“Still, to speak of someone like this…”
“It is neither here nor there. She is dead and gone, and that is all there is to it.” What a horrid old man he was.
“But my boys, ah.” His voice softened.
“The twins?”
“Edward and George.” He pressed a spindly hand over his heart. “George was the oldest. He was to become the next duke.” He closed his eyes as he talked. “Both were such lively, bright, intelligent boys. Disobedient and contrary to the bone. Devil’s spawn, full of nonsense and mischief, cosseted by an overindulging mother.” He opened his eyes. “I tried to beat it out of them but only achieved the opposite.” There was a long pause as the old man stared off into nothing.
“Yes? So George was the heir,” Arabella prompted. She’d forgotten her tea as she listened breathlessly.
“The stupid boy ran away to the war. One of those useless French revolutionary wars and promptly got himself killed.” The duke shook his head as if he still did not believe it. “And Edward. He went and married a laundry maid.” He moaned as if that pained him physically.
“Wait. Are we talking about Philip’s father?”
“Yes. Philip’s mother was a common rat in the gutter.” He almost threw down the second cup of tea, and it splashed on the tablecloth.
“Well, let’s just say he married beneath his station?”
The duke ground his teeth. “It was a mésalliance of the highest order. He did it only to spite me. I nearly disinherited him. But I have forgiven him because the union brought forth Philip.” His entire face lit up. “He’s been the sun in my life.”
When the old man smiled, Arabella could see how handsome he must have been once. She could also see the family resemblance. He had the same high cheekbones and forehead as Philip.
Arabella shook her head. She still couldn’t believe it. “So Philip’s mother is a commoner. What happened to them?”
“Edward died in an accident when the boy was seven. The gutter rat raised him and instilled in him working-class ethics, as well as a pronounced fear of me.” He sighed. “I am a wealthy man. So is Philip. He could be swimming in money. Instead, he prefers to be a blacksmith and tinker about with those —” He gestured with his hands. “Inventions. Bah. Yes, I know about those inventions. I have some influence in the patents office.” He revealed his yellow teeth as he grinned. Turning to Mrs Stanyon, he said, “Bring the box.”
She returned with a mahogany box and set it on his lap. It was filled with documents, designs, letters. Philip’s inventions. She recognised his sloppy handwriting.
“I have bought them all. He doesn’t know it, of course. He thinks the patents office has bought them.”
“But — but—”
“He thinks he’s been maintaining his livelihood with his own brain juice.” He cackled a laugh. “The reality is he is living off the money of his grandfather, after all.”
Good God. And here was Philip, thinking he had his inventions patented in an orderly fashion. Arabella jumped up.
“Sit down, Lady Arabella. It is but a little gratification for someone, a little something for me to know I have something to give to my grandson after all. Would you begrudge me that?”
“But not like this! He believes the patents office have granted him a patent!”
“Not the most ethical thing to do, I agree. But then, I am not an ethical man. I am, apparently, the consummation of everything that is evil.” He closed his eyes again. “Maybe he is right. Which accounts for why he wants nothing to do with me. It is impossible to erase that way of thinking once it has taken hold. He despises me for what I am. A duke.”
It was true, Philip was uncommonly proud of who he was. He loathed the upper classes.
“And now?”
Morley sighed. “Now, Philip has three wonderful children. Their mother used to bring them here once, twice maybe. But that was when they were still little. They do not know me. Philip is raising them to be working-class rats.” He turned to her. “Lady Arabella, would you agree that this is an intolerable situation?”
Arabella gripped her hands. “I won’t allow you to call them animals. They are lovely, well-behaved children, living a happy life, Your Grace.”
“Bah. Happy! Philip has a duty. When I kick the bucket, which is going to be very soon, mark you, he’s going to be the twenty-sixth Duke of Morley. Whether he wants to or not. He can run away to the farthest ends of the earth, and he will still be the twenty-sixth Duke of Morley. Little Robin, ah, what a bright, charming boy! Little Robin will be the twenty-seventh Duke of Morley. But Lady Arabella. Look at them. Look at them! No manners, no breeding whatsoever. No pride!” He groaned. “Not an inkling of awareness of who they really are.”
He turned to Arabella and there was agony on his face. “Philip refuses to see me. He denies my name, his own inheritance, his entire legacy. His fortune! He could eat each meal with a different set of golden cutleries if he wanted. I have an entire closet full of them. Instead, he prefers to eat poor man’s bread with his hands.”
The old man broke off and suddenly crumbled into a heap of misery.
“He won’t let me greet his children. My great-grandchildren! When I meet them on the street, he pretends we are strangers. What have I done to deserve such contrary, unnatural offspring,” he moaned and burst into tears.
