"You weren't Rebecca."
He heard the door slam behind him and he smiled. Did he like telling Cecelia he never loved her? Well, not really. He'd known she would snivel and complain. He couldn't really blame her, though. What woman would want to hear those words coming from her husband?
Still, it had needed to be done. She had to understand what was going on so she would go quietly. Did he think she would go all the way to Everdale without complaint or a billion questions if he hadn't told her the truth? If he hadn't told his story to her? No. He knew she wouldn't because she wasn't that kind of woman. She would have wanted to know why. What sort of danger was he in? Why were they not taking Emma and the servants? What was going on? She had always been an inquisitive sort, it was just that she had never asked the right questions.
And it did hurt, truthfully, to think of Trudy leaving. His daughter. His one and only child. She wasn't the child he wanted or the child he felt he deserved. She was so… annoying at times. And sick. The doctor's bill alone to keep her healthy was more than he cared to think about. Still, he could tell she loved him with her whole heart, just like her mother. He didn't despise his daughter, but he wasn't proud of her either. She had only had one suitor come calling in the past few weeks, and it was that William Haddington, Anthony's son's friend. Then again, that had been very fortuitous on Frederick's behalf.
The worst part of Trudy leaving was only a week before, he'd paid for her coming out party. She was to debut at her first ball tomorrow night. He'd spent a lot of money on her party, money he couldn't ever get back, but it would be well worth it.
She'd be gone.
Emma would have to go to the ball.
She'd just "happen" to run into Vaughan Wexley, son of Anthony, and they would just happen to fall in love.
The pieces had all been set. The plan had been set in motion for years. Telling Cecelia had been the last step. Now that horrible trip into his past had gone and it was time to look into the future. What better way to get justice than to hurt their children?
He only wished Anthony had been alive to see this.
Frederick Dodsworth took the last gulp of whisky and threw the glass into the fire.
He loved his life.
THE DEVIL DUKE TAKES A BRIDE
A Renwick House Novel
by Rachel Van Dyken
CHAPTER ONE
An Unfortunate Turn of Events
Cough, cough, cough. "So, you see, my boy, there isn't another option. I am at the end of my life and in need of this final boon in order to pass into the land of our ancestors."
Benedict Devlyn, Duke of Banbury, was determined not to roll his eyes as he squinted at his more-than-healthy aunt. "Forgive me, but I highly doubt the sniffles will be the death of you. Unless you have some other sort of illness that has you spouting off nonsensical death wishes. Oh wait, yes, did your dog bite you? And it's become infected? Yes, must be it. That's why you're dying, certainly not from sitting too near Lady Renwick when she was ill last week."
"Impetuous man, look at me!"
He was looking at her. And all he saw was a woman at the prime old age of one and seventy, with the uncanny ability to hug a man so tightly he nearly lost whatever food he'd managed to shovel in during tea while the witch discussed the importance of her dog. Well, that and he had the sneaking suspicion that for one reason or another, she was lying through her teeth. For his aunt, of all people, to summon him wasn't normal. Nor was answering her every beck and call something he made a habit of doing.
For one thing, it was common knowledge that she was slightly mad, and for another, he and his aunt hadn't been on speaking terms since last season when he'd decided he would not take her dog to Almacks — to her great disappointment. She'd been feigning near death ever since.
Her coughing brought him back to the present. Peculiar that it was now changing to a more drastic coughing fit than before. "Is that all then? You wish for me to go find a girl and be done with this whole Devil Duke business?"
"Before I die!" Aunt Agatha interrupted, thrusting her hand into the air. "You are a stain upon the family name."
The witch didn't mince words, did she?
"I see," he said, though truthfully he didn't see. After all, his reputation had been legendary. Every young buck wanted to be him, and every high-stepping mama who threw her debutante his way was given ruin and disaster in return. After ten years of his infamous exploits, women not only gave him the cut direct, but he had it on good authority they now placed his name next to devil on all of the finishing school lists when warning debutantes against ruin. In his mind, it was an accomplishment of gigantic proportions.