* * *
Leaving his horse with Daniel, Evan mounted the steep steps to the main entrance of Lisbret House. At the top, he turned and looked back, his chest seizing in a vise of habitual panic as he took in the long, winding driveway and the towering black gates at the end, perpetually closed against the moors beyond. He had stared out of his bedchamber window at that view a million times, praying to one day muster the courage to flee. He had not thought that, by returning, he would feel trapped again.
He drew in a breath and thought of Olivia, and all the happiness that lay before him, if he was just courageous enough to seize it with both hands. It worked like a tonic, taking the sharp edge off the trapped, panicked feeling, softening it to a more manageable fear, like entering a hedge maze with a pair of shears. No matter what happened, he could escape; he would never be trapped here again.
Shaking off the last of the uneasy sensation, he rapped the brass knocker against the door and waited.
The door opened a short while later, revealing the same butler who had turned a blind eye to Evan’s torment: a man who had fawned over Evan’s father as if he were some sort of king among men.
The butler’s eyes flew wide. “Master Thorne?” he whispered, using the old title that Evan had been given during his childhood.
“Is my father in residence?” Evan replied curtly, hating the sight of the man who had not only ignored his suffering, but had, on occasion, added to it by barring his exit or ensuring he was given no food or by standing outside his bedchamber, ringing a bell, so Evan could not sleep.
The butler gulped. “He is, Master Thorne.”
“Tell him I am here and expect an audience with him. I shall be in the drawing room.” Evan did not wait to be allowed inside, pushing past the butler without another word.
It was strange how well Evan remembered the manor, finding his way to the drawing room without issue. The house smelled the same, looked the same, and had the same oppressive air that he had breathed for six-and-ten years of his life. And in the drawing room, the portrait of his grandfather—a man he had never met—still presided over everything, his face immortalized in a scowl.
Shuddering a little, Evan sat down in the armchair where his father always sat, claiming some power before his father, Martin, even entered the room.
Evan did not have to wait long. Within minutes, the drawing room door opened, and Martin stepped inside, dressed as if he was just on his way to a ball. But his black cravat was too tight around his neck, giving the impression of jowls he did not possess, and strands of hair stuck up where they had been hastily oiled. In truth, Martin looked flustered.
“You are in my chair,” his father said.
Evan smoothed his palms along the cracked leather armrests. “I did not realize.” He made no motion to move. “Please, sit.”
Martin’s eyes flickered, but he reluctantly sat down upon the settee opposite. “I was not expecting you so soon.”
“But youwereexpecting me?” Evan arched a dubious eyebrow.
In a matter of seconds, Martin’s entire demeanor shifted to one of cruel delight, a lopsided smirk forming upon his pale lips. “Of course.” He sank back into the settee, making himself comfortable. “I always knew you would come to your senses and return to me, to learn from me what it means to be a duke. Naturally, I had planned for you to return here with a wife, but that is easily remedied.”
“Oh, I am not here to stay,” Evan said coolly. “I am here on behalf of Master Thorne.”
“Pardon?” Martin’s brow creased in confusion.
“The son you tortured and tormented. You have not forgotten him so quickly, have you?” Evan’s heart hammered in his chest, but he breathed through it, determined to stay calm. “He has requested that I tell you exactly what he thinks of you, so that I may continue my life in peace and happiness, without you ever crossing my mind again.”
Martin snorted. “What nonsense is this?”
“I was your only child, Father. Your only son.” Evan sat up straighter. “You were supposed to nurture me and raise me with affection, like my Uncle Lionel. In the ten years that he not only welcomed me, but wholeheartedly accepted me, into his residence, he was more of a father to me than you have ever been. He was everything you are not, and even now, people speak his name with respect and reverence. What do they say about you, Father?”
Martin’s lip curled. “Why should I care what is said about me? The less said, the better, as you ought to know.”
“Uncle Lionel taught me what I was missing,” Evan continued. “He taught me what you should have been, and everything you lack as a gentleman and a father. You were supposed to be firm yet fair, teaching me to be a good man and an honorable Duke, but you treated me like a stray dog instead. You beat me, often without cause. You starved me, you neglected me, you almost killed me on more occasions than I care to count, and yet you think I would ever return to you?” He laughed coldly. “Father, I want nothing to do with you.”
“Yet, you are here.” Martin smiled.
“For the last time, yes,” Evan replied. “I am here to tell you that Iama good man, and I will be a good husband and a good father, as unlike you as it is possible to be. I am here to tell you that you will not ruin my life again, not even for a moment.”
Martin folded his arms across your chest. “You have done that by yourself. Idisciplinedyou, and not well enough, by society’s reckoning. If you are ever to be married, you will need me.” He tilted his chin up in defiance. “Your reputation will make it impossible, otherwise.”
“My reputation is as false as any word you have ever spoken about caring for me,” Evan shot back, his satisfaction building with every moment. “All of those rumors in the scandal sheets were put there by me. I wanted to make myself so… appalling to society, particularly the ladies, that they would judge you for raising me in such a manner, that they would spurn you, that no lady would ever want me, thus ending your bloodline.”
Martin faltered, rocking forward. “Pardon?”
“I lied, Father. It is all a lie. And when society hears your name, all they think is, “there is the wretch who could not even drag up his despicable son.” They look down upon you because of me,” Evan answered with a smile. “But I am here to grant you clemency, just this one time.”
