Discovering the Devil

T w o

His father was here.

Harry sauntered into Hawthorne Castle with ease, as if his father's mere presence didn't set him on edge. He had a five minute chat with his valet and then a word with a scullery maid, and then he changed out of his dreadfully wet clothes. It was only after lighting a pipe (the Duke of Fordham hated the smell of tobacco) and smoking its contents did he finally go to the library where he knew his father was waiting.

"Papa," Harry said casually, depositing himself on a plush seat. "You're here."

The Duke of Fordham gave his son a once-over. "I assume you saw my carriage when you arrived."

"I assume you know it's polite to give notice before calling," Harry returned smoothly.

"These are polite hours of the day. It's not uncommon to call without sending word first."

"It is when you haven't seen your host in a decade."

The duke smiled thinly. "All the more reason to call."

Harry mirrored his father's empty smile. "Was there a specific reason you came here?"

"Only to see how my son was getting on." That was rich. He hadn't cared how his son was getting on in years. They'd gone with zero communication for ten years, not even so much as a letter.

"He's getting on well," Harry said dryly.

"He also doesn't have a wife," The duke replied, with equal wryness.

Harry shouldn't be surprised. His stepmother, the Duchess of Fordham, probably hadn't produced any heirs. Any male heirs, that is. Not after Harry had killed the last one. Now, it looked like his father was putting his affairs in order. There were wears on his face that hadn't been there before. He'd aged. And now, as he stared mortality in the face, he wanted to make sure his dukedom lived on.

"No he does not."

The duke had been leaning over Harry's table. He now moved to be seated adjacent to his son. "I won't pretend I'm not eager to see you see you wed. You're nine and twenty. It's time."

"Is it?"

"It is," the duke said stoutly. "I know that your current state isn't completely your fault. Your reputation... It certainly scares women away."

The mention of his reputation from his father's lips vexed Harry further. "Which part do you think scares them most, Papa? The fact that I killed my brother or the fact that I'm rumored to be the devil?"

"You're rumored to be the devil because you killed your brother." The duke paused, choosing his next words carefully. "It was a horrible accident, Harry. I know that now."

The temper that Harry was fighting so hard to keep was begging to be unleashed. "Thank you. It means so much to know my father finally believes me after all these years," he said coldly.

"I was unfair," the duke continued. "I shouldn't have sent you away."

"You're remembering it wrong," Harry reminded him. "I left on my own accord."

"Still." The duke's eyebrows bent in consternation. "I let you leave without any coin to speak of. It wasn't right."

"I managed," Harry said, gesturing to the library around them. Ten years prior, Hawthorne Castle had been an empty ghost of a residence. He'd given it life. He'd taken the earldom his father had given him, and what little money he'd saved at twenty, and built his fortune.

"You did," the duke agreed. "All the same, you shouldn't have had to do that." The Duke, ever controlled and stoic, played with a loose button on his overcoat. He was nervous. Harry didn't know whether that should make him laugh or scream.