Authors: Tracy Goodwin
“So it’s better to ruin his afternoon?” Victoria arched her brow.
Gwen froze in mid-step. “Point well taken.” She then caught sight of a vivid yellow rose bush. “What do you think of yellow roses?”
Tori shook her head in opposition then surveyed the vibrant bushes. “I think white roses are a better peace offering.”
“Brilliant! White it is, then.” Gwen crouched before the blooming white roses as Tori walked over to a patch of multi-colored tulips.
“What do you think of a bouquet for …” Tori’s voice trailed as something drew her attention away from the patch of bright blooms. “Gwen, isn’t that your father?”
Gwen whipped her head in the direction of Victoria’s gaze, her heart sinking at the sight of his determined features. “Yes, it is.”
“He doesn’t appear happy, does he?” Tori turned to Gwen, her features clouded with uneasiness.
A feeling of foreboding crept up Gwen’s spine as she studied her father’s stern expression. “No, he most certainly does not.”
Her eyes surveyed him. His cheeks were pink, his eyes were bright and his walk was brusque. The picture of robust health, he carried a book of some sort in his right hand.
Gwen stood, shaking her skirts before walking towards her father, her tone airy. “Good
morning, Papa. I was just clipping some flowers for you.”
Her father hadn’t yet acknowledged her, Gwen noticed. Instead, the man continued to walk toward her, his expression resembling that of a messenger of doom.
“How are you feeling this morning, Papa?
He gave her a toothy, insincere smile. “I am wonderful, as I’m presenting your wedding gift to you before I depart for Scotland.”
“You’re leaving Ainsley?” Gwen’s brow furrowed, before asking, “When?”
“This afternoon. Norris is staying behind per my instructions as I have ordered the estate to be closed indefinitely.” His words lingered before he added, “I have no desire to ever return.”
“But why?” she asked, a frown deepening in her forehead as her pace quickened. Even before the words were out of her mouth, she predicted that his answer would be unpleasant.
Her father halted in mid-step. “Why would I ever want to return here?”
Warning bells rang in Gwen’s ears as she attempted to process the information her father was providing her. “Papa, you needn’t leave because of my marriage to Sebastian.”
Lachlan’s intense stare shot from his daughter to Victoria, raking the young woman from head to foot with his disapproval. “Leave us.”
“Papa! This is Victoria’s home. You cannot speak to her in that manner.”
Gwen turned to her sister-in-law and her gaze drifted to the handful of tulips the young
woman was now clutching in a death-grip, noting that their stems were about to snap.
“Victoria, darling, why don’t you return to the house and put those in a vase?” Gwen’s tone was much calmer than she truly felt.
Tori placed her hand on her sister-in-law’s arm, “Are you sure you want me to leave you?”
“I’m certain.” Gwen patted Victoria’s hand and smiled in an attempt to reassure the young woman.
Tori walked, her pace slow, as she headed toward the house. Stopping when she reached a large shrub to crouch down behind its leaves, she peered around the manicured edge.
Gwen noticed her sister-in-law’s presence and steered her father farther into the garden maze of shrubbery.
Once Victoria was out of earshot, Gwen’s tone hardened. “What is this about?”
“Let’s walk,” Lachlan commanded, linking his arm with hers.
Her father’s stride was brusque. He appeared more robust with each solid step. Gwen’s tone became overwrought. “What is the meaning of this, Papa?”
“Don’t you know?” Lachlan’s tone was scornful.
Gwen’s heart hardened as realization sunk in. Tristan had told her on many occasions that their father was faking his illness. Her mind now shrieked that her brother had been correct all along.
“You were never sick, were you?” It was more a conclusion than a question.
“At last you show some smarts!” Lachlan
released his daughter’s arm and applauded. “Brava! I was beginning to wonder how a child of mine could be so impossibly stupid.”
His harsh words slashed through her like the sharp blades of a hundred knives. “Why did you lie to me?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” Lachlan surveyed his daughter with an expression of disdain, his hands on his hips.
“It was the only way you could convince me to marry Keir.” Even as the words escaped from her lips, she was in a state of disbelief.
“Yes,” he mocked. “There is some intelligence in you after all.”
Gwen’s expression hardened, anger leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “Why was it so important to you that I marry Keir?”
“You’re doing so well putting the pieces together,” Lachlan grinned at her then glanced towards the path that led to the main house before continuing. “Perhaps I should let you answer this question, as well?”
“Stop toying with me! Haven’t you played enough games?” Gwen struggled to keep her anger in check. “Why did you do it?”
Her father resumed walking, although slower this time. He skulked farther into the garden maze. Gwen had no choice but to follow.
“It was past time he became part of our family. Using you was merely a method to accomplish my goal,” her father said in a monotone voice.
“Using me? I loved you, Papa. I trusted you!”
“Don’t you dare prattle on about
love
and
trust
,”
He paused for a breath. “You loved me so much that you defied me and let that scoundrel bed you.” His last words dripped with venom.
Gwen’s jaw dropped, her mind reeling. It was all she could do to assimilate her father’s hateful accusation.
“I probably shouldn’t have said that.” He spoke in a scornful manner, adding, “After all, I don’t believe there was a bed involved.”
She backed away from him, heat rushing to her cheeks. “You dare accuse me of bedding a man outside of marriage? I’m not some harlot.”
“Let me correct you, my dear. You are no ordinary harlot. You’re a harlot who now happens to be a duchess.” Her father’s upbeat tone told Gwen he was enjoying tormenting her far too much. “In less than nine months the rest of polite society will see you as I do.”
“You are insane!” Gwen shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind. “Is this why Colin left us? Did he know you were mad?”
“Colin learned the truth about his birth and ran like a rabbit. What a coward he is.” Her father surveyed her with an icy stare. “I wonder how you’ll react when you learn the same truth he did.”
“And pray tell, what truth could you, the king of deceit and manipulations, possibly share with me?”
Lachlan laughed. It was a sick, eerie sound.
“Truth number one, my dear – Colin isn’t my son.”
Gwen stumbled. “You can’t be serious.”
Her father crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m dead serious.”
“Then if you aren’t his father, who is?” she demanded.
“You shall learn all the gory details in due time,” Lachlan chided. “First I must share that, in my heart, I have only one child and that’s not Colin, Tristan or you.”
Gwen knew to whom her father referred. It had long been obvious to her that he loved Keir like a son.
“Ah, yes, you refer to Keir.” She didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm. “That comes as no surprise to any of us. You always treated him better than any of your own children.”
“He is my son, you fool!” His voice boomed louder than a thunderclap.
She turned away from her father’s heated glare as bile rose in her throat.
Keir is my half-brother?
As impossible as it seemed, Gwen’s mind insisted it was true. It explained why her father had always been so partial to him.
“Dear God, you were going to make me marry my own brother?” Her ears were ringing.
“Of course,” he said, as if it was obvious. “He is your half-brother, after all.”
“Why would you want me to marry your bastard son?”
“So he would have what should have been his,” he hissed.
Gwen clamped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to squelch the queasiness that was threatening to overcome her. “Does he know?”
“What does it matter? He has lusted after you
ever since you became a woman.”
“You are insane.” Gwen wanted nothing more than to flee from this monster in front of her, the same monster whom she once loved and for whom she came very close to sacrificing her own happiness.
While dozens of questions swirled in her head, one thing was certain.
She no longer had a father.
At the very least, Gwen decided, she would ascertain the entire truth. “Why bring me to England and concoct this elaborate charade? Why not hold the wedding ceremony in Scotland?”
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
“Answer me!” She balled her hands into tight fists at her sides, her nails causing pain where they dug into her flesh.
“Women are such nuisances,” her father drawled. “Keir’s mother wouldn’t allow the marriage. Before she could spill our secret to you, I brought you here. I couldn’t allow her to spoil my plan, could I?”
Gwen’s heartbeat was now pounding against her temples.
Lachlan laughed – a throaty, demented sound – before continuing. “Once married, you would have returned to Scotland as the Earl of Stratton’s wife. Then his mother could no longer interfere. At least it wouldn’t matter, even if she tried. The die would have been cast.”
“So, you removed me from her interference and placed me in the path of my husband?” The irony of the situation failed to escape her notice.
“He proved to be quite a threat. I underestimated him and overestimated you, it seems.” Lachlan sneered. “I think I was overconfident from the many years that I succeeded in keeping everyone in their proper places.”
Proper places?
Anger pulsated within Gwen’s veins. “What were we, pawns in your delusional game of familial chess? You thought you could move us from square to square and force us to play?”
Lachlan’s only response was an incensed grumble.
Gwen turned her back on her father, sickened by the sight of him. They stood next to a honeysuckle bush, the heady perfume burning her nostrils. She knew the scent would forever make her want to retch.
“How do you know he’s your son?” She clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, her father was incorrect.
“Keir’s mother and the late earl tried without success to conceive an heir. I hate to brag but it didn’t take long for me to succeed where he failed. Her husband provided Keir with a name and title, but it is my blood that pumps through his veins.”
“Did Mama know of your affair?” Gwen’s stomach churned at the thought of her poor mother and all the years she spent loving this man, devoting her life to him, only to be betrayed.
“Your mother had her own secrets, which brings me to your wedding gift.”
She faced him once more, her gaze flashing undiluted rage, “As if I’d accept anything from
you.”
Lachlan glanced at the leather bound journal in his hands. He traced his thumb along the spine. “You’ll accept this. It’s one of many journals I brought you today. I gave the others to your butler before I came looking for you. They belonged to your mother.”
On the outside it seemed like such a thoughtful gift yet, as Gwen learned today, her father had sharp talons. She stood stock-still, waiting for him to strike. It didn’t take long.
“Remember when I told you that Colin isn’t my son?” he taunted her.
Gwen’s chest constricted as she fought to keep her anger in check.
“Here is the proof.” He held up the journal. “You’re so much like your mother, you see. She, too, was a trollop although I had married her before I learned the truth.”
“Shut up!” Gwen’s rage exploded. She punched her father’s chest with her fists. “Don’t you dare say another word against Mama.”
Lachlan grabbed one of her wrists with his free hand, twisting her body violently against his. “Did you honestly think you’re the only woman who let a man with the Davenport title seduce you?”
“You are demented!” She jerked away from him then began retracing her steps, hurrying out of the maze.
Lachlan clamped his daughter’s arm and swung her to face him, his fingers curling into her flesh causing her to wince in pain.
“You are no better than I am,” Lachlan raged.
His eyes bulged while his unkempt hair whipped about in the breeze. “You shamed me when you went whoring with that blackguard. You let him plant his seed in you when you were living in my home, sleeping under your ancestors’ roof.”
“Why do you keep accusing me of such sordid things, you wicked man?” Gwen struggled to break free of his grasp, causing her father to squeeze her wrist tighter. She cried out in pain.
“Stop struggling,” he reprimanded. “I know the sordid details because your husband, the noble Duke, told me.”
She pounded her free fist against his chest as she struggled to break free of his grasp. “Sebastian would never say such a thing,” she shouted, her eyes ablaze. “He’s not a liar like you.”
“Silly, silly girl,” Lachlan shook her. “What do you think he said to make me consent to your marriage? If it weren’t for your lack of self control, you’d be married to the man I chose for you instead of some no good rake.”
His nails dug deeper into her wrist, his words hitting her like a blast of cold air. “At first I was going to pass the child off as Keir’s but then I found out how far along you were and was forced to consent.”
Gwen began to shake, her rage boiling. “Take your hands off of me.”
When her father didn’t release her, Gwen’s voice became frenzied. “Release me this instant or I will scratch, claw, bite, and kick – anything to force you let go of me. I swear to God I will.”
Her father must have noted the change within
her for he released Gwen with such force that she fell to the ground. She rose immediately and began to trek back out of the maze and toward the house, aware of her father’s footsteps crunching in the gravel close behind her.
Her mind was jumbled like pieces of a disassembled puzzle. She considered the possibility that Sebastian had fibbed to her father about her delicate condition. After all, it was Sebastian who brought about her father’s change of mind.