Bracing her shoulders, she stepped inside his study.
The sight of him was more shocking than she expected, even after Lady March's warning. The once noble Duke of Eversley was sprawled in a chair, his clothing as unkempt as his disreputable footman's, his blue eyes bleary and bloodshot as he scowled at her.
He had obviously been drinking, for his words were slurred when he spoke. "What the devil are you doing here? I told you I never wanted to set eyes on you again."
"Hello, Father," she said steadily. "Lady March said you were faring poorly."
"It is none of your business how I fare, you ungrateful wretch." Morosely, he lifted his glass of port wine to his lips and tossed off the remainder of the contents. "You are no daughter of mine. You defied my wishes, wedding a criminal on the gallows, shaming me… I should have taken my whip to you."
"Be very glad you didn't," Nicholas said chillingly beside her.
The duke's glance shifted to him. "Who the devil are you?"
Nicholas's smile did not reach his eyes. "The criminal's cousin, Brandon Deverill."
"Get out – and take her with you." Eversley raised his hand and pointed toward the door. "I won't have that whore in my house."
Aurora drew back as if slapped, but when Nicholas took a step forward, she laid a restraining hand on his arm. Rather than wounding her, her father's attack had only angered and saddened her.
"I shamed you, Father?" Her lips twisted in an ironic smile. "That is rich. What of the countless times you shamed me? The whole of my life I had to watch the despicable way you treated everyone around you. You ruled by fear, beating innocents and flying into rages for no other reason than that your porridge was cold or a speck of dust was left on your boots. Well, you should be quite happy now. You no longer must endure your servants' transgressions. You drove them all away."
His face mottled with rage, Eversley slammed down his glass and ro
se threateningly to his feet.
But Aurora stood her ground. "I feel sorry for you, Father. I truly do. I thought you had more pride. I never would have expected you to sink to this pathetic level."
"How dare you…" Belying his drunkenness, Eversley cursed and lunged for her, his hand poised to strike.
Nicholas moved like lightning. In an instant, he hauled the duke up by his cravat, spun him around, twisted his arm behind his back, then forced him forward till his face was mashed against the far wall.
Eversley gave a strangled cry of pain.
Nicholas's voice was low and harsh in response. "I've been itching to do this ever since I heard what a bullying brute you are."
"Get your… damned hands… off me!" Eversley exclaimed, gasping for breath.
"What? You don't like getting a taste of your own medicine?"
"Damn you… I will have you horsewhipped! I will have you arrested… for assaulting a peer."
"You are welcome to try. But I'm giving you fair warning. If you ever lay a finger on your daughter, I'll slit your gullet. You harm so much as a hair of hers, and I'll hunt you down like the scum you are. You won't live to see your next sunrise. Do I make myself clear?"
Weakly the duke nodded, but Nicholas still wasn't satisfied.
"Keep out of her life, do you understand me? I don't want to hear that you've spoken even a whisper against her."
"Yes! All right!" He nearly sank to his knees when Nicholas released his savage grip.
Aurora had watched the exchange with her heart pounding, forcing herself not to intervene. When her father's malevolent glance found her, she lifted her chin and returned his gaze, dry eyed. She deplored violence, yet she couldn't be sorry for this clash. The duke had finally met his match – someone who couldn't be intimidated or made to cower in fear from his rages. Nicholas wasn't terrified in the least by his threats.
Nicholas turned then and offered her his arm, and she went willingly. Neither of them spoke as he escorted her from the house and outside to the waiting carriage.
Instead of riding, he tied his horse to the rear and joined her inside, yet Aurora scarcely noticed. As the coach drew away, she stared unseeingly out the window at the fading view of her home.
She was still trembling, but her strongest emotion was a vast feeling of release. She was free of her father, after years of living under his oppressive thumb. She had broken his hateful hold over her. She couldn't help him, she finally acknowledged. No longer was she constrained by filial duty; she needn't feel any responsibility toward him at all. With his violent repudiation of her, he had relinquished any right even to her compassion.
Surprisingly she felt no guilt, only a deep sadness that it had to end this way, with the severing of blood ties.