CHAPTER 5

GAbrIEL MADE HIS WAY down to the library for his meeting with the duke five minutes before five o'clock. The house was impossibly large, and it would take him most of the five minutes to get there. He knew the way well, having visited several times over the past years, but always as part of a house party. The duke and duchess's house parties were famous, and the invitations coveted.

But this time there was no house party. He was the only guest, which made him even more curious as to the purpose of this invitation. At the stroke of five, he reached the library door, which a footman opened.

The library was his favorite room in this already magnificent house. Ornate wood bookcases packed with wonderful volumes occupied three of the walls, including the one which contained the door through which he had entered. They accented the double height of the coffered and heavily decorated ceiling. A mezzanine accessed by a spiral staircase in one corner ran around the room about two-thirds of the way up. To his right, surrounded by the bookcases, an enormous fireplace anchored the sitting area composed of a sofa and two chairs. But the real pièce de résistance was the two-story window, which dominated the fourth wall opposite the door. It provided a spectacular view of the rear lawn, with its terraced gardens, and let in an abundance of light for reading. It balanced and brightened the heavy wood and made the room cheery and airy.

He would like to create a library like this in Brentwood Hall, for his own library was dark and dismal. Alas, there was not enough money for a project such as that. What little profit the estate was producing had to go back into it to make the necessary repairs and improvements or to pay debts. He sighed in resignation. It would be years, if ever, before his estate could afford a library as magnificent as this one.

Drawn as he always was to the impressive windows and the view, it took him a moment to notice the duke sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace. It was the first time he's seen him in over two months, when they had last met during a parliamentary session, and the physical changes in the duke took him aback. He was gaunt and frail and seemed to have aged ten years in a few short months. Even his voice sounded weaker, although it carried the same tone of command.

"Brentworth. Thank you for accepting my invitation."

Gabriel bowed. "Your Grace, as always, it is a pleasure to enjoy your hospitality."

"Yes, yes. We are pleased to have you. Have you seen Hannah?"

"I have not. Please convey my greetings to the duchess. And my gratitude for the splendid accommodations."

The duke waved a shaky hand, as if it were of no consequence. "You will see her later and then you can tell her yourself."

Gabriel studied the duke. Under his gruff demeanor lurked something that resembled nervousness. Surely not? Stanhope was one of the most confident men he had ever met.

"Brentworth, I have asked you to join me here because I have important matters to discuss with you. There's no easy way to go about this, so I recommend you pour yourself a drink and have a seat."

Feeling more intrigued and apprehensive by the moment, Gabriel went to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of cognac as the duke had recommended, then took a seat on the sofa across from him. The duke's somber gaze settled on him and in his eyes there was something akin to regret, melancholy, fear, or maybe a combination of all three.

"Your Grace?" he prodded gently when the older man still hesitated.

The duke sighed.

"I must have turned this around in my head about a hundred times, trying to come up with the perfect way to broach the subject, find the right words. And yet nothing seems appropriate."

"Sir, whatever it is, you don't have to mince words with me. Sometimes it is better to just have it out."

"Yes, you may be right. I must apologize in advance for my clumsiness." Stanhope took a deep breath, appearing to brace himself, and then met his gaze square on.

"I have invited you here today to talk about events of the past. Things I never thought to reveal, but as so often happens, the past has a way of affecting the present, and so these events have relevance today."

Gabriel nodded encouraging, noting the older man was trying to ease his way into the matter.

"Thirty-five years ago, I had an affair with your mother."

Gabriel sucked in a breath, shocked. He didn't know what he had expected the duke to say, but this was not even a remote possibility. His mother had always been so morally upright, almost puritanical. It seemed almost impossible she would...but then something else caught his attention.

"Thirty-five years, you say?" he asked as something like a premonition slithered down his spine, chilling him to the bone.

"Yes, thirty-five years. I see your mind is already racing to conclusions, and you are on the right track. From that relationship, a child was born." The duke fidgeted, then added, "You."

Gabriel shot up from his seat, shocked to the core. Unable to make sense of all the implications this revelation had. His whole life was being torn down and rearranged in front of him. So many things suddenly made sense, and so many others didn't.

He went to pace in front of the windows. He wanted to deny this. To forget it. To escape from here and run. Why now? What did it matter, anyway? But it must matter, or so the duke had said.

"Are you sure about this?" An inane question, he knew. But he was still trying to cling to any possibility of denying the truth.

"I am. Without a doubt. Besides the timing of things, I have but to look at you to find proof you are my offspring."

"We don't look alike." Why he felt the need to point it out wasn't clear.

The duke chuckled at that. "Don't we? Come here."

When he got closer, the duke held both hands in front of him. "Place your hands next to mine," Gabriel did, reluctantly noting the similarities. The duke's hands might be old and frail with age, but there was no mistaking the bone structure, the long, elegant fingers, and broad, strong palms. Even the shape of the nails was the same.

"Granted, we have similar hands. But that is hardly proof of paternity."

"Look at that portrait on top of the fireplace. That is my father at about the same age you are now. If you can see past the hairstyle, it could almost be you."

Gabriel looked and was impressed despite himself. Once one got past the wig of the previous century, the resemblance was uncanny.

"Your resemblance to me is less marked. But it is there. In the eyes, the nose, the shape of the jaw."

Gabriel's mind was swirling with so many questions...so many emotions.

"Did my father... I mean, the previous earl, know?"

"Yes."

"Then why did he claim me?"

The duke shrugged. "Pride, probably. He didn't have an heir. And given the fact that he sired no children, legitimate or otherwise, I would guess he was incapable, and he knew it. To admit you were not his son was to admit he had been cuckolded. And then, to fail to beget an heir of his own, would have exposed his deficiency to the world."

"Why didn't you claim me? Why did you let him have me?" Gabriel asked, old anger and pain resurfacing and coloring his voice.

"I couldn't. Your mother begged me not to cause a scandal, and Brentworth promised to raise you as his own. With the condition I never came near you or told you I was your father. That's why I only approached you after he died."

"Raise me as his own?" Gabriel scoffed. "You wouldn't say that if you knew the way he treated me."

"I thought it was the best for you. If I had claimed you, you would have been a bastard. Your mother would have been ruined and ostracized. This way you would be legitimate, the heir to an earldom. You would have prestige and a place in society."

Gabriel choked out a bitter bark of laughter. "For all the good those things have done to me. I have a ruined earldom and had a childhood from hell. Maybe I would have been better off being your bastard than the Earl's heir."

"I am so sorry. I know it is inadequate, but it is true. I never intended to cause you suffering. I always kept abreast of your whereabouts. But I had to do it in secret. I know you were a brilliant student and an outstanding officer. When you left the army, I hired someone to look after you. Your valet, Thakur, is in my employ. I did the best I could under the circumstances."

"You have been spying on me through my valet?" Gabriel was aghast on several levels. He considered Thakur a friend. The man had been with him through thick and thin. Was everything in his life a lie?

"Not spying. Thakur is no spy. He considers himself in my debt because I once provided a service for him and his family, so he's someone I trust. I told him to get close to you and inform me if you were ever in trouble or needed help. That's all. He doesn't report to me on your every move."

Gabriel didn't want to hear the duke's excuses and explanations. He walked to the window and tried to soothe his ragged emotions by staring into the serene landscape. It didn't work. Cruelty, strife, and struggle had marred his life, and all because of this arrangement his "parents" had made. The truth was, he had no parents. The Earl had been a cruel bastard who took pleasure in making his life miserable, his mother a feeble coward who never had the spine to stand up to her husband, not even to defend her child. And the duke... the duke simply had not been there.

And him? He was just an unworthy bastard. Quite literally. The sense of being out of place, of not belonging, had never been stronger than at this moment. He didn't deserve the name he bore. He shouldn't be the Earl of Brentworth. The old earl had called him a mistake. That's what he was. He should have never been born. He knew both his parents had wished it so. At long last, he understood the Earl's hatred. He didn't condone it. But now at least he understood it. He never stood a chance of earning the old earl's approval, much less his love.

"Why are you revealing this now?" It came as a ragged whisper, and he cleared his throat.

"Maybe I want to make amends. That's why I befriended you and tried to help you these past five years. To compensate for what I didn't do your whole life. Maybe I need to do more. Faster. I have little time left, Gabriel."

At that, Gabriel turned to look at him sharply.

"Yes, I'm dying. I don't know how much time I have left. Some days are better than others. The doctors can't say for sure. But the way I feel... I would say a few months at best."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Gabriel said and meant it. For all his anger at the recent revelations, he had developed a fondness of sorts for the duke. He was going to mourn him when he was gone.

The duke shrugged. "Everybody dies at some point. I have lived for a long time. Long enough to lose most of the people I've loved. I'm ready to go. It's just... There are some matters I ought to set right first. Amends I need to make."

So this is what was behind the duke's revelation? He just wanted to unburden his soul? Seek forgiveness? Anger still burned underneath his skin, but Gabriel couldn't deny a dying old man the redemption he sought. Gabriel took a seat again, facing the duke eye to eye.

"Regarding me, consider your amends made. Over the past five years, you have become my friend and mentor. Regardless of your motives, I have benefited from having your guidance and support. And I have come to admire and appreciate you."

The duke's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "You truly are a kind person. It makes what I'm about to ask even more desirable, but harder to request."

"Sir?"

"I need an heir."

Gabriel looked at him in confusion. "I am aware, sir. But I fail to see how I can help in that regard. You said it yourself. Even if you claim me as your son, I would be illegitimate, and thus unable to be your heir."

"But a son of yours and Hannah could be my heir."