The Reluctant Duke (A Seabrook Family Saga)(85)

***

In his suite of rooms Thomas paced, leaning heavily on his cane, as his mother sat in a chair, snapping off question after question to him.

Thomas balked as he paused in front of the fire smoldering inside the fireplace. “Mother, if you don’t pause to breathe I cannot possibly answer your questions.” He leaned both hands on his cane to gather his thoughts. Which was impossible since his brain refused to work and the pain in his side would not relent.

Thomas explained everything that had transpired with Emma’s father. His mother finally had nothing to say and all he heard was her breathing, fast at times and non-existent at other times.

He heard the hitch in her breath before his mother spoke. “You have not been truthful with your wife. Her story does not match yours.”

“Yes, I know. I did not want to hurt her or alter her memories of her father. I did not believe she needed to know how sick he was or that he put a revolver to his head and blew his brains out.”

“I hope I have raised you better than to use such shocking language when you do tell her the truth.”

Thomas heard his mother’s footsteps come up behind him and felt the warmth of her hand as it rested on his shoulder. He pivoted around, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“I understand your reasoning,” his mother continued. “You wanted to protect her and protect her memory of her father. But what you did was also wrong. Emma has a right to know––she needs to know.”

Thomas ran his fingers through his thick hair and tossed the cane to the ground with the other. He refused to rely on that crutch any longer.

“Mr. Hamilton asked me, in his letter which accompanied the will, to keep it to myself and never let Emma know. At the time I planned to bring her home and marry her off to the first respectable gentleman who asked for her hand. But even then I cared for her and did not want to give her to another. I made excuses.”

Thomas paced the room once again, wishing he could jump out of his skin and run away. “I should have let Sebastian marry her. They could both be in America now living as husband and wife.” He stopped dead in his tracks and groaned. “I was a selfish bastard. Lord knows I was. All I thought about was how badly I wanted her. I could not stand the thought of another man, especially my brother, touching her––loving her.”

Thomas was known for keeping his temper under control; however, at this moment he let it be known. He picked up the first thing his hands curled around and sent the pitcher of water crashing against the wall. The sound resonated around the room. He covered his ears.

“How do I make this right?”

His mother’s hand rested on his shoulder again, and he covered hers with his.

“Start by telling Emma the truth. She can hardly fault you for what you did. Her father left you no choice. You were following his last wishes. Show her all the proof you have.”

“I think it’s too late.”

“Nonsense. It is never too late for matters pertaining to the heart.”

“Heart,” he laughed. “What does this have to do with the heart?”

“Sometimes I wonder how men can be so dense that they cannot see what is right in front of them––what is plainly there for everyone else to see. Also, let me say how stupid you were not to have taken her to your bed.”

Thomas looked up, his jaw open and his eyes wide. “Mother!”

She waved him off. “Let me finish. Do you honestly think I believe every female goes to her marriage bed chaste? Most wedding nights happen sometime between the betrothal and the ceremony. I know men and how they think and work. You had already compromised her, so I had assumed you had taken her to your bed. I admire you for the choice you made. But the way you’ve handled it complicates things now.”

Never had Thomas imagined his mother saying the things she just did. “I do not regret my decision to wait for our wedding night. Call me old-fashioned, but I wanted the first time Emma and I came together to be as man and wife.

“My decision, however, will haunt me to the end of my days. There will never be anyone else for me. If she still insists on leaving, I will file for an annulment.” Thomas headed toward the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. He turned back to his mother. “If that happens, do not question my decision not to marry and produce an heir. Sebastian, or one of his sons, can inherit the dukedom.”

He had to escape his mother and his rooms. One more minute of breathing the air inside there, which seemed to lack the oxygen he needed to think straight, and he would not be responsible for his actions. As it was, Thomas barely knew what he was doing. And he would gladly die before he let anyone know he was running a fever again.