Morgan cut in as the conversation moved on to the rest of the family with everyone's smiles growing by the second. Surely, not so much had changed in London since he'd left. "You know my fiancée?" he asked Wardington.
The duke turned to Morgan. "Oh, yes. Lady Philomena has come to dinner on a few occasions. Abigail and I find her delightful."
Philomena laughed. "Wardington, you are too kind."
Wardington? Kind? To the ward of Creed? A man who'd threatened Wardington's actual relatives? Morgan wasn't sure where he was anymore. He'd brought Philomena because he'd had no other choice and had thought her engagement with him would keep her protected from Wardington's wrath. Yet it seemed that Philomena needed no protection. For instead of inviting the woman to a room in his dungeon, he'd had her sit at his table.
"You're a very lucky man," Wardington told him and, smiling with his eyes, he added, "Although, who needs luck when you have the power of friendship?" He laughed.
Bradley and Philomena laughed as well.
Morgan did not, because he'd heard the message clearly in Wardington's statement.
He was engaged to Philomena because of the man who sat before him. Philomena had not been his mother's idea, but Wardington's. How the duke had arranged it and what other people he'd used to guide his mother's mind, Morgan didn't know, but that didn't make him blind to the truth.
"Can I speak with you alone, Your Grace?" Morgan asked.
Wardington, since making his last comment, had been holding his gaze. He nodded and turned to Bradley. "Take Philomena to see the gardens. The cow parsley has returned."
Philomena gasped and took Bradley's arm before leaving the room. She didn't even look at Morgan as she left.
Morgan closed the door behind them and said, "Bradley burned the letter."
"Good." Wardington’s gaze remained sharp. "Is that all?"
Morgan pressed his lips together and crossed the room before dropping into a chair. "What did it say?"
Wardington lifted his brow. "You didn't read it?"
"You sealed it."
"You let a seal stop you?" The duke chuckled. "You're a spy. I'm sure you could have managed to seal the paper back together and found a way to have my seal etched on it once more without me being none the wiser."
Of course, he could have and if need be, he could have written the letter over himself. All it would have taken was a few nights of practice and between the fact that he'd have had months to work at it and his brother now owned a paper mill, there had been nothing to stop him but his conscious.
"It wouldn't have been right," Morgan said.
The duke smiled. "That's why I like you, Morgan. You do what's right. It's also why I've given you the gift of Philomena."
Morgan didn't take offense that the duke called him by his name since it had been done with favor. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and stared at the Duke of Wardington. He was sure that never before had a man such as he existed and wondered if one ever would again. "How?"
Wardington mimicked his position and crossed his arms. "How what?"
Morgan lifted his hands. "How... everything? My brother? My mother?" He leaned forward. "Why Philomena?"
Wardington frowned as though the answer was clear. "Creed’s going to use her and in the process, he might break her. Did you see that lovely woman who was in here a moment ago? She needs protecting and what better protector than a Second Son?"
Morgan blinked and fell back into the chair again. If Wardington believed Philomena an innocent, then Morgan had no doubts that it was true. Wardington knew everything. Morgan was sure that Wardington, at any point in time, could bring down Creed himself, but why the duke didn't was a mystery. He had to ask. "Why?"
"Why did I choose you to protect Philomena?"
"No," Morgan said. "Why the game? Why not just stop Creed?"
Wardington shook his head. "I don't need that glory."
Morgan scoffed. "You live for glory."
"Yes, but I don't want the throne. There have already been whispers about me coveting it."
That was true. Morgan himself had said Wardington had the power to rule the kingdom, but he'd never thought... "Do you have the supporters?" Morgan asked.
Wardington’s expression went flat. "The supporters, the debts, the power, and the blood. Every powerful house in England pays tribute to me in some way or another and though it doesn't matter, I'm somewhere in line for the throne. My father was the cousin to King George III and there are those who don't wish to see Victoria as queen. You know this."
Why Morgan hadn't pieced all of this together before surprised him, but it was true. Creed had joined a secret society a few years ago with other powerful men who'd thought Victoria the end of England's power. But with a man like Wardington in charge, even as old as he was, no one would question his authority "So, what do you want?"
"Protect the girl," Wardington said. "Protect the Crown. See that Victoria lives to see her coronation."
Morgan nodded in the understanding of his duty but then cursed. "Philomena hates me."
The look of contempt that covered Wardington's face made Morgan squirm. "What did you do?"
Morgan relayed the story, holding nothing back. There was no point. Since Wardington was also known as Cupid, he was Morgan's greatest hope of winning Philomena's hand in less than forty-eight hours. If he'd had a month, Morgan was sure he'd have had Philomena singing down the aisle. Even a week might have worked, but fear was a hard thing to break in a matter of days.
When he was done, Wardington said, "She fears you?"
"Yes."
"Then show her yours."
Morgan frowned. "Show her my fears?"
Wardington nodded. "It's only fair. You know hers." He laughed.
Morgan didn't join in, but as he thought about what the duke said, it made sense. He stood and bowed. "Thank you, Your Grace... What do I owe you for your words of wisdom?" He knew there would be a debt.
Wardington proved him right. "I give your debt to my grandson. One day, when he's the duke, he'll need help. There will be those who are envious of him. There are those who will think my title weak because I am gone. My son Andrew has already established himself as a leader in his own right, but I will not be around to guide Bradley... at least not with the everyday problems. Still, I have faith in him. I am not asking you to guide him. You will simply ensure his enemies think twice." His gaze was hard. "Swear this to me."
Morgan nodded. "I swear." Though he wondered what Wardington meant by not being around to guide Bradley with everyday problems. Did the duke still plan to have any sort of control once he was gone? Morgan wouldn’t be surprised. “I’ll protect Bradley.”
"Good." His expression relaxed. "Now, you've a fiancée to win over, don't you?"
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7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
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“ I’ll see to it” …
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"Do you enjoy cow parsley?"