Page 8 of A Rake’s Gamble

“He murdered... Hold, on, you knew?”

Theo breathed out slowly. “I suspected. Maids often disappeared when I was growing up.”

“How could not call him a fool?”

“He was a callous mean man, and a gambler, but not a fool. Everything he did was deliberate.” Theo would never call his father a fool because it implied that he didn’t know what he was doing, and Theo knew that his father absolutely had control over what he was doing. He knew that because his father never lost his temper around anyone he deemed important, only with people he had power over. Even when he was gambling away the estate, it was a deliberate choice and his father believed—wrongly—that he was in charge and winning.

“A fool might’ve been able to be stopped, but my father believed in his own power and control. It was all deliberate.” He repeated himself on purpose, for his own sake too, because it needed to be said and emphasised. Theo’s heart thudded slowly as if in shock and unable to beat quickly as—for the first time in his life—he spoke about his father’s terrible choices out loud.

“Oh.” Mr Milnes’s stricken expression was a mirror to Theo’s internal horror. When his father had died, Theo had hoped that everything would be buried with him, and now... He gulped and looked down at the envelope.

“What is this?”

“A letter from my friend. I wanted you to read it, but maybe it doesn’t matter.” Mr Milnes’ downcast expression was so sad, and Theo knew that it still mattered. He carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the paper inside.

‘If I die, my husband killed me. I’m so scared.’

“This is from my mother?” Theo was confused. His mother had died in childbed when he was only three, leaving just Carlynne and himself, and his father had never remarried, preferring to keep mistresses in the Dower house. He hadn’t understood until he was much older just how perverted that was and how young the mistresses were.

“No. Rose was our age.”

He dropped the letter and it fluttered down onto the card table. “This is from Rose?” Rose was one of the few mistresses that Theo had met. It’d been an accident, when he was home from school one summer, and he’d noticed her standing near the cliffs. He started talking to her—they were both around sixteen-years-old—and she was very beautiful in a fragile, ethereal type of way. It was when he first started to realise that his father kept young women in the Dower house, and then one day, she disappeared.

“Yes. Rose. She was my friend. She married your father and then he killed her.”

Theo stared at Mr Milnes. “He never—”

Mr Milnes thumped him on the chest with both palms. “He killed her.”

“Yes.” Theo stiffened his spine, using his height to hold his ground. He didn’t know that his father had killed Rose. Back then, he’d believed the staff when they said she’d fallen down the stairs.

“He didn’t marry her though. He didn’t marry any of them.” Theo shook his head.

“Rose wouldn’t lie.”

Theo closed his eyes. And it suddenly hit him, harder than Mr Milnes’ outrage. He’d always known his father was selfish, but he’d assumed for a long time that he was the regular type of neglectful selfish father that many of his peers also had. Now he realised that all his hidden fears were true; his father wasn’t just selfish. He was a cheat and a murderer. Rose’s accident might have been more than that. She might have been pushed, which made Mr Milnes right. He leaned closer to Mr Milnes, soaking up his outrage as if he’d been the one who deserved it.

“My father absolutely lied though. All the time to everyone. I always wondered how he managed to convince all those young women to stay when they should’ve been running away. It would make sense if they all believed they were married to him.” His whole body was cold, swaying slightly, like Rose had been that day near the cliffs as if she might fall. Had he saved her only for her to die anyway? No, he couldn’t have such morbid thoughts when he would never know the answer. He’d learned that as a soldier. Sometimes your time was up and there was no reason for it; no reason why one man would die, and another survive. Fate or luck or God or whatever it was; every soldier had their own way of trying to make sense of it.

“Fuck.”

A sentiment Theo agreed with. “I’m so sorry.” Theo wished he could use such lower-class language; it was the most appropriate way to sum up ... well, everything.

“Why are you sorry? Did you stand by and do nothing while my friend was killed? Did you try to stop him?”

Theo shook his head. “I should’ve tried.”

“He would probably kill you too.”

“No. I’m the heir. I’d always be protected because he wanted his legacy to continue.” Theo hung his head, knowing how much his privileged position protected him, while he’d done nothing to stop his father. He deserved the frown and frustrated glare from Mr Milnes.

“Wait, you said all those young women. How many?” Mr Milnes’ lack of selfishness only emphasised his own.

“I don’t know. Too many.” Theo wished he had answers, but he really didn’t want to know the answer.

“One is too many.”

“I agree.”