If Jonas were capable of crying, he’d have done so days ago. It was probably a good thing he hadn’t. Any sign of weakness would have set his grandfather off. He had to be brave, and somehow find the strength to move on sooner than he’d like. His father deserved to be mourned, but he’d understand why Jonas couldn’t openly do it. “I’m ready now.” Jonas didn’t look at Lord Coventry. He spun on his heels and began the long trek back to Southington Castle. He hated his grandfather’s home—it was as cold as he was. There wasn’t anything welcoming about it.
“Lord Harrington—”
“Don’t call me that,” Jonas interrupted. The sound of his father’s title shot pain through his already aching heart. He didn’t want to think or feel. Everything reminded him of his father and the loss that he couldn’t escape. The title… That was more than he could bear.
Lord Coventry cleared his throat. “It’s who you are now.”
“That may be.” Jonas swallowed hard. “But filling my father’s shoes is something I’m not yet prepared for. I can’t hear his title without thinking of him and what I’ve lost.”
“I understand,” Coventry said and sighed. “You’re too young to have lost your father already. If I had a son…” He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. You have a long road ahead of you, and there’s probably no one you feel you can trust. You might not know it yet, but you can trust me.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “What would you like me to call you?”
“Nothing,” Jonas said. “I doubt we will see each other again after today.”
The older man laughed. It was a foreign sound, considering their surroundings. Sadness permeated everything around them, yet the earl had found something humorous. Coventry seemed like a likeable sort and in another time, Jonas may have liked him. Somehow, he doubted he’d find anything appealing or even joyous for a long time.
Coventry gestured toward the castle in the distance. “We shall see. Come, let’s get out of this rain.”
The earl followed behind Jonas as they entered the castle. He didn’t stay long after that. He’d spoken to the duke quietly before his departure, and the duke didn’t argue or order the earl around. That alone made Jonas wonder what they’d discussed.
“Now that everyone is gone we have some things to discuss, boy.” His grandfather stormed across the room and glared down at him. “Starting with your education… I was going to keep you here, but Coventry made a good point. You’ll need to make connections, and those are rooted in school. So, I’ll allow you to return to Eton—at least for the rest of this school year. We’ll revisit that idea before the next term.”
He owed the earl far more than he realized. Never had he truly believed his grandfather would allow him to return to school. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” his grandfather said gruffly. “We have a lot of work ahead of us to prepare you for the dukedom.”
He was barely an earl, and now he had to worry about grandfather’s title? Jonas wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep for days—no, weeks. That was the cowardly way though, and he refused to give in to it. “Where is Mother?”
“She’s gone to live with her sister,” he replied. “Your mother is too delicate for Southington. Don’t worry. Your father made sure she’d be provided for.”
His mother had abandoned him? He’d always been closer to his father, but still… She left him alone with the duke, and she was well aware of his brutish nature. He had no problems using his fists to make a point. The Harrington title was prestigious, but he wouldn’t have control of the estate for many years. They had plenty of funds as long as they did what the duke wanted. His father had decided to cut as many ties as possible with Southington. They lived in a small townhouse in London, and his father had invested in a profitable shipping company with the income he had available. They didn’t live in splendor, but they’d been comfortable.
None of it had made the duke happy, but then nothing could. He liked having control over his family, and losing it had made him cut them out of his life. That was until his father died and he saw a way to wiggle his way back in. Now, Jonas was his ward until he gained full access to his inheritance. It was not a huge sum, but it would be enough for him to break free.
“May I be excused?” The duke hit Jonas’s mouth with his fist before he was fully prepared for its impact. Jonas jerked backward involuntarily, but then gained control as quick as possible. He lifted his gaze and stared the duke in the eye, repeating his request, “May I be excused now?” Leaving without permission would prolong the torture, and he didn’t want another punch to the face, or anywhere else.
The duke nodded, and Jonas left as fast as his feet would carry him. He didn’t run as he wanted to because he would not give in to the duke’s bullying. If he darted out of the room, his grandfather would find a reason to make him stay. Instead, he walked briskly and steadily until he reached his chambers. Only then, once the door was closed and he had privacy, did he give in to the emotions raging through him. The tears he’d held in finally flowed freely, and he grieved for his father.
London, 1812
Jonas picked up the glass of brandy on the table and took a drink. He set it back down and stared at the cards in his hand. So far, luck hadn’t been on his side, and he was steadily losing what funds he had. He should have given up a long time ago but stupidly thought he’d win if he kept playing. Freedom had led him astray when it should
