"How kind." Clarissa's panic was turning to desperation, and Kit was utterly powerless to help because he was fighting the same frantic sensation.
There was no way he could wait one more second to tell Clarissa how he felt. But his father was there, ruining everything. Like always.
For one irrational moment, Kit considered shoving his father over the balustrade just to be rid of him.
To be clear, they were not high off the ground. The intention was more ridiculous than murderous. But before he could do anything so foolish, Clarissa began backing away.
"I— If you'll excuse me, I should— My mother will be wondering where I've gone." Clarissa didn't wait for a response. She turned and walked away, heading not for the doors she'd come out of but farther down the house toward another set of doors that led to the library.
Of course she couldn't walk back into the fray right now. Not like this. Not after she'd told him she loved him and gotten nothing in return. Kit watched her go. Everything in him wanted to follow.
Had she really said she loved him?
Part of him still couldn't believe it had happened.
"Charming girl," the duke observed, watching Clarissa's retreating figure. "A bit nervous, perhaps. But that will settle."
"What are you doing here, Father?" Kit's voice was low.
The duke's smile didn't waver, but his eyes sharpened. "I told you. Offering my congratulations."
"And?" Kit prompted. "What is it that you want?"
Kit couldn't remember a single time in his life when his father had done anything out of the goodness of his heart. If he was here, he was here for a reason. And undoubtedly it was a selfish one.
A silence fell between them. The terrace was empty now, just the two of them and the distant sounds of the party inside. The garden stretched beneath them, dark and quiet.
The duke straightened his cuffs. "Very well. I wanted to see for myself that the matter was settled. An engagement puts an end to the speculation. The ton will move on to the next scandal." His father's eyes had lost all that false warmth when they met his. "I assume there's no reason now to harm the family name."
"The family name, or your name?" Kit's laugh held no humor. "So you're here because you're still worried, is that it? Worried that now that I've found a wife, I'll feel the urge to clear the air around my…past affairs?"
The duke's lips curled in a sneer at his mocking tone.
But really. The man was just so obvious. He couldn't even pretend to be a decent father for more than a minute.
The duke's sneer turned to a cold smile. "As I said. I'm merely here to congratulate you. Not only is the girl an earl's daughter, but she appears to be willing to overlook your past indiscretions. You chose well."
Kit's hands curled at his sides. "My indiscretions."
"The mistress. The child." The duke waved a hand as if he could swipe it all away. "It's all rather tidily resolved now, isn't it? The girl is taken care of, you have a wife, and no one need speak of it again."
"The girl has a name." Kit's voice was dangerously quiet. "Clementine. And the child is yours."
The words hung in the night air. The duke's expression didn't change, but his eyes went flat and cold.
"We've discussed this," the duke said.
"No. You've dictated. There's a difference." Kit took a step forward. "You fathered a child with a woman half your age. You promised to protect her, and when she became inconvenient, you threw her out. And now you're standing on my aunt's terrace congratulating me on a sensible match because I found a woman who will tolerate the rumors and the scandal?—"
"Keep your voice down," the duke snapped. "Everything I've done has been to protect this family."
"Everything you've done has been to protect yourself." Kit held his father's gaze. "I've watched you my entire life, Father. The charm, the moral speeches, the impeccable reputation. And underneath it—nothing. Just a man who uses people and discards them when they've served their purpose."
The duke's eyes narrowed. "You've been handed the world on a platter, my boy. Any favor you do for me, you do for the family."
"That's where you're wrong." Kit's voice was hard and loud. But no one else was out here, and for once, he would speak up. It wouldn't change anything, but some words needed to be said. "None of this was for you. Nothing I do is ever for you. You wanted me to take the blame for Clementine. I did. Not for you, but for her. You wanted the ton to believe the child was mine. They do. Again, for their sake, not yours. For years, I let you cast me in the role of your choosing to suit your needs. Not for you, but for the family name. For my late uncle's sake. For Aunt Philippa." He paused. "But I'm done."
The duke was very still. "What do you mean, done?"
