legs, an ample bosom and a firm behind. He loved all of these things, as he
did fine
cigars and fine horseflesh.
Y
et he had never loved anyone.

Damien couldn’t say he’d ever
experienced the emotion he often read about in books of poetry.
Not once
had a woman sent his heart racing. Davina certainly pleased him, but
all that existed between them was
sheer lust.

He was reluctant to end their association. Davina had been the consummate mistress. She was beautiful,
well practiced
in the ways of pleasing a man in the bedroom
and
knew exactly what to do to set his blood racing.
Davina
was also demanding and spoiled, but Damien didn’t mind as long as his own needs were met. She had certainly cost him a great deal of money, he mused, reminding himself to stop by the jewelers the next day to buy some sort of trinket to worm his way back into her good graces.

He would have to end things with her soon, though.
Damien
had sensed for some time that Davina was becoming too attached, expecting certain things from him that he would never be able to offer her. He had never had a relationship with a woman end badly and he knew that this
one
would be no different. He would simply settle an obscene amount of money on her, allow her to keep the townhouse and carriage he had provided and all would be well. Women like Davina always landed on their feet.
T
hen what, he wondered?

The very thought of selecting another mistress caused him to groan inwardly. The process had become tedious, almost boring. Hell, maybe he was ready to settle down. He shook the thought away before it could take root too firmly in his mind. What a ridiculous notion, marriage! Marriage had never made anyone he knew very happy. His parents were a prime example of why the institution should be avoided all together.

Some small part of him did crave more, though, and he knew that someday he would find himself leg-shackled. He was grateful that unlike his oldest brother, heir to the throne, Damien would most likely be allowed to marry whenever and whomever he chose.

When his attentions finally snapped back to the card game, Damien realized that several hands passed and he lost heavily. He swallowed the last of the amber liquid from the bottom of his glass and stood.

“Gentlemen, if you will excuse me,” he said, laying the amount he had lost in the middle of the table. 

“A bit tired this evening?” snickered Blackwater, taking up his share of the winnings. Wingate sniggered and Huffington grinned. Damien’s coat and walking stick appeared before he could even turn from the table. He was followed into the night by chuckles and bawdy jokes.
Damien
stepped out into the cool evening air just as his driver was coming up the lane. He signaled the driver and was soon nestled in the spacious conveyance on his way home.

“Your grace, your brother wishes to see you in the green parlor, immediately.”

Damien had just tossed his coat and walking stick to the nearest footman and was making a beeline for the nearest staircase
.
, when he was hailed by Jarvis, the butler. Damien stopped, one foot on the bottom stair and turned. Jarvis stood, his face expressionless, staunch and steadfast as he always. He had been at Largess Hall since the king himself
was
young and was considered more of a family member than a servant.

“Which brother?” Damien asked, already knowing the answer.

“Prince Lionus, your grace.”

Damien frowned. Whatever could Lionus want with him at this hour? He could only guess what it would be and Damien was in no mood for a tongue lashing. 

“Jarvis, please inform his grace that I am unavailable at this ungodly hour and whatever lectures he has prepared are best saved till tomorrow afternoon.”

“That won’t be necessary, Jarvis,” boomed a voice from the doorway to the green parlor. Damien stifled a groan. There would be no escaping him now.

“Come Damien,” Lionus
demanded
before disappearing back through the glass double doors. Damien raised his brow at Jarvis, who smothered a chuckle behind his white-gloved hand, before he followed
his brother
into the parlor. 

“Where the devil have you been?” Lionus thundered as soon as the door was closed behind him.

Damien studied his oldest brother, who was so different
from
he. Where Damien was broad with chiseled features, Lionus was slender with more angular features. Damien was the very image of their father, whereas Lionus had gotten his looks from
the queen
. He possessed Queen Alexandra’s straight brown hair, which he wore long, as was the fashion, secured at the back of his head by an ornate silver clasp. He was a good two inches taller than Damien, his long limbs enhancing the slimness of his frame. Dark brows arched over deep blue eyes lending his face a sharp appearance, almost like that of a hawk.
H
e very much looked as if Damien were his prey this evening.

Lionus crossed his arms over his chest and stared pointedly at Damien, waiting for an answer. 

“How good you are at commanding, brother,” Damien said dryly, helping himself to a splash of brandy from the decanter on the sideboard. “What a fine king you shall make.”

“You have not answered my question
.
”

Damien took a healthy swallow of his brandy before pulling a cigar from the small case in his coat pocket. He lit the cigar and inhaled deeply. “I haven’t answered your question because it seems irrelevant to me, when I know that no matter where I tell you I have been you will find a way to disapprove.”

“You are damn right I disapprove. If you have not been rutting on top of that woman you insist on carrying on with, then you’ve been gambling or drinking. I would not be surprised if it were all three.”

Damien smiled. “How shrewd,” he said mockingly, pouring another glass of brandy.

“Have you no sense of decency? No pride? Could you not at least be discreet?”

Damien sighed
. H
e had known the reason for this little meeting and was now wishing that he had continued up the damn stairs. 

“You are a disgrace,” Lionus continued, pacing before the roaring fireplace like a caged lion. “You are an embarrassment to this family, to the crown!”

“What you mean, dear brother, is that I am an embarrassment to you.”

“You’re damn right you are! Is it too much to ask that you conduct yourself in a manner fitting your status?”

Damien stood. “If that is all Lionus, I believe I shall take my leave of you. I know how you so love to chastise me, but I find that I haven’t the stomach for it at three o’clock in the morning.”

“That’s not why I called you in here,” said Lionus to Damien’s retreating back. “There has been another attempt on father’s life.”

Damien whirled and crossed the room in three quick strides before grasping Lionus by his lapels and lifting him almost clear off the ground, no easy feat considering the difference between them in height. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place, damn you!”

Lionus shoved away from Damien, straightening his
well-starched
shirt collar. Fiery green eyes met cold blue ones, as the two brothers charged at each other like two raging bulls. This was the way their brother, Serge, found them when he entered the parlor.

“Stop it, both of you!” he said gently but firmly as he slammed the parlor doors behind him. “You’re acting like idiots.”

Serge grasped each brother by the shoulder and took his place where he had been born, in between them. Damien’s fraternal twin brother was older than him by mere minutes. As the middle brother, he was often the balance between Lionus’ sober brooding and Damien’s devil-may-care attitude. He was calm and good-natured,
usually
smiling and both brothers loved him for it.

Serge was in the middle in regards to his appearance as well. His broad stature was similar to Damien’s, as were his chiseled features and pouting lips.
Serge’s
hair was a shade between brown and blonde, a much less intense shade than his brother‘s shock of golden locks. He kept his hair cropped short, in the less fashionable style, as did Damien. His eyes, though, were nearly identical to Lionus‘, as were the slashing dark brows above them. 

“If we are going to get the bottom of this,” Serge continued, “we do not have time for the two of you to come to blows again.”

Damien tore his fury-filled gaze away from Lionus’ and walked back to the sideboard. “Brandy?” he offered Serge. He filled both glasses generously, ignoring Lionus’ disapproving glare. Serge accepted the glass and took a healthy swallow.

“Would one of you care to tell me what exactly happened?” Damien demanded. This would be the third attempt on their father’s life in the past couple of months. No clear motive had been discovered and they were no closer to uncovering the reasons behind this plot than they
’d
been after the first attempt.

“A man tried to enter father’s chambers and stab him in his sleep,” replied Serge. “We would never have known he was here if Jarvis had not seen him sneaking through the servant’s entrance.” 

“Was he captured?”

Lionus nodded. “He’s being held in the dungeons along with the other two. He has been questioned and his story is nearly identical to the others. A masked man promised an insane amount of money in exchange for father’s life. He gave these men no other means to contact them, but promised to deliver the money as soon as word of father’s death reached him.”

“This is insane,” Serge sighed. “Why would someone want to murder our father? Why would someone attempt to kill a man who is already dying?”

It was no secret that the great king Adare had been fighting a mysterious illness for years. In the past six months
,
his condition had rapidly worsened and he was not expected to live much longer. Damien shook his head. “The doctor
s say he has been much improved,
” he protested.

“The doctors are telling us what they think we want to hear,” Lionus countered, practical as always. “He has his good and bad days, but the reality of his illness is set in stone.” 

“Perhaps father is only the first step in this plot,” said Serge thoughtfully, pacing before the fireplace. “We should consider the possibility that this could be a plot against our entire family.”

“Then we are all in danger,” Lionus said solemnly, raking his fingers through the loose tendrils of hair that had fallen stubbornly into his face.

“We should question the prisoners again,” said Damien. “We need more details about this masked man, where he might be located and a possible reason behind these attacks.”

Serge nodded. “We should bring the three of them together and compare their stories. There has to be more to this than what they’ve given us.”

Lionus nodded decisively, yanking on the bell cord to summon Jarvis. “In the meantime, the level of security at Largess Hall will be greatly increased. We will not underestimate this villain until we know exactly what he is capable of.”

As the first-born, Lionus was general of Cardenas’ army and navy and was well trained in the art of tactical warfare
. The
second in line, Serge would take over these duties once Lionus was crowned king.

Jarvis had long since entered the room and Lionus nodded to indicate that he was to listen carefully to the following orders. “No one is to enter father’s chambers with the exception of the three of us, mother, Jarvis, the doctors when they come to examine him and the priest. I will be posting guards at every entrance, in every wing, as well as outside each of our doors in the evenings. Jarvis, you are to choose a select group of servants
,
be sure to choose those who have been here longest and are least likely to be a part of some foul plot. I trust your judgment completely. We will need about ten or so. Those select few will be allowed to attend us all personally. All others are forbidden from all personal wings of this house and will attend to their duties in the other common areas of the palace.”

“As you wish, Your Grace,” said Jarvis soberly with a bow. Damien had no doubt that Jarvis would treat this undertaking as seriously and he and his brothers would. 

Serge stood and stretched. “It seems that we have accomplished all that we can for one night,” he said with a wide yawn. “If there’s nothing else, I’m tired. See you in the morning.”

Lionus waved his heavily ringed hand in dismissal. Damien followed Serge from the parlor, parting ways with him at the staircase. He entered his dimly lit wing of the palace and shoved open the door to his chambers. A fire roared in the darkened sitting room where Damien flopped onto a black oversized couch. He took up the newly filled decanter of brandy on the side table and took a healthy swallow.
As he reclined against the sofa, he relished
the warmth of the liquor as it spread from his middle with outstretched tentacles to the chilled regions of his body.