“Don’t you want to know who your visitor is?”
Raven bit back a curse. He’d forgotten all about that. “If it’s not Hellcat, who is it?”
Richard’s smile widened. “Your esteemed grandfather.”
Raven sank back into the pillows with a groan. “Oh bloody hell. What does he want?”
That was just typical of the sneaky old buzzard, taking advantage of the only moment of weakness he’d had in the last few years. Raven was in no physical shape to either physically eject him from the house or to escape himself.
“The same thing he’s wanted for the past six years, I expect,” Richard said. “Your forgiveness. A reconciliation. Although I quite understand why you hate him so much. The bastarddoeswant to give you thousands of pounds and the title of marquis.” His mouth curled at his own sarcasm. “How utterly unreasonable.”
“It’s not as simple as that and you know it.”
“I know he’s a wily old devil, just like you. And I think he’s doing whatever he can to make amends for past mistakes.”
Raven closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. He knew exactly what Heloise would say about the matter. She’d tell him to let go of the past and forgive his grandfather. But then, she was so much more merciful than Raven was.
Richard smiled an evil smile. “I’ll tell him to come up, shall I?”
Chapter 42
“Your grandfather, sir,” a footman intoned.
Raven didn’t bother to bite back a curse. Instead he took the opportunity to study the figure that entered the room. There was no doubt that they were related. It was like looking at an older image of himself: the same green eyes, same straight nose. The duke’s hair was gray now, but still, the similarities were undeniable.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your esteemed company, sir?”
The Duke of Avondale’s mouth curved into a cynical smile that Raven had seen reflected in his own mirror a thousand times. “My doctor recently suggested that bracing coastal weather might be beneficial to my health.”
“Ah. The condition of your health is always a subject that interests me greatly.”
His grandfather acknowledged the acidic double-edged politeness with an inclination of the head. “Indeed. I heard you were indisposed from my good friend Castlereagh.”
He seemed supremely indifferent to the animosity rolling off Raven.
“I’ve no need of a nursemaid. It’s too late to act concerned about my welfare now.”
The old man crossed the room, leaning heavily on his gold-topped cane. He sat next to the bed, in the chair Richard had vacated. His eyes met Raven’s. “I am sorry for what happened, William. More than you will ever know.”
Raven turned his head away and stared blankly out the window. “I don’t care. I don’t want your apology, I want you to leave.”
“Have you never done something in the heat of the moment that you bitterly regretted afterward?” the duke asked softly. “Something you’d do anything in your power to take back, if you could.”
Raven squeezed his eyes shut. He wished he could close his ears, too, to block out the patient, reasonable words. Damn him. He thought of Heloise, of the way he’d treated her.Shame rolled through him, so acute he winced. He’d acted in anger and jealousy and fear, and hurt the one person he’d sworn to protect. Even worse, unlike his grandfather,he’ddone it with full knowledge of the pain he was inflicting.
“Go away.”
His grandfather ignored the command. “I’ve had six years to regret what happened when you were kidnapped, William. I was proud and stubborn and I didn’t want some criminal bastard to have the upper hand over me. So instead of agreeing to his demands I hired my own men to find you. But they took too long. I should have just paid the ransom and had you back again, and to hell with the money and my pride. I’m sorry.”
Raven couldn’t bring himself to speak. He stared at the clouds scudding across the sky beyond the wavy panes of glass.
The duke sighed. “I have something for you.”
From the corner of his eye Raven saw him rest his cane against the bed and remove a gold signet ring from his left hand. He placed it on the coverlet by Raven’s hip, careful not to touch him.
“That was your father’s. He gave it to your mother as an engagement ring. Every Marquis of Ormonde has worn it, for over three hundred years. It’s yours. Even if you still refuse to accept the title.” A hint of humor warmed his voice. “Perhaps you’ll have need of it, too.”
That startled Raven enough to turn his head. “How so, sir?”