Truly Yours (26 page)

“I shall not marry her.”

“After spending days—and nights—unchaperoned together? Of course you will. Nanny taught you manners. Your father taught you honor.”

“She was ill, and there was no alternative. If
you
had been here to rescue her yourself, there would be no problem.”

“I was too ill to travel, to my regret.”

Rex could see the truth of that, and not just in her drawn features and pallid complexion. He changed the topic. “Shouldn’t Amanda, Miss Carville, be here for this discussion? She knows my views and accepts them.”

“She had a tray in her room. Now she is too busy getting ready to go out.”

“Go out . . . where?”

“Why, on social calls, a stroll through the park at the fashionable hour, shopping perhaps. She has to be seen, and be seen unconcerned, to quell the gossip.”

“She is accused of murder, not of tying her garters in public! You cannot counter such charges with a social sugarcoating.”

“That’s how much you know of polite society.” The countess poured herself another cup of tea. “But you might be right. An engagement announcement would be better.”

Rex scowled. “There will be no announcement, no betrothal, no match.”

“You used to be such a charming little boy.”

And she used to be a loving mother, until she left. Rex helped himself to more wine.

The countess added sugar and stirred her tea. “Do you think you can refute the charges?”

“I am going to try my damnedest.”

“But you might fail?”

“I might.”

“Then I shall make plans to take Amanda abroad. I know the war has affected travel, but ships leave daily. Surely one goes somewhere livable.”

“You would help her escape?”

“I would save her life if you cannot.”

“I suppose I should not be surprised. When things are not to your liking, you always run off, do you not?”

She set her cup aside and reached for a handkerchief as her eyes filled with tears. Rex looked away, lest he be swayed by her distress. Nanny had wiped
his
eyes, not this woman sitting across from him.

Lady Royce gathered her composure, tucking the delicate handkerchief away and feeding Verity another biscuit. “I thought you would understand by now.”

“I understand that I gave my parole for Amanda’s appearance. I pledged my honor, if honor means anything to you.”

“Stop this nastiness. You were a child when I left. You are acting like a child now and I will not tolerate it.”

He stood.

“Where are you going?”

“We have nothing to say.”

“I have a great deal to say. Are you mature enough to listen?”

He stepped toward the door.

“You owe me a hearing, dash you!”

Rex whistled for his dog, who came, looking back regretfully at the biscuits. “I brought your goddaughter to you.”

“I gave you life.”

Rex could only return to the center of the room. He did not sit, but stood, Verity at his feet. He stared up at the happy little boy in the portrait over the mantel.

Lady Royce stared at him, as if trying to see that child she once held. Then she took a deep breath and began. “Your father and I married for love, you know. His parents had another young lady in mind for him, but he chose me. I was in alt, over the moon in love with him. We married and then . . . and then, I found him not to be the person I thought he was. He was . . . different.”

“He could see the truth, or hear it, in his case.”

“Yes. That was disconcerting enough, as you might imagine. What kind of man was this, touched by the gods, or touched in the head?”

“I have wondered myself.”

She nodded and went on. “I thought he should have told me before we wed, to be fair. But there were more secrets he left for me to discover on my own. Royce had a mistress before we married.” She held up a hand to ward off his interruption. “I know many men do. And yes, he swore he ended the affair when he knew I was the woman he wished to share his life with. Yet he kept seeing her. People were eager to share that tittle-tattle with me.”

Rex drew in a quick breath. That did not sound like the man he thought his father to be, either.

“Oh, he said they were merely friends, and he had ‘obligations’ to her. I tried to be understanding, but he was my husband, soon to be the father of my child! I was young and yes, I was jealous. Horribly, crushingly, corrosively jealous. When I demanded he cease all connection with the woman, he refused. I retaliated.”

“By having an affair?”

“By throwing myself into the social whirl of London, flirting with every man I met. I was quite the belle, and your father was furious. Worse, he kept asking who I danced with, why did I go off alone, what buck paid morning calls while Royce was at court, and how long did he stay? I knew I could not lie, of course. And why should I? I had nothing to be ashamed of. Your father insisted I retire in the country, with the excuse of your imminent birth. A Royce should be born in his ancestral home.”

“They all have been, as far as I know.”

She sipped at her tea, then made a face at the lukewarm beverage. “I thought matters would be better once you were born, with his dark hair and blue eyes, thank goodness. He adored you. Who would not, such a beautiful, cheerful baby? We were happy once more, a real family. Royce’s work with the justice system took up much of his time, even in the country, and soon he began to question me about the neighbors, their houseguests, the curate who came to tea. He knew the truth, of all people, yet he was never satisfied. I felt I was on trial, for some future crime I might commit. I . . . feared he was insane, and I began to fear him. I could not bear to see our love turn into a struggle, so I went to London, where I had friends.”

“Without me.”

“You think I should have taken his heir? His very joy? He would never have hurt you, and I had no legal grounds. And . . . and I did not know how to deal with your questions, your intelligence.”

“My knowing the truth from a lie?”

She bit her lip, as if to hold back more tears. “You were different from other children, as he was different from other men. I could not even tell you about the fairies dancing in the meadow, or Father Christmas, not without your looking at me sadly, as if I had broken your trust. Still, I thought he would follow me. He said he loved me, and I believed him, despite the other woman, despite my not having your gift of truth-seeing. I would have welcomed him, for I never stopped loving him or believing we could be happy, if he only learned to trust me. He came to town to press Parliament for legal reform; he did not come for me. We lived in the same house, but we seldom spoke.”

“Why did he not bring me with him?”

“I begged him to, but he would not send for you. I think he did not want you in Town to hear gossip of his other connection. Or see that we lived as near strangers. You went away to school soon anyway.”

Rex leaned over to rub Verity’s ears, not looking at the countess. “Then he was disgraced and you did not stand by him.”

She held out a biscuit for the dog, but Verity stayed at Rex’s side for once. The countess lowered her hand. “He would not let me. Your father is a stubborn, stubborn man, and I fear you have inherited that trait from him, too. He would not stay on in London and refute the charges, for his defense was nothing anyone could accept. You must understand that, for you said much the same about Amanda’s defense. Nor did he want me to share his retreat to the country. He said it would kill him to see me brought so low, that I’d be happier in the city among my friends. He meant my lovers. He’d stopped asking when I made up Lord Wealthy Widower and Sir Handsome Rake. The truth as I saw it, in my heart? He simply did not want me anymore.”

“And you did not want me enough to fight him.”

“Fight a hurricane? Fight a blizzard? I did swallow my pride and go to Royce Hall. He asked me if I were breeding, accusing me of coming home to plant another man’s by-blow in his nest.”

Rex swallowed, hard. “What did you tell him?

“I told him to go to hell. I went back to London and never approached him again. I thought that would be easier for you, instead of constant good-byes. I always spoke to my friends of his integrity, his devotion to the law, for what that was worth. I told everyone that there was no more honest man in all of creation. I believed it then, and believe it now, in spite of his behavior toward me, which I told no one. I convinced some people. But not Sir Nigel.”

Rex’s bad leg was growing weary from standing, but he did not wish to show his weakness by sitting down again. “Ah, Sir Nigel. Did you know he is the one pressing for a speedy trial, and a speedier hanging?”

“Yes, and you can blame me for that, too.”

“You?”

“He wished to marry me, you know. No, how could you? He was a promising lawyer then, of good family, and I considered his suit until I met your father. I think that was why he was so vengeful about that minor court case, where your father could not convict an innocent man despite the evidence. Sir Nigel wanted to get even. And then, when I took up residence here, alone, he approached me again.”

“You were still married.”

The countess raised her chin. “I am married to this very day, and until I die. The barrister had a far less honorable proposal this time. I rejected him again, with a great deal less politeness than before. I tossed my wineglass in his face and barred him from the house. I believe that is why he was delighted to accuse Amanda, knowing of my affection for her.”

Rex thought about that, wondering if Sir Nigel hated the Royce family enough to kill Sir Frederick for revenge. No, he could not know that Amanda would come home to find that gun. “There is more to it than retaliation. I will find out what.”

“I have every confidence that you will.”

“But if I fail, you will run off with Amanda?”

“I will save her life, yes. I lost you once, I will not lose her. I owe her poor mother that much.”

“You leave me no choice but to stay here to watch you, and set guards around the house to keep you here.” He did not acknowledge the lift to his heart at the idea of spending more time with Amanda.

The countess sighed. “I suppose you’ll follow us around Town, too.”

“Around Town?” he echoed.

“I told you I intended to take her about with me. How else to show people that I believe her innocent, to get women talking to their husbands that Lady Royce, that paragon of virtue and wisdom, would not harbor a criminal, a killer? She is not guilty and I will not see her shut away!”

“You’d take her to parties and balls?” Rex could not believe her . . . what? Courage? Foolhardiness? Frivolity in the face of doom?

“I shall take her to every entertainment I can find. I suppose she ought not dance, with Sir Frederick so recently laid in his grave, but no one could expect her to mourn that mawworm.”

“But she might be in danger!” Rex insisted, feeling dread wash over him at the notion of Amanda out on the Town, in crowds, among strangers. “Whoever did the killing cannot be at ease until someone else is punished for the crime. If she is dead, the case might be considered closed.”

“All the more reason for you to attend us. I depend on you to keep her safe.”

“But my presence will lead people to think . . . that is, they will suppose . . .” He could not continue.

“That you are about to restore her good name? I daresay they will. Who would expect Captain Lord Rexford to turn craven?”

From anyone else, Rex would take umbrage. Now he wanted to take to his heels. He suspected the countess had intended to trap him into the parson’s mousetrap from the first. “You cannot make such demands of me.”

“I realize I cannot influence you, no more than I could change your father’s mind. No, you could have come to me all these years to hear my side of the story. You could have responded to my letters beyond a polite thank-you. You could have said farewell when you went to war, over my objections and my tears, you must know. So no, I do not expect any show of filial devotion or obedience. I will put my trust into your own sense of honor, which is far stronger than our ties now. That will suffice. In exchange, do not expect a mother’s blind love in return, for I am out of practice. I waited for decades, sending gifts, letters, money, without a token of affection in return. Know this, Jordan, if you harm Amanda, if you leave her with child, if you break that poor girl’s heart, I will tell the world that you are a sorcerer, a warlock, an aberration of evil, you and your father both.”

She lied. She would never tell.

“No, I will cut out your heart, like you have mine.”

“I will not harm her. And she will not get pregnant. The last thing I wish is another boy so horrific even his own mother could not love him.”

“Not love you?” She spoke so loud that Verity barked. “Is that what you think? That I did not love my beautiful, brilliant, unique child? I wanted to shout from the rooftops that he was a marvel, he was a gift from God. Your father convinced me I could not, that you would be in danger if the world knew. But know this, my son. I was never, ever unfaithful to your father. And I missed you every day of my life.”

She spoke the truth.

A
manda did not know what to say to the countess when the older woman came into her room, followed by a maid bearing a tray with a pot of chocolate and two cups. Fortunately, Amanda did not need to say anything, for her godmother did all the talking as soon as the maid left. There would be no tears, no recriminations, no rebukes, Lady Royce insisted.

And no regrets, Amanda said to herself. Last night was the most beautiful experience of her life. She would not have forgone it for the world. If she were going to repine, it would be because nothing like that would happen again—not with Lady Royce at home, and not with Rex so principled, and so prejudiced against marriage. She had had her moment of joy, however, so could not complain.