You Can't Always Get the Marquess You Want (38 page)

“You are an honorable man. However, your father is correct,” she said, and her lips trembled as she tried not to cry. “Norgrave lied. He is not your father, and Tempest is not your half sister.”

“Have I ever given you a reason to doubt that I am your father?” the duke shouted at him, and Mathias winced. His doubts had hurt his father's feelings.

“No, sir.” Mathias shook his head. “There was a note of sincerity in his eyes when he mentioned Mother that convinced me he was telling the truth. He spoke of love and loss. Of betrayal, and how Father scarred him during their fight.”

The duchess's head shot up. She stared into her son's eyes. “Your father didn't give him the scar on his cheek. I did.” She exchanged a quiet look with his father, and then she leaned forward until her lips were an inch from his ear. “I don't want you to say anything. Just close your eyes and listen.”

Mathias dutifully shut his eyes, and his mother shared how she had been tricked by Norgrave into visiting the house he currently resided in with his cousin. More than twenty-four years had passed, but he could hear the pain in her voice as she told him what happened in the bedchamber that had been destroyed in a fire set by Blackbern years later.

Even though it cost her to speak of such intimate and humiliating details with her son, she wanted him to understand who the true villain was that day so he could see that any sentiment the marquess harbored in his heart regarding the lady he had brutalized was false. His goal had been to create doubt between father and son, and divide the Rooke family. He also was determined to end Tempest's marriage to Mathias by any means.

His mother pulled back so she could observe her son's reaction when she said, “Initially, I feared I might be carrying Norgrave's child after his attack. He had planted the fear in my head, and when I realized I was indeed with child.” She blinked back tears and shook her head. “Your father—Blackbern, never had a doubt. Not once. His belief was unflagging, and when you were born and I held you in my arms, I knew he was right. You could never be Norgrave's son. I swear it.”

Mathias brought his hands to his face. His family had kept secrets. At first it had been done to protect her, and later it had been done out of love to spare him and his siblings the painful truth. Their silence had also given Tempest and her siblings a measure of peace.

No one wanted to believe that their father had the capacity for true evil.

He let his hands fall away and embraced his mother. He held her as she cried, and he stared at his father, his face filling with remorse.

Blackbern acknowledged his silent apology with a curt nod.

“You need to find your wife, Mathias,” his father said, his voice raw and gruff from emotion. “Do whatever it takes to convince her that Norgrave lies to trick her into marrying this Warrilow fellow.”

“Will you go with me?” His mother stiffened at the question, so he appealed to his father. “You have already spoken out against the marriage. Tempest left me convinced you and Mother are against our marriage because everything her father revealed is true. If both of you stand with me and openly challenge Norgrave's claims, she will believe us.”

Her father's confession had devastated her, but Mathias knew Tempest was too stubborn to give up on them so easily. Almost from the beginning, she had trusted him—and found the courage to love him.

“We will help you,” his mother said, her voice soft and apprehensive about their impending confrontation.

It was time to put an end to Norgrave's machinations and bring his wife home.

 

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Norgrave and Blackbern had not spoken a kind word to each other in twenty-four years.

Mathias doubted their confrontation would change anything this evening.

Nevertheless, the Duke and Duchess of Blackbern stood beside their eldest son while Lord Norgrave stood alone at the base of his staircase. He didn't have a sword or a pistol in his hand as he stared at his unwelcomed guests. To add further insult, the marquess had not invited them upstairs to his formal drawing room or even into his library.

He wanted them to leave, but Mathias refused to walk out of the town house unless Tempest went with him.

“Blackbern, the gossipmongers will be wagging their tongues come morning when they learn that you called on me,” Norgrave said, sensing he had the upper hand since the Rooke family had willingly entered the lion's den.

“I owe your daughter an apology,” his father said; his stance looked as if he were relaxed, but Mathias knew differently.

“I have been waiting for an apology from you for twenty-four years,” Norgrave said, managing to sound peevish, even though he had not offered one of his own.

“And I am content to keep you waiting,” Blackbern said, his voice sharpening. “Tempest, on the other hand, does not deserve our condemnation for a past not of her making or the sins of her sire. Send one of your servants upstairs to fetch her so my wife and I can make amends, and then we will be on our way.”

“A pity,” the marquess drawled. “I was about to offer you refreshments.”

“You are a gracious host, Lord Norgrave,” his mother said, even though he could only guess what it cost her to be civil to a gentleman who had once been cruel and abusive to her. Mathias's estimation of the duchess increased tenfold. “I had hoped that I might pay my respects to your wife.”

Lord Norgrave grinned, sensing they were playing some kind of game, but no one had told him the rules. “I regret my marchioness has been indisposed, but I will pass along your kind words.”

“Excellent.” His mother placed her hand on Blackbern's coat sleeve, an unspoken reminder of her loyalties. “And tell Lady Norgrave that I will pray for a speedy recovery. When I spoke to her at Lady Karmack's, your lady appeared to be in good health. I hope it will continue.”

Lord Norgrave's expression grew contemplative. “I was unaware that you and Charlotte exchanged words recently.”

“Well, I expected it will happen more often now that our son and your daughter have married,” the duchess said her voice infused with feigned lightness. She glanced at Mathias and some of the stiffness in her expression eased.

“Chance?”

Mathias stared up at the top of the stairs in time to see Tempest descending with her mother. Her face bore evidence that she had been crying, but she appeared composed. “What are you doing here?” Her gaze slid to the Duke and Duchess of Blackbern with undisguised curiosity and wariness.

“Can we speak in private?” Mathias inquired, and inwardly flinched when she shook her head.

Lord Norgrave stepped forward to prevent Mathias from approaching his daughter. “Since everyone has agreed that an annulment is the sensible course, I think it is unwise for you and Tempest to be unchaperoned.”

“Do you honestly think you can stop me from speaking privately with my wife?”

A door opened and Marcroft joined their small gathering.

“Is there a problem, Fairlamb?” his new brother-in-law asked, silently noting the swelling and discoloration on Mathias's face. At his father's command, the earl would gladly add a few more bruises.

“No, as long as your father steps aside so I can properly greet my wife,” he replied, daring him or any other member of the Brant family to deny him his rights as Tempest's husband.

Movement caught his attention, and Mathias noticed that Arabella was slowly descending the stairs and stood next to her mother. She appeared to be bemused to find Rookes standing in the front hall. “Good heavens! Are we celebrating Tempest's marriage to Chance?”

“No,” Lord Norgrave snapped.

“Why not? After all, it seems appropriate,” Lady Norgrave countered. She nodded to the butler standing in the background. “Starling, bring up a few bottles of wine from the cellar while I escort our guests up to the drawing room.”

“See here, Charlotte,” he said, raising his arm when Tempest reached the bottom of the staircase. “Blackbern and his wife are leaving. There is no reason to invite them upstairs. And you—Tempest—I will not have you—”

Tempest stepped out of reach and walked over to greet her new in-laws. Pride swelled within Mathias's chest as his wife defied her father and curtsied. “Your Graces, I would be honored if you joined me and my family in the drawing room.”

His father managed to startle Tempest when he clasped her hand and bowed over it. “We will accept your gracious invitation, if you will allow me to welcome you to our family.”

“There's no reason to waste your breath on pleasantries, Blackbern, when the marriage will be annulled within a week,” Lord Norgrave said, drawing Tempest away from the duke.

“I would not wager on the outcome,” Mathias said, claiming Tempest's other hand. “Now if you would be so kind to release my wife's hand so I may speak with her alone.”

Lord Norgrave scowled at Mathias. “We had an agreement.”

“Only if you told me the truth—something I am told you are unfamiliar with,” Mathias said, not bothering to conceal his annoyance as he slipped his arm around Tempest's waist and pulled her away from her father.

“Chance?” There was no hesitation as she moved into his arms, her expression filled with curiosity and hope.

“What is Fairlamb talking about, Father?” Marcroft asked.

Lord Norgrave glared at Blackbern. “Will you shut him up or shall I?”

“Remaining silent is the reason why your lies almost succeeded in destroying your daughter and my son's happiness,” the duke replied, his anger toward the marquess barely leashed. “Is that what you were counting on? That Chance would be so horrified by your revelation that his shame would prevent him from confronting us while you swiftly secured an annulment for your daughter so she could marry this Warrilow character?”

“Father?”

“Later, Croft,” the marquess bellowed at his son.

“Yes, Norgrave, why don't you tell Marcroft how you tried to convince me that I, too, am your son because you forced yourself on my mother because she fell in love with your closest friend,” Mathias said, his voice thick with disgust. “How you were willing to let Tempest believe that she had married her half brother so you could manipulate her into a loveless marriage because it benefited you.”

Arabella gasped. Beside her, Lady Norgrave did not appear shocked by the news. Perhaps she had already deduced what her husband had done to convince Tempest to leave Mathias.

Everyone seemed frozen.

Marcroft stared at his father in angry disbelief.

Mathias was startled by the grim amusement that rose within him. He silently wondered if it was the father's dark nature that troubled the earl or the realization that he might have been forced to acknowledge a gentleman he had spent half his life despising as a half brother.

“Chance, how can we be certain?” Tempest demanded.

“Your father lied, love,” Mathias said, needing to relieve the torment and uncertainty he saw in her eyes.

Tempest glanced over her shoulder and stared at the Duchess of Blackbern. “He told the truth about your mother. That they had been lovers.”

His mother covered her mouth with her hand and sobbed.

“They were
never
lovers, Tempest. Norgrave attacked Imogene,” the duke said, taking a threatening step toward his former friend. “To punish me and her, and I will never forgive him for it.”

Mathias did not want to release Tempest, but he could not count on Marcroft to step in if his father decided to renew his friendship with Norgrave by engaging in fisticuffs.

Tempest brought her hands to her face. “Don't you see, Chance, it does not matter which version of what happened we choose to believe. My father may be right. You could be his son.”

“No!”

Everyone turned at the duchess's vehement cry of denial.

His mother walked toward them. “Norgrave has an impressive proficiency at subterfuge,” she said, casting a brief contemptuous look in his direction before dismissing him. Sadness etched her face as she held Tempest's tearful gaze. “That means you cannot trust him. However, I have no reason to lie to you. Chance is Blackbern's son. There is no reason why you cannot love my son and build a life with him.” She offered her daughter-in-law a wistful smile. “Have children. Do not let your doubts destroy what you have found with him.”

“Tempest, I love you,” Norgrave said, his voice gruff. “I am only trying to protect you from getting your heart broken.”

Tempest stared helplessly at Mathias, and he longed to strangle the marquess for not giving his daughter the words that would ease her concerns.

“Daughter, Imogene is telling you the truth,” Lady Norgrave announced, accepting that her betrayal would earn her husband's wrath. “I assume the timing was all wrong. It was the one thing my husband could not control. Do you not agree, Your Grace?”

“Yes,” his mother replied, struggling to maintain her composure. The duchess boldly walked up to Lord Norgrave while he observed her approach with an indulgent smile. It was gone fifteen seconds later when she slapped him. The crack of flesh meeting flesh echoed in the front hall.

“Ah, Starling,” the marchioness said cheerfully when she saw the servant holding several bottles of wine. “In your absence, our thirst has increased. A few more bottles will be required.”

“I need something stronger,” Marcroft muttered before he retreated into the library in search of a bottle of brandy.

Norgrave had the good sense to keep his mouth shut. Without a word, he disappeared into the library and shut the door.

Mathias pulled Tempest in the opposite direction when the marchioness encouraged everyone to follow her upstairs. Impulsively, he captured her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. “Do you know how many hours we have been apart, my lady?” Mathias asked. He lowered his voice for her ears alone. “I have missed you.”