"You've already moved your mistress into my life. Was there really any point continuing that anniversary farce?"
He frowned slightly, his tone almost bored.
"We've weathered thirty years of storms together. I thought you'd understand."
"We fought our way here through mockery and doubt. And now I'm nearly sixty with no heir of my own."
"Stacy is thirty-two years younger than me. Sweet. Considerate. She knows her position is... delicate. She's never once complained, never demanded anything. All she wants is to give us a worthy child—to repay our kindness." He spread his hands, the picture of reasonableness. "What has she done wrong?"
I kept my voice level. Barely.
"So that entitles you to hand her my company?"
Perhaps Duke saw the sorrow pooling in my eyes. He sighed, his tone softening.
"Gertrude, I know I've wronged you. But I'm doing this for the child."
"Stacy's position is already... delicate. And she's pregnant. Without shares to her name, how is she supposed to hold her head up in high society? Our child would be whispered about too."