CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Clairemont swung down off his horse and climbed the stairs two by two. It took everything in him not to rip the door before him off its hinges. Instead, he knocked, though it was not gently.
A man with a black eye opened the door and he looked Clairemont up and down. “May I help you?”
“I’m here to see Mr. Fitzgilbert,” he managed through clenched teeth as he handed over his card. “Tell him the Duke of Clairemont is here and that I willnotbe kept waiting.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the servant said, opening the door wide. “Will you adjourn to the parlor?”
He motioned to a room to the side. Clairemont strode inside and looked around. It was a cold room, both physically and due to its lack of trinkets or portraits. Oh, there was expensive furniture, of course, but nothing to reveal the character of its owner.
Not that Clairemont needed that extra information. He already knew what a bastard his host was.
“Your Grace.”
Clairemont spun to face the voice at the door, and stared. “Mr. Fitzgilbert, I presume?” he asked, surprised to find such a slight, white-haired old man awaiting him. He’d built Fitzgilbert up to be a monster in his head.
In that moment, he realized he’d actually pictured him as the man who’d raised him. But this person wasnothinglike that brute. At least not on the outside.
“The very one.” There was a joviality to his tone, but it was false. Clairemont saw the greedy glitter in his eyes, the needy longing he’d sometimes seen in men on the streets who would steal or even kill to get what they want.
Of course, those men were trying to survive. This man had that look merely because he wanted to advance in Society. Which made him a monster of a different sort.
“I wasn’t expecting company,” Fitzgilbert said, motioning to a chair before the fire. “Especially a duke to whom I have not been officially introduced. But I welcome you here. Would you like tea? Or perhaps brandy?”
“Nothing,” Clairemont said, remaining standing. He had come here with the intention to use his skills and parry with this man, but now that he was here, his emotions were taking over. He was angry, he was vengeful, he was protective in a way he’d never experienced before. He clenched his fists at his sides and fought for control as he snapped, “And you needn’t pretend as though you don’t know exactly why I’m here. And on whose behalf.”
Fitzgilbert’s face pinched, and suddenly he looked very rat-like. “If you are referring to your courtship of my granddaughter Celia, yes, I am aware of that fact. If you came to seek my approval, I give it wholeheartedly. With provisions, of course.”
Clairemont folded his arms. “Oh yes, Celia told me all about your provisions.”
Fitzgilbert’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Stupid,stupidgirl. She had just one duty. One duty on this earth, and she cannot even manage that.”
Clairemont reached out and, without preamble, caught Fitzgilbert by the throat. Lifting him off the ground, he growled, “Disparage Celia’s intelligence again and there will be nothing left of you but a stain on your rug. Do I make myself clear?”
Fitzgilbert clawed at his hands as he wheezed out, “Yes.”
Slowly Clairemont set him down and then wiped his hand on his jacket. Fitzgilbert bent over, coughing and choking for breath.
“You’re as violent as Rosalinde’s husband,” he said, his voice strained.
Clairemont shrugged. “You should know. I’ve done nothing more to you than you already did to your own granddaughter.”
Fitzgilbert straightened, and he seemed to have regained some composure. “Celia told you all of it, did she?”
“Every. Single. Bit,” Clairemont said, moving toward him a step and enjoying how Fitzgilbert flinched back. “IfIhad been in Danford’s position that day, I would have killed you where you stood for daring to lay a hand on the woman I loved. If you ever think to touch Celia,Iwill not be stopped. Isthatclear?”
Fitzgilbert nodded. “It is. But if you’ve gotten all that out of your system, we are still left with an interesting quandary.”
“Yes. You have information that Celia and her sister need.” Clairemont shook his head. “You’re going to give it to me now.”
“Or what?” Fitzgilbert laughed, and it grated on Clairemont’s spine. “You’ll kill me? Do that and you’ll never know the truth. Youneedme, Your Grace. And if you want to obtain what I have, then the deal I made with Celia is the only way to do it.”
Clairemont pinched his lips. “Once we wed, you’ll tell her the truth.”
“And not a moment before.”
He turned away. What this bastard couldn’t know, what no one could know, was that he had no intention of marrying Celia. He was only masquerading as duke. The crown was giving him leeway for the investigation, but no one in the War Department wouldeveragree to let him truly wed her in the guise of Duke of Clairemont. That would leave her as duchess in the eyes of the world.
