“I am tired of repeating myself, sir. You know very well I did not shoot Lily, that I would shoot myself first.”
The baron said, “It doesn’t surprise me that you have ice water in your veins. Your father was the same way. You couldn’t frighten him, couldn’t make him tremble or quake, no matter what you said, no matter what you threatened. You never knew your father—a pity, really, for you would have admired him greatly. But he was an old man when your mother became pregnant with you. When I was a young man, he was a god to me, strong and powerful, ruling everything and everyone in his sight. He spent more time at Ravenscar than he did at his home, Mount Burney. He always loved it, the way it hunkered out over the water, the way its very presence was a threat to any enemy. He once said, I remember, that if he were a house, he would be Ravenscar—solid and enduring, and fine-looking, of course.”
Julian had never heard anything like this about his father, particularly from Baron Purley. His father—a foolish old man, he’d always thought him, even though his mother had never said anything of the sort to him. But Lorelei Monroe, his sister-in-law and the current Duchess of Brabante, had endlessly criticized the old duke, and he saw now her words had burrowed deep inside him, and he’d believed her. He felt something inside him move. He swallowed. He said slowly, “You said my father was powerful? Strong?”
Rupert nodded. “His physical strength, it was legend, but he also had a brain and speech that could mesmerize.
“His heir, your estimable half-brother Constantine, has never seemed to have the same sense of knowing who he was and his place in the world. That sounds strange, I know, given Constantine manages his ducal estates with intelligence and fairness. No, you are more like your father than Constantine is—a foolish name, I heard your father say once, but it fit the lad. As for your name, he told me it was a right and just name for you. Do you know why he selected it for you?”
Julian shook his head.
“Julian—after Julius Caesar, an emperor over millions of souls, a man above all other men in his time, a man with vision and fortitude. He told me you wouldn’t ever be a duke—you would be more. You would be a prince.”
Julian knew none of this. He said, “It is disconcerting to hear myself called prince by all here in Cornwall.”
“It doesn’t matter. As I said, it was your father’s commandment. All grew very used to calling you prince. It is what he wanted for you, and so it was. When the end was drawing near for him, he murmured, ‘My son is the Prince of Ravenscar.’ I see you did not know this. So your father never told your mother why he wished you to be called Prince.”
“When I asked my mother if I was indeed a prince, she told me only that it was what my father called me, and all followed suit.” He gave a twisted grin. “She said I was to accept it and not fret. Nothing more.” He paused, shook his head. “After Julius Caesar—my father had visions of grandeur I will never attain.”
“You are already making your mark in the modern world. Ah, your glorious mother. Your father took one look at your mother and fell tip over arse. He wanted her powerfully. Nothing Constantine s
aid, nothing the duke’s friends said, could make him change his mind. I believe he died a very content man. Your mother was so very young, innocent, and beautiful, maybe three pence to her family’s name, but they were a rapacious lot, eager to sell her to the old man. Your father didn’t care. What need had he of more money? He wanted your mother, paid her father a lot of money for her, married her, and told her family he never wished to see them again.
“When you were born, your father was happier than he’d been at Constantine’s birth. As I said, you are very much like him. And like no other—you are the prince.”
Julian said slowly, “You have known me all my life. Why have you never told me this before? You have never before spoken to me of my father—I believed him a foolish old man.”
“Forgive me, I didn’t know. Time passes so quickly and one forgets. I remember after your father died, your mother considered taking you, an infant, back to her family. Luckily, both her father and mother died of a virulent fever that struck their neighborhood. There were only cousins, none of whom she cared for, so she came to me for assistance, assistance I freely offered.”
Julian said, “I asked her once about her family, but she said they were dead. But years passed, sir, yet you never said anything to me.”
The baron shrugged. “One focuses on the present, on the people who must be dealt with, those who distract and confuse and create havoc. Things are different now.”
“Tell me more about my father.”
“It is a pity you never had the joy of knowing him, knowing how proud he would be of you. He was not only a man to admire, he was a man who saw people clearly, both men and women. Just as you do, Julian.”
Julian’s heart drummed slowly. He had no words, only feelings he’d thought wouldn’t ever exist for him.
“I’ll never forget one day I visited Ravenscar and was shown into your father’s estate room. He stood in the middle of the room, rocking you in his arms, and the joy on his face moved me unutterably. ‘Look at my boy, Rupert—is he not meant to do great things? He is the prince; he is my gift to the world.’ His heart failed him two weeks later.
“I wish the animosity to be done with. To intimate I was nearing my just rewards seemed the only way to get you here after what happened three years ago. I have also come to realize that Richard’s wound has festered, not healed.”
“He wants to kill me or hurt those I care about.”
“That does not surprise me. You left England, and he refused to see that you did not leave to escape your guilt, you left to escape your grief. Richard is not pleased that I invited you here to make peace, but I told him it was time he got on with things, to leave the past in the past, where it belongs.
“Will he listen? I must doubt it, for he is more stubborn than I am.” He paused for a moment. “You know, your father was more stubborn than the two of us together.”
Julian didn’t know.
“And then, of course, there was Lily, but we will not speak of her now.
“Let us go in to dinner. My ribs are rubbing against my backbone. Also, I wish to meet Corinne’s protégées, one of whom I hear you are to wed.” He frowned, consulted his watch. “It is late.”
“No wedding, sir.”
The baron lifted a brow at this but said nothing more. As Julian preceded the baron out of the library, he turned. “I wish to know every single memory you have of my father.”