The Devil is The Duke

Emeera had an idea and the more she thought of it, the more it made sense to her.

“What are you thinking of?” The duke asked.

“How do you know I’m thinking of something?”

“You are twirling your hair the way you do when you are thinking of something.” Emeera was surprised but pleased that he had noticed her mannerisms.

“I am your estate manager,” she said.

“I know that,” he replied.

“So I need an office,” she said. “I’d like to have one in the manor.”

“Alright. We can find something for you,” he said with a shrug. “Mrs. Fletcher can-”

“I don’t need Mrs. Fletcher. I want to an office from you, not an old room Mrs. Fletcher decides to spare.”

“Alright then. We’ll turn the old manager’s room into an office for you. We don’t need it again anyway since you are in the mistress suite.” He sat next to her. She shifted and winced in pain. ” What’s that?” He asked, concern creased his forehead.

“My feet hurt but it’s nothing. I will be fine,” she said. He lifted her legs and deftly placed them on his thighs. Slowly, he started to work her feet, massaging her toes and ankles. Emeera was surprised at the gesture but she enjoyed it immensely. After some minutes, she sighed and spoke. “You’ve never told me about why you consider women with such disdain. You said all women lie and that worries me deeply,” she said. His grip tightened so she felt the tension he felt because of that question. “Does this have something to do with your vow that you’ll never remarry?”

She watched his face go dark with the help of the candle light.

“I am about to tell you something I have never told anyone. I don’t know why, but I feel I can trust you with this.” Emeera waited with bated breath. She dared not said a word that could destroy the moment. He coughed, then stared at her with reddened eyes which looked more sinister in the dark.

“I grew up in the manor as a boy. We had good times. My father, the late Duke, had the King’s ear so the place was busier than what we have today. The managers then were only men. Nobody would even think of a female manager.” He smiled grimly. “My father was not the best at being a family man. He took after his own father, you see? They had worked hard to bring the Savoy name to what it is now. They worked and fought and sought favours. As a little boy, it was not unusual to see my father travel for business on behalf of the throne or even hunting with the King. We all understood the sacrifices or so I thought.” He paused at this, carefully thinking his next words. “One day, my family left for Davinshire. They were going to host the royal family there. My mother suddenly fell ill the night to the trip so she was allowed to rest on her own for few days and then join the family in Davinshire after her recovery. I opted to remain in the manor too. I think I was about eighteen then. Few people stayed home. Long story short, I saw her in bed with the house manager who had remained to tie up some loose ends before going to the country.”Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“Oh my God. I am so sorry. I had no idea that happened,” Emeera said.

“It is a terrible sight for a teenage son to see. My entire body froze like I was in a coma. I thought my life would end. I prayed my life would end.”

Tears gathered in his eyes and he looked away. Emeera had never seen the duke in that way. “Imagine having to wonder if the duke was truly my father. If I was a bastard. It happened in the mistress suite you currently occupy. When they saw me, he got up, terrified I would tell my fa… I mean, the duke. When he left her, she turned to me with crocodile tears and told me the duke was diabetic and could not perform. She said he told her to get her pleasures somewhere else. I was not as insulted by the affair as I was by the story that my father was impotent. But she convinced me. She cried and cried and convinced me my father’s diabetes was debilitating. My father’s sweet tooth was well-known. At long last, being just a boy, I believed her. But begged her not to continue. She promised it would not happen again. But it happened again. Over and over and over. I caught her in the gardens, by the pond at night and in the estate manager’s room. She did not stop with the manager. She began to sleep with his friends and other men, embarrassing him everywhere. I still believed the diabetes story and pitied papa.”

He sighed, like a broken man. “My house became my prison so I ran off to university and did not return home even for holidays. I did not read her letters or ask after her though papa. One day, I heard papa was dying so I went back to be at his side. At the gate, I saw our family doctor leaving and asked him if the diabetes was the cause of Papa’s illness. He was surprised. He said papa had never been diagnosed with diabetes. I told him he must be wrong for Papa certainly had diabetes. The doctor said no, that papa was ill quite all right but he had never suffered diabetes and he would knew, having been his doctor all his adult life.” Emeera slowly exhaled.

The duke continued. “I argued and argued with the doctor like a lunatic. He was so sure my father was fine and even asked me who told me papa had diabetes. I cannot remember how I managed that journey from the gate to my bedroom. When I later saw papa, I asked him if he had diabetes. He said no. He had never had diabetes. His illness was an acute case of typhoid. I called in another doctor under the guise of treatment for typhoid but asked him to test papa for diabetes. He did the tests and found out papa had no diabetes. Every disgraceful thing my mother told me about her own husband was a lie.”