Night of Pleasure Read Online Free Page B

you had done everything, he would be recovering. If you had done everything, he would be—”
    “Derek, cease.” The viscount dragged his linen up to his waist, his breaths wheezing. “You…you mean to hold him accountable? He cannot make me breathe.”
    Oh God. Derek tried to remain calm.
    “Thank you, Mr. Shire,” his father announced. “You may…may retire.”
    “I will remain close at hand, my lord.” The doctor removed his apron, bundled it and took up his medicine chest. He left the room, closing the door.
    His father gritted his teeth, his breaths uneven. “I have actually known about my condition for…for some time. I simply didn’t want you and Andrew to…to worry.” He drew in several more breaths. “I had your mother swear that…that she…she wouldn’t…say anything. God knows how difficult it has been for her, especially with you…you boys in school.” Sweat-soaked, shoulder-length dark hair clung to the sides of his father’s flushed, unshaven face. He shifted. “The priest will be arriving within the hour. Do you…do you understand?”
    Derek pinched his lips hard in an effort not to cry.
    The viscount pointed. “Just because I’m dying before I have greyed…doesn’t mean my life wasn’t golden. So no tears. I…I don’t want to see any tears.” His gaze became penetrating and full of purpose. “I need you to be strong.”
    Derek’s eyes burned as he struggled to obey. The pain of impending loss ripping at his chest was almost too vast to contain.
    His father paused. “What happened to your…forehead?”
    Derek swallowed, knowing that while he’d been romancing Miss Grey, his father had been in here suffering and unable to breathe. “I was being stupid. I earned it. It’s nothing.”
    “Ah.” His father crackled out a few phlegmy coughs, clearing his throat thickly before continuing. “Pardon my level of…of seriousness, but I…I wish to discuss a matter of importance regarding the estate.”
    Derek tried to focus but all he kept seeing were those trembling hands and that suffering, gaunt face. It haunted him. He was never going to know this great man in the way he always wanted to. Man to man. Over cards. Over brandy. Derek was graduating from Eton in only a few months. It meant nothing now.
    “Are you…you listening?”
    Derek searched his father’s face. “Yes. I am.”
    “Sit.”
    Derek sat on the bed, angling closer.
    The viscount smiled and held out a trembling hand.
    Grasping that large cool hand, Derek met those tired dark eyes that still tried to smile. Derek struggled to maintain his composure as slightly larger fingers gripped his weakly. The skin was dry and overly rough. Nothing like the hand he’d arm-wrestled with during Twelfth Night months earlier.
    The viscount shook Derek’s hand. “For the sake of your mother and…and brother, be…be everything you are and…and more. As for Rupert, whom you have already met, he will be…be staying in London to assist you through the hardship my…my death will bring.” His father pushed out several ragged breaths, shifting against the large pillow. “He will be contributing money to the…the estate over the next few years.” His hold tightened and he smiled with quaking lips. “He has agreed to…to join our families. I wish to congratulate you on…on your betrothal to…to Miss Clementine Henrietta Grey.”
    Derek’s heart skidded to a halt. Holy God.
    “Mind you, she is still…very young. Only…fourteen.”
    Derek closed his eyes in disbelief knowing how he’d behaved. He’d thought she was closer to his own age and could handle it. No wonder she had panicked.
    “Rupert insists that she…she wait beyond the typical debutante years to…to ensure she is well versed for her role as…as an aristocratic lady. You will therefore wait seven years until…until she is a full one and twenty.”
    Derek opened his eyes. His throat tightened, wondering how he was ever going to face Miss Grey again.