CHAPTER 41

IT SEEMED TO GAbrIEL that his life in the past year had become an endless desert of waiting punctuated by oases of dazzling emotion. It had all started when he found out the duke was his father. Then came his brief affair with Hannah, which now seemed so long ago, and yet it was still so vivid in his mind, as if he had held her in his arms just yesterday.

From that moment on, everything in his life had revolved around her. When he found out she was expecting their child; when he saw her belly and felt his child move; when his son was born, and he held him in his arms for the first time. That was three months ago.

He had taken refuge in his estate and the work that needed to be done. But every month, on the day his son was born, he went to visit him. And each month it became more difficult to leave afterwards. Autumn had come and gone. Winter was again upon them. An entire year, the four seasons. The circle was complete, and yet he was in the same place. This time last year, he was at the beach with Hannah. Those halcyon days were the highlight of his life.

He missed her with an intensity that did not abate, no matter how much time passed. Maybe he shouldn't go visit this month. Put some distance between them. Begin to forget. Yet the thought of not seeing his son was unbearable.

A knock at the door interrupted his morose musings.

"Enter," he called, and his butler walked in.

"Your correspondence, my lord. A telegram has just been delivered. I thought you might wish to see it immediately."

He looked up, his heart speeding up. There was no reason to think it was from the abbey, and yet... He snatched the envelope from the tray, almost ripping the paper in his haste.

The duke suffered another apoplexy. Come at once. He's asking for you.

Remittent: The Duchess of Stanhope.

The words seemed to freeze the blood in his veins as if the cold winter wind had sneaked inside his chest. Gabriel looked at the time. Half past noon. How soon could he get to the abbey? If he was very lucky, by dinnertime at the earliest. Which meant he had no time to waste.

He ran from the room, yelling orders to the butler as he went. "Send for my valet. And have a coach ready. I'm leaving for Derby within the hour."

EVEN WITH LUCK ON HIS side, and being able to catch the last train connection in London, it was almost midnight by the time he got to Stanhope Abbey. The somber butler opened the door and ushered him inside, collecting his hat and greatcoat.

"How's the duke?" he asked without preamble.

"His Grace's condition is critical, my lord. The duchess and the doctor are with him."

"Take me to him."

"At once, my lord. Her Grace gave orders to bring you to the duke's bedchamber as soon as you arrived."

That didn't sound good. Was the duke at death's door, then? He found his throat tightening and his chest unable to expand to allow in enough air.

The door to the bedchamber opened. Hannah was sitting by the bed, her hand holding the duke's, who was pale and immobile in the bed, his eyes closed. He looked so frail... She looked up, their gazes met across the room, and she flew to him. He caught her reflexively against his chest, holding her tight, drawing comfort from her and giving it at the same time.

"Is he...?" He couldn't complete the sentence.

"No. The doctor says his heart is very weak, but he's still hanging on. I think he's waiting for you."

Gabriel walked towards the bed, retaining Hannah's hand. Holding on to it as if it were a lifeline. It was an improper display in front of the doctor, but at the moment he didn't give a fig about keeping up appearances.

"Sir?"

The duke opened his eyes and sketched a small smile. "Gabriel, my boy. You came."

"Of course I did. Wicked of you to give us this scare. I was planning to arrive tomorrow. You didn't have to mount this elaborate ruse to make me visit earlier."

A weak laugh escaped the duke. Then he turned to his doctor. "Leave us."

The old doctor looked as if he wanted to protest, but the duke's voice, although faint, still carried a world of authority. The man nodded.

"Try not to get agitated, Your Grace." With that, he left, closing the door softly behind him.

"Hannah," the duke whispered, and she nodded and left as well.

Gabriel didn't know what to say. But the duke didn't seem to have that problem. Maybe being at death's door simplified life's situations.

"You are the kind of son a father can be proud of. And I am. Even though I can take no credit for your upbringing. Thank you for your kindness, your generosity, and for being patient with me while I hung around longer than necessary."

Gabriel's head snapped at that.

"I don't wish for your death."

" I know you don't. But I'm ready to go. Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so," the duke recited.

Gabriel smiled. "You are quoting Donne?"

"It seems appropriate. One short sleep past, we wake eternally. I look forward to waking up and seeing my wife and son again."

He was referring to his first wife and his legitimate son. "You believe that?"

"With absolute certainty."

"You have a wife and a son here and now as well."

"Ah, yes. The wife I didn't know how to love, and the son I didn't raise. I failed you both. Don't feel bad for me. I don't deserve it. The least I can do is get out of your way."

Gabriel pressed his lips together, his nostrils flaring with conflicting emotions. "I wish things were different."

"There are many things I wish were different. Or rather, that I had done differently. But bringing you and Hannah together is not one of them. That's one of my best deeds. Do you love Hannah?"

Gabriel looked at the duke, the undeniable truth shining in his eyes. "You know I do."

The duke stretched his hand, and Gabriel took it. The old man's grasp was not strong, but vehemence lent it power.

"Then marry her after I'm gone. Raise your son together. I have named you and Hannah joint guardians of the child. Gabriel, they will need protection from my nephew. Don't lower your guard. Protect them. But above all, be happy with her. Promise me you will, and I will die with fewer regrets."

"I promise, sir. It's easy to make that promise, for it's what I want most in the world."

"You make me very happy. I love you, son."

Gabriel squeezed the duke's hand, forcing the words out of his constricted throat. "I've never called anyone ‘father' in my life. This will be the first and last time I do so. I love you too, Father."

The old duke closed his eyes and exhaled, a beatific smile stretching his lips.

His body survived until the next morning. But he never awakened again. Not in this world, at least.