Page 41 of The Duke's Only Desire

Chapter Eleven

Shay tossed Pearson’sunwanted resignation onto the desk, then crossed the study to the side table to open a new bottle of Martell waiting on the silver drinks tray. He wasn’t at all happy to have his uncle here. He didn’t trust Malcolm. And he sure as hell didn’t trust him anywhere near Sophie.

But one drink would be hospitable enough, and more graciousness than the man had a right to. Then he could send him on his way and, hopefully, never have to deal with him again.

“So you were in London,” Malcolm commented as he settled into the chair in front of the massive desk and did his best to sneak a surreptitious glance at the papers and account books spread across its top. “And married.” He reached out to turn one of the books toward him for a closer look. “You can imagine my surprise when I heard.”

Surprise?Shay was surprised Malcolm hadn’t suffered apoplexy at the news. He must have been confident Norton would have married Sophie, tormenting Shay for the rest of his days. After all, that was why Malcolm had set Norton after Sophie in the first place. His uncle was nothing if not vengeful.

“I’d wanted to tell you myself,” Shay lied, having had no intention whatsoever of contacting Malcolm about his marriage or anything else. He splashed a less than generous pour into twoglasses. After all, the shorter the drink, the shorter his uncle’s visit. “But the moment hadn’t yet seemed right.”

Shay could only imagine the lies his uncle had told Sophie before he’d returned to the house. He should have warned her, he supposed, told her to avoid Malcolm at all costs. But Shay could count on one hand the number of visits Malcolm had paid to Ravenscroft Manor since the fire and had thought the man ensconced in London, and he hadn’t wanted to upset Sophie any more than necessary while she was adapting to life here. Now he could add that mistake to the growing list of things she had a right to be furious about.

He carried the glasses to the desk and handed one to Malcolm. His eyes not leaving his uncle, he closed the account book and sank onto the leather chair behind the desk.

“I’m certain Sophie appreciates your well wishes on our marriage,” Shay said evenly, certain that Malcolm hadn’t given any. At least not until Shay arrived.

“Lady Sophie,” his uncle mused with a chuckle as he swirled his brandy. “So she found a way to become Duchess of Malvern after all. You have to admire determination like that.”

Shay had no intention of explaining the circumstances of their wedding to him.Ever. “She’ll make an excellent duchess.” He took a sip of cognac and muttered into his glass, “Far more than the dukedom merits.”

“I agree.” An amused smile tugged at Malcolm’s lips. “Or at least the current state of the dukedom. And its duke.”

The brandy turned rancid on Shay’s tongue. Slowly, careful to control his expression, he placed the unwanted glass onto his desk and bore his gaze into Malcolm’s. “Why are you here?” There was no point any longer at playing at niceties. “You know you’re not welcome.”

“As I said, to meet my new niece and receive her into the family.” The bastard had the audacity to look offended. “You doubt my sincerity?”

“Yes.”

This time, his uncle’s laugh was cold. “Very well. Let’s get right to it, then, shall we?” Malcolm let go of all pretense of pleasantries. “Does she know you killed your brother because of her?”

Shay kept his face painfully inscrutable, despite the anger searing him from the inside out. It was no secret that Malcolm blamed him for the deaths of John and the late duke. He’d openly said such to Shay’s father in the days immediately after the fire and then to Parliament in the days after his father’s death in a blatant attempt to possess the dukedom for himself. In that, though, Malcolm wasn’t alone. Shay’s father and the rest of society had thought the same.

“I keep no secrets from my wife,” Shay told him. What was one more lie among all the others being swirled about in the study as easily as the cognac?

“Good. Because she needs to know what she’s gotten herself into.” He tapped his finger on the rim of the glass and narrowed his gaze. “Of course, in truth, your marriage is nothing more than a sham, isn’t it? You…marrying the daughter of an earl, your dead brother’s fiancée, no less.” Malcolm raised the glass to his lips and laughed into it. “I suppose you’ll attempt to insult me by claiming yours is a love match!”

“I would never attempt to appeal to your heart that way.” After all, his uncle didn’t possess one.

“Because you can’t. Because she was most likely scheming for money and position, her father hoping for the marriage he didn’t—”

“She wasn’t.”

The icy coldness of Shay’s voice made his uncle censor himself. Good. If he dared utter one more negative word against Sophie, Shay would pound the conniving bastard to a pulp where he sat.

Malcolm stared silently at Shay for a long moment, then said quietly, “You forced her into marriage by using the old contract against her, didn’t you? Force her to marry you or bankrupt her family… After all, it’s the only way you could have gotten her away from a man like James Norton. It’s the only way you could have gotten any wife at all.”

Shay forced a tight smile and summoned every ounce of restraint he possessed. “My marriage is none of your business.”

The quiet statement reverberated through the study with the force of cannon fire.

“It is very much my business,” Malcolm countered. “Should your new wife whelp an heir, the dukedom will be stained forever. But it’s not too late. You can still end this sham of a marriage and send her packing back to London where she belongs.”

“Make no mistake, Uncle,” Shay replied in a voice that was deadly calm and all the more murderous because of it. “Ours is a real marriage.”

Malcolm leveled a knowing look on him. “Not in every way.”

An electric jolt fired through him like a shot. Shay knew what he meant. The marriage bed. Not for the first time since he inherited, a suspicion curled through Shay that his uncle had spies within his household. No—long before that, before his mother ran away with her lover. Even though Shay didn’t move a muscle, such white-hot fury raged through him that his vision turned red.