Page 34 of My Ruthless Duke
“Well, one afternoon, he waited until I brought the leftovers from my dinner up to my room to share them with the lamb, and my father was there with a butcher knife. He slaughtered him right in front of me. The blood stains never came out of the carpet. It had to be thrown out and burned in the yard.”
Cordelia could not breathe. It was so needlessly cruel. She could not imagine the effect that that must have had on him at such a young age. She could not stop herself from closing the distance between them, throwing her arms around him and pressing her chest against his back as she embraced him. He placed a single hand on her forearm, keeping her there softly.
“He said that I needed to be cured of my softness, no matter what it took. So, he dragged me through the house. I was sure that my arm was going to rip clear out of its socket. He took me into the greenhouse and threw me inside. Those chains on the door were the same ones that my father put on the doors all those years ago. Those doors had not been opened until the other night.”
Just when she thought that it could not possibly get any worse… it did. Horror consumed her.
Just what kind of a monster his father was?
“I was in that greenhouse for… I think five days without seeing a single soul. I drank water from the planters and tried to eat the plants after the first couple of days. Children are not much accustomed to being hungry like that. I eventually had to break open the walls to get out. I do not know what would have happened had I not broken myself free. I would not have been surprised if he intended for me to die there.”
“Dorian…” Cordelia trailed off. What was there to possibly say to such a thing? She could not process it.
“I injured myself on the way out and limped back into the house—where my father was serving lamb for dinner, of course.”
Her hands dropped over his torso, tracing over the scar on his abdomen. “Is that where this came from?”
Dorian froze for a moment, perhaps not expecting the question, and dipped his head in a tight nod. “I was but fourteen when he died.”
Cordelia’s ears perked at the information, and it felt like the air in the room thinned as she waited for him to continue speaking.
“I cannot remember why I was in the parlor with him, I remember him yelling, and how frightened I was that his temper was going to result in another beating. He had… hurled his drink into the fireplace and the glass had shattered.” Dorian trailed off for a moment, seemingly lost in the memory. “He had risen from his seat, screaming that I had forced him to make a mess, that I needed to clean it up… but there was glass all over the carpet and I did not wish to cut my knees. He towered in front of me, screaming until he was red in the face and then he had just… collapsed, gasping on the floor and clawing desperately at his chest.”
What was she supposed to say to that?
“He demanded that I help him… and the demanding turned to whispered pleading, and I just… stood there. I watched him take his very last breaths until I was sure that he could never hurt Mary or me again…”
“I am so, so sorry that that happened to you,” Cordelia said. It did not feel anywhere near sufficient of a thing to say for the magnitude of what he had just shared with her. She wished that she could make it better or somehow erase such a traumatic event from his memory.
“Yes, well. Now you know. The rumors spread about my father, and I simply never bothered to deny it. But I cannot stay here any longer,” Dorian said as he slid from her arms and left the room so swiftly it felt like he took all of the warmth in the room with him.
Chapter 17
“Mama, are you coming with me to my riding lesson this afternoon?” Georgie asked Mary over breakfast. They had increased the frequency of his riding lessons to accommodate more sessions over the week because his nephew seemed to have such an affinity for such things. He was a natural. If only Dorian could get him to show such dedication in his archery or swordsmanship, then perhaps he would have been on his way to becoming quite the accomplished young gentleman.
It had been a long time since he had gone to watch one of Georgie’s lessons himself. Perhaps if Mary was going as well, then it would be the perfect time to discuss a few things with her that he had been allowing to slide by. His sister was taking advantage of the fact that he had become so infatuated with the time he shared with his wife, and she spent too much time with Patrick Hislop.
“Not today, sweetheart, but perhaps I shall attend the one day after tomorrow?” Mary answered.
Georgie accepted the answer easily, turning back to his breakfast.
“How so? What are you doing this afternoon?” Dorian inquired, sipping at his black tea.
“Pardon?” Mary answered far too quickly, a blush forming over the apples of her cheeks.
“What could you possibly be doing that would prevent you from going with Georgie this afternoon?” Dorian continued, only glazing at his sister over the brim of his teacup before setting it back down.
“I… well, if you must know, Mr. Hislop is coming to call upon me this afternoon,” Mary said a touch too quickly to be considered casual.
Mary glanced at Cordelia with a curt nod of her head as if they were conspiring to keep knowledge from him.
“I am not sure if I like how casual you are with Mr. Hislop, Mary. It is starting to feel far too familiar with how often he is here. People will talk,” Dorian said as he reached for the paper. He knew enough about Patrick to know that he was nowhere near good enough for his sister. The last thing that he was going to allow was Mary to be put into a position where she could be hurtfor a second time by a subpar match. Furthermore, he would be extra selective about the sort of man that would be stepping into Georgie’s life. It would need to be somebody of the right sort of caliber, and he did not think that Mr. Hislop fit that bill.
“I am very fond of Pa–Mr. Hislop.” Mary countered stubbornly. She used a tone of voice that heavily implied that she was not going to be moved on the subject either.
“Is that right?” Dorian asked, putting the paper back down before he had the time to read a single article. Had not even glanced over the titles before he felt Mary’s irritation flung in his direction. “You deserve more than to settle for a man such as him.”
“Tell me, Brother, what sort of man do you imagine that a ruined, unmarried mother like myself is entitled to?”