Free An Exquisite Marriage by Darcie Wilde Page B

had come to light the first day Marcus had seated himself at the old man’s desk and started going through the piles of papers. As if the debts and the disastrous investments weren’t enough, at the bottom of the last drawer, he’d discovered a stack of letters tied in pink ribbon. They were from various addresses and written in widely varying hands. Some were in English. Some were in French. All were begging for money. All of them mentioned children.
    Marcus could still remember sorting the letters into separate stacks, and the growing anger and disbelief as he did. There were five women altogether, and among them there were fifteen children.
    Fifteen half brothers and sisters, and those were just the ones he knew about. All of them lived in varying degrees of poverty or infamy, and he could find no sign whatsoever that the old duke had ever once answered any of these letters.
    Bernadette Darington had been his father’s first mistress, and the mother of three of his children. Marcus had gone to her, as he had to them all. He’d put what money he could in their hands immediately. As his income increased, he set up trusts and accounts with discreet bankers for their maintenance. He promised to exert his influence to make sure their children were properly placed, or dowered if they were girls. He’d kept his promise, too.
    Two of them had been angry and bitter, and he could not blame them. Two had been grateful and understanding, and had even apologized to him, an act that left him burning with shame.
    Then there was Bernadette.
    â€œOh, Marcus.” Bernadette’s chin trembled, and a tear glistened in the corner of each dark eye. “Marius has agreed to a duel.”
    â€œWhat?”
    Bernadette clasped her hands together, a picture of anguish. “It was some foolish quarrel over cards, I hardly even know, but there were accusations of cheating . . .”
    â€œThe young idiot!” growled Marcus through clenched teeth. It was endless. If it wasn’t a loss over a horse, it was some business with a woman, or a moneylender, and now this . . .
    Marius Darington was just nineteen. Marcus had tried everything he could think of to settle the boy; university and law, the church, the military. All of these potential paths had been rejected either by the boy himself or his mother.
    Bernadette flung herself against Marcus’s chest and pressed her face into his shoulder. “I’m so frightened! He will have to flee the country He has no money, Marcus. I’ve come to beg you . . .”
    â€œThat much is obvious,” he muttered, and he felt Bernadette freeze in the midst of all her tremblings and flutterings. “I’ll go see the boy.”
    â€œOh no!” Bernadette clutched at his arm. She was wearing a new perfume, he noted, one with a great deal of musk and jasmine. She’d rouged her cheeks, too, and her coat hung open to expose the low neckline of her fine burgundy gown. “He’ll know I came to you. I cannot wound his pride. His sense of honor is so keen. So very much aware of his family’s . . .”
    â€œBernadette.” Marcus took her firmly by the shoulders and moved her a full step back. “Calm yourself. I’m going to talk with the boy. It may not be too late to resolve this issue with a minimum of drama.”
    Bernadette saw his expression and bit her lip, which was already reddened with some particularly dark shade. Her tears broke off with remarkable speed, and she managed a brave smile.
    â€œOh yes.” She blinked up at him. “I know you can make him see reason.” She took in a deep breath, and her bosom swelled. A lot. “He listens to you. He looks up to you so. If only . . .”
    â€œNow is not the time, Bernadette.”
    â€œThen when, Marcus?” she asked quietly. “Marius needs a man’s guidance. The girls need a father.”
    â€œI