He almost slapped his forehead the moment the words left his mouth. His words made it seem as if he was not listening to the details of her stories. It was almost patronizing, but Cathy simply smiled.
“I will,” she said softly, and he wondered if leaving her here was a good idea.
He turned around before he could change his mind.
Let’s just hope this endeavor is fruitful.
The journey took him to places that he did not quite expect. The transition from his estate’s manicured lawns to the rugged north was steep. Lush greens turned into faded blues and grays, and the people also looked more battered further up. The particular location his source gave him was rundown and looked like it had been forgotten by time.
What is this place?
Tristan’s carriage stopped at a narrow lane. Weeds grew around the perimeter of one particular house. There were no roses here. The smell was overpowering, though, with its blend of wet earth and dead fish souring his stomach.
“Stay here,” Tristan commanded his coachman. “Keep the horses ready. I do not intend to stay in this place for long.”
He walked the path toward the rundown cottage. He could not believe that someone would betray their flesh and blood for a life that did not seem worth living. The place was miserable, with a thatched roof and grimy windows. A scruffy dog, so thin that its ribs were visible, sat by the porch as if waiting for the Duke.
Tristan did not need to knock. The door was ajar, or rather, it was hanging by its last life on a rusty hinge. The smell was the worst of it, making him back away from the sour ale and unwashed fabrics.
“Who’s there? I told you I would have the coin by Tuesday,” a raspy voice called out from the shadows of the small house.
The Duke peeked in and found Harleigh Quinten sitting by the useless hearth, its fire long extinguished.Empty bottles and broken furniture filled the room. The man was hunched, shoulders dropping, and wearing stained clothes that hung over his body. His gray hair was longish and matted. This was the very man he was looking for, the same one who haunted Cathy’s ledgers. This was the man who left his daughters penniless.
And for what?
“I am not here to collect money from you,” Tristan grunted. He stepped into the house, his boots too loud in the tiny house, letting the light in so that Mr. Quinten could see who he was. This time, he was not afraid to use his formidable height.However, the house seemed to fight back, leaving him feeling claustrophobic in its diminutive size.
Mr. Quinten blinked. Then, he squinted at his unexpected visitor. “Y-you are the Duke of Baxter,” he rasped. “What... what are you doing here?”
“I am here because Cathy is now my wife. And she spends her nights over figures you left for her and her sisters,” Tristan snapped, his hands winding into tight fists.The sight of him strengthened the terrible experience his wife had gone through with this man as her father. He chose his drinks and his cards. “Your disappearance has cost your daughters gravely, Quinten.”
“I... I am not sure I understand.”
When he came closer, the older man trembled, but he had no pity for Mr. Quinten.
“How could you leave your family and your unmarried daughters?” he continued, letting his voice boom in the house. “How could you empty their coffers at the first difficulty to comelive here in such... such filth?”
Quinten raised his filthy hands and looked at them. His bottom lip was wobbly and bruised. No doubt this man had attracted many a fight.Local taverns were prime places for such a thing.
“Your Grace, I am fully aware that I am a worthless father. I only left so I would not be in their way. I was a burden to them. A shame. They were better off without me. I am doing them a kindness by disappearing.”
Tristan barked a bitter laugh. He was astounded. Then, he grabbed his father-in-law by the lapel of his threadbare coat and pulled him up with ease. The dog whimpered as it surveyed the scene.
“You are no martyr, Quinten. If you were, then you would not have brought all their money with you. You are a coward and a thief. You left because youno longer wanted to see the mess you made. Four girls were left behind without dowries because of your folly. If you truly cared for them, you should have left them the coin and taken only your share, though I suspect you have long drained that, too.”
“What do you want from me?” Quinten sobbed. “I have nothing.”
“You are going home to your daughters,” Tristan declared, shoving Quinten into a chair. “You will make yourself presentable. You will shave and dress well. Bathe, man! Take responsibility for your family, as a man should.”
“Why would I do that?”
“I will give you a reason,” Tristan replied, pulling a heavy purse full of coins from his coat pocket. The sound seemed to have caught Quinten’s attention, his eyes flashing. “A whole purseof it. Before you think this money is meant for drinking and gambling, think again. It is for you to clean yourself up and dress yourself in fine clothes. I do not want Cathy’s heart to be broken by seeing her father coming home like a beggar.”
Quinten’s hand trembled from what the Duke understood to be excitement and fear. Still, he stretched his arm to collect his payment.
“There you go, Quinten. This is a loan, not a gift. You repay it by behaving well, or I will find a way to have you pay it back. Do not let me hear that you made the Duchess sad because of your misconduct ever again. She does not deserve it. If you insist on acting miserably, I am not going to be this polite again. I found you once. I can find you again, and the next time, I will not be so forgiving.”
The threat was clear. Tristan could not remember the last time he ever threatened anyone. Not like this. He might have been a rake who frequented clubs with gambling and the occasional women, but he had never been in violent altercations. The women he had affairs with were free to do as they would. They were not innocents, either.