Page 113 of Duke with a Desire

“Thank you,” Apollo told the footman. “I shall carry on from here myself.”

With a nod, the lad scurried away, leaving Apollo to turn the latch and step inside. Lord Timothy was seated at a chair by the hearth, a bottle of spirits in one hand, hair mussed as if he had been worriedly running his fingers through it. At Apollo’s approach, his spine went stiff and he sat up. Apollo made certain the door closed behind him.

“Prestwick?” Melville shot to his feet. “What are you doing in my study?”

“Paying you a call, clearly.”

“I am not accepting calls at the moment.”

“Yes, I can see why,” he said mildly. “You do look a bit disheveled. However, this call cannot wait.”

“Of course it can,” Melville blustered, a greasy lock of hair falling over his brow. “It must wait. This is beyond the pale, demanding entry to my home.”

“Oh, I didn’t demand,” Apollo reassured him, smiling. “I merely pointed out the wisdom of allowing a duke to come inside.”

“Did you dare to threaten my footman?”

He pressed a hand to his heart. “I am cut to the quick. I did no such thing.”

“Here now, if this is about my visit to Lady Corbett, I must insist you go. I am guardian to the children, and I am fully within my right to see that they are raised in a household that possesses the morals my brother would have wanted.”

“Ah yes.” He gestured toward the half-empty bottle of spirits. “A morally superior home where the man of the house gets soused and has been misusing the funds entrusted to him for the sake of his nephew to pay off his gambling debts. Shall I go on? You may be surprised to know that we have some acquaintances in common.”

Lord Timothy stiffened, but his expression remained impassive. “I have no notion what you are trying to claim, Prestwick.”

“I suspect you do, but since you’re being deliberately obtuse, I’ll play your game. Not your favorite game, mind you. It wouldn’t do for you to go into further debt when you lose.”

The color fled the other man’s face.

“That’s right,” Apollo said softly. “I know all about how heavily you’ve been gambling. I know you were borrowing extensively from Corbett to stay afloat and that, more than likely, his debts are yours. I know you’re still gambling, and I also know you’ve been frequenting certain establishments that I hardly think your wife would be pleased to know about. Places where men pay to be birched.”

He paused, allowing his subtle threats to sink in before continuing.

“You didn’t think I would allow you to berate my betrothed and threaten to remove her children from her care without taking action of my own, did you? I reckon you did, but now you’re discovering just how wrong you were. It may be easy to bully women and children, but you’ll not find it so easy to do so with me.”

“You scoundrel,” Lord Timothy growled. “You have no proof of any of the accusations you’ve thrown at me. It’s lies, all of it.”

He tsked and shook his head. “Come now, don’t dig the hole larger, hmm? You just may find it becomes a grave.”

“Are you daring to threaten my life?” Lord Timothy gasped, incredulous.

And, if his wide eyes were any indication, also terrified.

Apollo drummed his fingers on a nearby table. “I don’t make threats, my lord. I make promises. So here is what I promise you. I am going to marry Lady Corbett, and together, we will raise her children. You will relinquish any claims to them, and you will stay far away from us all. If you so much as breathe in my future wife’s direction in a way she dislikes, I will immediately unleash hell upon you. I’ll see that your debts are called in at once. I’ll make certain all London, including your wife and children, know that you frequent brothels that cater to a certain predilection. I won’t stop until you are thoroughly ruined in the eyes of polite society.”

If at all possible, Lord Timothy’s pallor had increased, a sheen of sweat on his upper lip. “You don’t have that kind of power, Prestwick. You’re trying to frighten me into giving you what you want. But I’ll not do it. I have a duty to my brother’s wishes to look after his children, and that is what I intend to do.”

He turned. “I’ll just go and have a little chat with Lady Timothy then, shall I?”

“No.” Lord Timothy shot toward him, hand outstretched in entreaty. “There’s no need for that.”

“There’s every need, unless you agree to my conditions,” he countered smoothly.

They exchanged glares, Apollo not wavering.

Finally, Lord Timothy snarled, “Very well. You win. I will forfeit my rights as guardian to the children in exchange for your silence.”

“Say it,” he demanded. “The children will stay with their mother where they belong.”