Chapter 51 - Fifty One
Delia turned, the key still in her hand, her back pressed against the cold, hard wood of the door. "What?" The word came out as a strangled whisper, lost in the cool night air.
George stepped closer, his face a mask of grave concern, his voice low and urgent. "He set off a wild horse against his own brother, Delia. It was during a hunt years ago. They were both young, competing for their father’s praise. Eric... he wanted to win so badly. The horse went wild, it threw his brother, Philip, and the accident... it made his brother disabled. He caused Philip to limp for the rest of his life."
The story was horrifying, a dark and ugly tale that seemed impossible to associate with the man who had so gently cared for her. Delia was too shocked to speak, her mind reeling, trying to process the terrible accusation.
"The reason the Duke left the family business, the reason he built his own empire from scratch, wasn’t out of ambition," George continued, his voice full of feigned pity. "It was because he didn’t want to fight for the succession with his older brother. He felt guilty, Delia. He knew he didn’t deserve it after what he did. That’s why he lives such a private life now, hidden away in his cabin or this empty house. It’s to avoid bringing the matter back to light, to avoid facing what he did and to protect others from himself."
Delia just stood where she was, frozen, the world tilting on its axis. The man who had promised to protect her, to be her shield... was he capable of such a monstrous act?
George walked to where she stood, his expression softening into one of deep sympathy. "You must be in shock," he said softly. "I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this." He reached out and took her gloved hand in his, slowly putting his fingers in them. It was the first physical touch he had dared since their fallout, and her hand lay limp and cold at his touch.
"But who else is going to tell you the truth, Delia?" he murmured, his eyes searching hers. "Who else in this world cares about you as much as I do?" Before she could react, he enveloped her shocked, supple body in an embrace. He pulled her close, his breath warm on her neck, his voice a tickling, insidious whisper in her ear. "So come back to me, Delia. It’s not too late. Let’s try again."
The unwanted closeness, the feel of his arms around her, the hypocrisy of his words—it was the jolt she needed. Her shock solidified into a white-hot rage.
Getting her bearings, she pushed against his chest with all her might and delivered a slap so hard and loud it echoed in the silent courtyard.
"How dare you?" she seethed, pointing a trembling finger at him. "How dare you touch another man’s woman, an engaged woman to be precise? Stay away from me!"