Pieces began to fall in place. Created a picture with sickening clarity.
“That’s why Da hated me.” The words left Alaric numbly. “Because I was not his.”
“To avoid scandal, we all agreed to keep it a secret. The truth would have accompanied us to our graves if my son hadn’t died. After that, everything changed.” Tears leaked down Patrice’s cheeks, her voice bloated with grief and self-pity. “Henry and I tried, yet we couldn’t have another child, and that made him turn from me. Made him remember that he while he had no legitimate issue, he had a bastard with his blood. Without my consent, he made up his mind to take you—the spawn of a harlot—intoourhome.”
Alaric felt Emma’s arms squeezing around his waist, lending him strength.
“Under the guise of guardianship, Henry was going to raise his by-blow inmyhouse. I couldn’t allow it.” Cunning curled Patrice’s lips. “So I hit upon the perfect solution. For I knew my duke well, knew how he despised weakness above all else. I gave him what he deserved: a frail, useless bastard, one that could never take my own son’s place.”
“You took your jealousy out on an innocent lad!” Will snarled. “Alaric had naught to do with any of it, you underhanded bitch!”
“I know. That is why I spent countless nights tending to him.” Malice melted to anxiety, the maniacal shift terrifying to behold. Alaric felt nauseated as his aunt looked upon him with glowing fondness. “The more my husband despised you, the more I loved you. I’d lost his affection, but I could have yours—and I could remain mistress of Strathmore... if certain obstacles were removed,” she said dreamily. “You were fourth in line to inherit, after all. And since your father obligingly died in that carriage accident, there were only two hurdles to surmount. Two childless, weak cousins who had never amounted to much. Their deaths were hardly noticed.”
Holy hell.
He said in disbelief, “You poisoned them... your husband’s kin?”
“I did what needed to be done to secure your legacy.” She smiled with horrible pride. “So we could be together, my dearest boy.”
A hideous thought seized him. “Laura,Charlie...”
“I had no hand in that. At first, I’ll admit I was concerned after your whirlwind marriage to that Jezebel,” Patrice said airily, “but when I met her, I knew that she posed no threat. It was clear the passion between the two of you would quickly sour. Laura didn’t need my help to destroy your marriage—she did it all by herself. But Emma here,”—the dowager shook her head morosely—“she was different, her hold on you too strong. She left me no choice but to take action.”
Alaric’s arms tightened around Emma. “You’ll never get near my wife again. We’re handing you over to the magistrates, and you are going to pay for your crimes.”
“She belongs in Bedlam,” Emma said.
“No.” Patrice stumbled backward. “I’m not going anywhere. I belonghere.”
“There’s nowhere to run,” Kent said. “You cannot escape justice.”
A mad, sly smile crossed Patrice’s features. “There’s always an escape.”
She twisted her ring; the carnelian flipped open. In a blink, she brought the hidden compartment to her lips, downing the contents. Her eyes bulged, and she fell to the sand.
“Bluidy hell,” Will exclaimed.
Kent crossed over and, crouching, placed a hand on the dowager’s neck. He shook his head.
Alaric didn’t know how to respond. Cold numbness spread over him as the revelations swirled in his head. Death, pain, and suffering. His aunt—a crazed murderess, perpetrator of countless ills... who lay dead before him. So many betrayals. It was too much to take in. He could sense the dark walls curving over his head, the past trapping him...
“Alaric?”
Emma’s steady voice reached him through the darkness. Her face came into focus, became his only focus when he saw the fierce love in her eyes. Her flame vanquished the prison walls, turned them into smoke.
“I’m here, my darling.” She cupped his jaw, and her warm strength seeped into him. “Everything will be alright.”
“Because of you,” he said hoarsely. “My love.”
He pulled her into his arms and held on tight.
Chapter Forty
At week’s end, Emma stood next to her husband as they bade farewell to Ambrose and Mr. McLeod. With his dark hair gleaming and virile form dressed with effortless elegance, Alaric appeared much like his normal self. At least on the surface. She knew the wounds inflicted by the dowager would take longer to heal, and she was determined to accompany him on that journey, no matter how long it took.
To her relief, he wanted her there by his side.
Talking long into the nights, he’d spoken of memories, feelings so hotly poignant that all she could do was hold him tighter. They’d discussed his realization: therewasnothing wrong with him. The rejection he’d suffered—from his mama, his da, even the cruel man who’d been his biological father—none of it had been his fault. The lack of love he’d received hadn’t been because he was unlovable or ugly, stupid or weak.
