Julia London 4 Book Bundle (45 page)

Adrian nodded and found a rough voice. “You will forgive me, but I rather think I could use several pints.”

“I’ve some work to do in the clearing. I’ll leave you to your talk,” the man said, and with a look at Adrian, picked up his tools and started off. Smiling at her husband’s retreating back, Allison motioned him into the cottage. It was tasteful and cozy; a dozen or more handcrafted works of needle art graced the rough-hewn walls. A worn settee, two upholstered chairs, and a small table were the only furniture in the front room. Adrian sat heavily on the chair to which his aunt gestured.

“I told your lovely wife that you certainly knew of my existence, but I can see now that you truly did not,” his aunt remarked as she handed him a pint.

Adrian took a long drink, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and nodded solemnly. “You have me
at a great disadvantage, madam. I was quite unaware of your existence.”

She smiled warmly as she settled across from him. “Please call me Allison. You look so like her, you know. Her eyes, her mouth.”

That unnerved him. “Until I saw you a moment ago, I scarcely remembered what she looked like,” he said raggedly.

Allison leaned forward and placed her hand on his knee. “She would have been so very proud of you, Adrian. She always was, but to see you grown, such a fine figure of a man—I know her heart would have burst with pride.”

His breath felt thick in his lungs, and he downed the ale. She rose to replenish his tankard while Adrian tried to regain a modicum of composure.

When she had reclaimed her seat, he set the tankard aside. “Why have I never been told?” he asked bluntly. “Why are you not known to me—if you are indeed my lady aunt, why are you
here
, in a woodsman’s cottage?”

That earned him a distinct look of disapproval. “William Fletcher loved me when no one else would, my lord. He is a fine man, and he is my husband.”

Ashamed, Adrian swallowed and looked at his hands. “I beg your apology. It’s just that—”

“You are astounded,” she said charitably. “Oh Adrian, it was so long ago, and I haven’t thought of it in many years.” She glanced away, her eyes gleaming with a view of the distant past. “But your darling wife told me of your troubles and implored me to explain all for your sake.” Allison glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “She loves you very much.”

Yes, he was beginning to believe that, and nothing could make him feel worse at the moment. Lilliana had been telling the truth! When he thought of what he had said to her … never mind that now. “Tell me, please,” he insisted.

She sighed. “Evelyn and I were quite close. Living at Longbridge with no other children about, we were the
best of friends,” Nervously clearing her throat, Allison reached for a small, heart-shaped pillow and clutched it apprehensively in one hand. “I was two years older than Evelyn—eighteen when your father came courting. Oh, but he was terribly handsome and so very charming.”

Archie charming? It was unfathomable.

Allison’s cheeks flushed pink, and she picked at the lace trim of the little pillow she held. “I was quite taken with him. I thought him the most dashing young man I had ever known, and as our acquaintance grew I was rather excited when he hinted at something more enduring between us.”

Adrian frowned. “But he married my mother,” he unnecessarily reminded her.

A shadow of misery blanketed her eyes, and Allison quickly dropped her gaze again. “So he did. You must understand, he was really the only young man Evelyn or I had ever known. There were others, but my father did not consider them suitable for an earl’s daughter. That was just the way things were in those days.”

That was just the way things were today—he could understand how Archie might have insinuated himself into their lives, but how had his mother come to marry him? Allison shifted uncomfortably in her chair and clutched the little pillow tighter. “I tell you this so you may understand how we thought, how things came to pass. You see, your father was also the most charming man Evelyn had ever known. She adored him. But Archibald held
me
in great esteem—so great, that he spoke to my father of marriage. We planned to announce our engagement at the spring assembly.” With a sad smile she brushed the lap of her gown. “I rather thought I might expire before then, as it was a full four months away. But Archibald thought it best—it was the custom of young men to announce their betrothals at the spring assembly each year.”

She glanced again at Adrian, but he was dumbfounded, staring mutely at the sheen of tears in her eyes. “Unfortunately, I had no idea how much Evelyn adored
Archibald. Very much, you see, because she … she …”

Adrian swallowed as Allison groped for the right words. He did not want to hear this, he was quite certain he did not. Yet he could not find his voice to tell her to stop, and gripped the arms of the chair to steady himself.

Allison took a deep breath; her clutch on the little pillow was very close to squeezing the stuffing out of it. “She truly adored him once, I think.” Color flooded her face; her lower lip began to tremble, and Allison bit hard on it for a moment to keep tears from falling. “And she must have felt as if she was losing him to me, because she … seduced him.”

Adrian’s mouth fell open in shock. This woman was lying! She
had
to be lying, because his mother had despised his father, and she
never
would have done something so lewd, he was quite certain.

“And … and he got her with child,” she added in a whisper.

He bolted from his chair and stalked unsteadily toward the hearth, unwilling to believe such atrocious lies. “Forgive me, madam, but I cannot begin to imagine why you would wish to defame my mother in such a contemptible way—”

“You’d best sit down and hear it all before you pass judgment,” she said calmly. Stunned, he glanced over his shoulder. She returned his gaze with one of sadness and pity. How much she looked like his mother! She smiled weakly and motioned toward the chair. “There is so much more that you should know.”

Before he even understood what was happening, he had resumed his seat. Allison drew another, tortured breath and continued. “You cannot imagine the scandal that might have erupted. But my father and Lord Kealing, your grandfather, were eager to hide the ugly truth. Evelyn and Archibald were quickly married, and I was sent to London. But naturally everyone surmised what must have happened, and the fact that you were
born seven months after their marriage proved the suspicions.”

He
was the product of that seduction? His conception had occurred in some haystack? Adrian was suddenly having trouble breathing, because even more startling—if what she said was true—was that his birth was legitimate. Conceived out of wedlock, perhaps, but he was Archie’s natural son. “Then … then his disdain …” he mumbled, trying to make sense of it all.

“Oh, Adrian! He believed he was forced into marrying her, and he could never quite forgive her for it,” she said sadly.

Furious, Adrian jerked his head up. “His disdain for me!” he all but shouted. “I am his
son!
”

Allison blinked with surprise. “Of course you are his son. How could you think differently?”

“What in the bloody hell was I
supposed
to think?” he roared. “My father despised me from the moment I was born!”

“Oh no,” she said softly. “Oh
no
, Adrian! You are his son!” she insisted.

“Then tell me
why.
”

Her gaze slipped away from his. “I can’t explain why, precisely. But he never forgave Evelyn, and he never stopped caring for me. I suppose all of it, wrapped up together—”

“That’s not good enough,” he said angrily. “He got another son on her, a son he loves dearly—”

“No,” she quietly interjected.

No
? Speechless, Adrian gaped at her as myriad doubts about everything that he had ever known rifled through his brain. “Wh-what do you mean by that?” he stammered.

“Please, allow me to say it all, because I fear I shall never be able to speak of it again. I was sent to London, but I complained to my father. I thought it horribly unfair that I was the one to be punished for Evelyn’s … indiscretion. So Father sent me to Venice as the companion of two young girls, where I was quite miserable.
A few years passed, and I finally came home of my own volition, sick to death of being hidden away. My father was furious—he was frightened to death of scandal and did not want me anywhere near this parish. But I still loved Archibald. And I was terribly angry with Evelyn. I felt betrayed … robbed of a happiness that should have been mine. I defied my father and took a small house near Kealing Park and changed my name.

“It wasn’t long before Archibald learned of my presence and came to me. It was obvious that the esteem we held for each other was still quite strong. Oh God, how ashamed I am to tell you these things!” she suddenly cried. Reluctantly, she looked him squarely in the eye. “It wasn’t long thereafter that I discovered I was carrying your father’s child.”

Adrian was incapable of speaking. He was incapable of
breathing.
He had another sibling; another child of Archie’s lived somewhere.

“Archibald was enthralled, but I was terribly frightened. An illicit affair was one thing—I
wanted
to hurt my sister as much as I wanted to love the man who should have been my husband! But a
child
 … a child was such an enormous responsibility—and to be born out of wedlock! But Archibald was ecstatically happy—he called the baby his love child and doted on him from the moment he could hold him in his arms.”

Adrian gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his hands were hurting. “Where is he now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Allison closed her eyes. “He is Benedict,” she whispered.

The room began to spin; Adrian lurched forward and buried his face in his hands. An eddy of deep-seated pain churned ruthlessly in him, and he unconsciously released a moan. He heard Allison’s choked cry, felt her hand on his head.

“Oh my dear, I would not hurt you for all the world, you must believe me! But it is high time you knew these things, and if what your wife tells me is true—”

“What more?”
he blurted angrily, lifting his head. “What more is there?”

She withdrew her hand. “Archibald wanted his son to have the best of everything, to be raised in the bosom of his family home. I fought him as best I could, but I was powerless against him. He stole my son from me. That is when he began to treat Evelyn with such terrible hatred. It happened that I knew one of the maids at the Park—my resemblance to Evelyn was apparently unnoticed—and she spoke freely of the goings-on there. She told me everything—the horrible things he said to her, the way he treated you. When I tried to speak with Archibald about it, he became very angry. It was his belief that she deserved all that he could give her for having ruined his life. I never knew he could be so cruel! I began to despise him for it. The more I understood how shallow and cruel he was, the stronger his tendency toward abuse turned on me.”

Allison labored to rise from her chair and walked to the small window in the room. “After a time, he stopped coming. I wrote him, begging him to bring Benedict to me, but he would not let me see my son. I suppose Evelyn must have found the letters, because it was she who arranged to meet Father in Cambridge, and begged him to bring me along. I remember every moment of that day. It was the first time I had seen my son in two years, and it was the first time I knew that Evelyn loved him as her own.

“After that, just a few years passed before Evelyn died. I received a letter from her shortly before she died, in which she explained everything. My sister died of a broken heart for having betrayed me—something Archibald would not let her forget a single moment of her young life. When she died, Benedict was lost to me forever too. I was terribly despondent. Father settled a small stipend on me with the understanding that I would remain here, under an assumed identity. I had no one … I don’t know how I survived the years that passed before I found William. He knows everything, of
course, and loves me just the same. And I swear to you, I never would have told another living soul if Lady Albright had not convinced me it was necessary for your happiness and, ultimately, the child she carries.”

Those words kicked him squarely in the gut. Astounded, Adrian felt something snap inside, and his heart surged to his throat, choking him.
The child she carries
 … In shock, he stared at Allison’s back. A child.
A child
? Never in his wildest imagination could he have conjured up something so fantastic. A sharp pain jabbed at the back of his eyes, and he squeezed them shut as he tried to fathom it all. The startling revelation of his birth, of Benedict’s birth.
Of the child she carries!
And then the inevitable image in his mind’s eye he could not suppress, the image of the ogre who had done this to all of them.

Archie.

He declined the offer of tea, anxious to get away from the little cottage that had turned him inside out. He thanked her for her honesty, promised to call again soon, and strode out the door.

He rode dangerously, taking the crow’s path to Kealing Park. He pushed Thunder as his mind unraveled all that he had ever been, revealing the brittle foundation, brick by crumbling brick. The well of hate that sprang in him now shook him to the core. Archie had stolen everything from him—his mother, his heritage, his sense of who he was. And he had given it all to Benedict, his bastard son. His bloody
love child.
And how frighteningly close he and Benedict had come to repeating his mother’s doomed history made Adrian queasy. He couldn’t think of that, not yet. He first had to attend to some unfinished business.

The windows were ablaze with light at Kealing Park, and as Adrian stood in the drive he was somewhat amazed that the desire to have this home no longer burned in him. No, at this moment he rather preferred
Longbridge, where at least there was a measure of peace. But not here. This house had never known a peaceful day in its life.