Free Duke of Darkness by Anabelle Bryant

father offended her that evening as well?
    In the morning, things had appeared as normal and Devlin had dared not mention the episode. Yet a child does not empathize with the emotions of their parent, tied too closely to the immediacy that comprises childhood. Instead Devlin lived each day as if separate, never pausing to string together the endless weeks, months and years of his father’s aberrant behaviour or to consider the terrible unhappiness it caused his mother.
    And yet, Devlin had only known happiness in his time spent with her. His mother never allowed her despair to overflow into their outings. He remembered her lovely smile, gentle laughter and comforting hands. Most of all, he missed her innate ability to make him feel extraordinarily special.
    Still he hadn’t been enough to ease her pain or to nourish her desire to continue living. Perhaps that barb cut the deepest. It haunted him over the years without answer and created a well of guilt and vulnerability no matter how hard he attempted to bury his emotions. At times he’d deluded himself into believing she did not take her life at all, that there existed another explanation, some cause still unknown, to explain why she would leave him so utterly alone. As years passed, he discarded the fanciful notion.
    Now painful memories contrasted sharply with the cheerful images of his mother’s rooms. The loss of truthful information concerning her passing festered, bitter and unsettled. For years he sought any tiny fact to lead to a better understanding of his past, but discovered nothing. As a child, he’d missed the moments every child favours: a bedtime story read, a picnic shared. Yet as a man, he mourned not just a life grown without a mother, but a true understanding of what had taken the relationship from him. It cut twice as deep to have the first loss and lack of explanation to follow.
    The maudlin mood could not take hold. A streak of white fur flashed, followed by King’s insistent bark. Not a blink later, the sheepdog lumbered forward and with a clumsy lurch knocked into two large towers of boxes, sending the entire foyer into disarray with nothing more than the bulk of his body. The puppy raced over the boxes in frantic escape, climbing, sinking and struggling to accomplish the foyer floor before King pursued him. Reeston, his butler austere lost, picked his way among the boxes and lids in an attempt to grasp the tiny terrier without disrupting additional piles. Devlin bit back a guffaw and took pity on his old friend.
    “Reeston, get King. He is much easier to catch. I’ll go after Henry, the little rodent.”
    “Thank you, Your Grace.”
    Devlin bounded up the staircase with the same agility the little pup showed only seconds before. He checked left and right when he reached the top, and after hearing a distant yip, turned towards the west wing. It made sense that Henry should seek his own bed. Only the devil could instigate such havoc as both dogs escaped their confinement in a matter of minutes. At least peace would be restored once Lexi took the offending little pup to her new home.
    He paused with the abrupt conclusion and shook his head in consternation. His lips twisted in grim realization: the thought disturbed him more than he cared to acknowledge. Besides, the notion was so far away, it didn’t necessitate serious consideration. How foolish to miss something he’d enjoyed such a short time. “Addled-minded nonsense,” he murmured aloud.
    Henry’s insistent barking pulled his attention to the long hall ahead, yet his steps slowed as he entered the west wing. Every door remained locked. How unwelcoming it must be for Alexandra as she ventured to her bedchamber each evening. Without thought, he’d banished her to this part of the house, a wing secluded and unfriendly, while his mother had intended the opposite effect.
    He would ask Lexi if she wished to change rooms. At the root of the hasty decision, he wanted to keep his ward as far