“Good. I need him to break.”
With his sister clinging to his coat, Felton marched to the devil’s chamber to face the man who continually ruined his life.
CHAPTER27
FELTON—THEDEVIL’SDUE
Felton reared his hand back to knock on Tramel’s door, but Jane caught his fingers.
“Wait, brother. He’s delicate.”
He spun to her. “Too delicate to pay for purposely putting a wedge between my wife and me?”
“Lady Gantry chose to leave. She couldn’t bear to stay with you, and she walked out in the storm. The duke didn’t force her. Perhaps he did this to keep an eye on her.”
“Cecilia is not sinister. She’s been wronged.”
Jane dropped his arm. “You believe as you want, but our father is truly ill.”
“How can you forgive him but hold such contempt against Cecilia?” He turned back to the massive, whitewashed door of solid mahogany and pushed inside.
He paused at the empty chair by the fireplace, where he expected to find the man sitting, plotting mayhem.
The powerful man lay in bed, pale and bundled up in blankets.
The sickness was true.
Felton stepped closer, rounding to the side of the bed near a grand window. He extended his hand and waved beneath his father’s large nose, a Lance trademark.
“I’m still breathing, you fool.” The duke gripped his thick covers. “You haven’t been elevated . . . yet.”
Moving to the footboard, Felton grasped the knurl post. “You summoned, Tramel?”
Tired eyes opened, but his drawn sneer remained the same, tight and ready to toss a caustic reply. “I did want you to come earlier. I thought dying might garner your attention.”
“Seems I should’ve come for Christmas after all.”
The chuckle held power, despite the coughs. “When you see a purple snowdrop shivering on the side of the street trying to figure out how to walk to Demerara, I think it best to offer her a ride and someone to listen. I wouldn’t want her to freeze to death as she would’ve on such a night.”
“The thought of returning Cecilia to my house slipped your mind.”
Tramel’s palm fisted, and Felton jerked. The memories of a harsh slap across the cheek always followed such a move.
“You basically called your adoring wife a jezebel and your aged father her paramour. Seemed more like you gave me permission to see if I still had it in me.”
If Felton asked the duke if he’d seduced her, it would feed the jealousy in his heart. Instead, he’d go with faith, faith that no matter how mad she was, Cecilia wouldn’t betray him, and faith that if had Tramel won Cecilia, he wouldn’t have let her go. “Father, it seems you and I keep losing track of the woman we love.”
“If you’d come sooner, you may have been able to help. She had to go on a spy’s adventure alone.”
“Spying? What are you talking about?”
“Now you’re curious. You didn’t exactly come quickly. Took you more than a week to arrive.”
“I was in no hurry and you’re still alive. No loss.”
The man coughed, then laughed. “She could be in trouble. Without your or my protection, she’s vulnerable.”
The stewing in Felton’s gut became a rapid bubbling boil.
