Page 26 of The Lady Was Lying
“I want you to consider your legacy. To protect your future. Now that you know what is at stake, you must see the prudence of returning home. You need to distance yourself from Danford and Greydon and anyone else who can reveal your paternity and taint your future.”
“They won’t reveal anything.”
“You can’t trust them.”
“I can,” he insisted. They had no reason to reveal the truth. A scandal would affect them too.
“You’ve known them for a day, and you already trust them?”
Other than his mother and his father, he had spent much of his time alone. He hadn’t been lonely exactly, but until this evening he hadn’t known what it was like to have siblings, and even understanding the risks, he wasn’t willing to give them up.
“They’ve never lied to me.” His words were flat, their implication impossible to misconstrue, and he regretted them immediately. Being frustrated and tired didn’t give him an excuse to make this harder for her.
She flinched and then stepped off the stairs. Her face was a mask of pain when she halted in front of him. “You no longer trust me?”
“Of course, I still trust you.” He groaned in frustration. “You are my mother.”
“Then why aren’t you listening to me?”
“Because you don’t get to decide how I handle this,” he almost shouted. “It’s my future. Family is important to me.”
“They are not your family,” she repeated. Her voice was anguished.
It pained him to upset her, but he couldn’t deny his feelings. “They are part of my family now.”
“You’re willing to risk everything for them. My reputation. Your future. I cannot believe you are this naïve.” She spun around and took two steps up the stairs before turning back and pointing at him. “This is Elsbeth’s fault. If that whore had not married another, you wouldn’t have had to come to London at all. You would be safely married at Bramblewood.”
“Mother,” he scolded. “We’ve already discussed this. And I’ve already warned you that you may not speak of Elsbeth in such a manner.”
“She betrayed you. I will speak of her as she deserves.”
Why couldn’t she let his failed betrothal go? “Elsbeth jilted me with my permission.”
“It was her duty to marry you. You waited for her all those years, and she threw your loyalty in your face.” The betrothal had been agreed upon while Elsbeth was still an infant. He’d only been twelve at the time and had accepted it because his father had wanted it. Waiting for Elsbeth to come of age hadn’t been difficult. There was no real affection between them, and she had been so much younger that he’d been content to wait.
Now that he knew the truth, he understood his mother’s seemingly irrational anger at his former betrothed, but understanding didn’t change anything. “By marrying someone else, she gave me the opportunity to choose my wife. You, of all people, should understand the power behind having a choice.”
She deflated, her eyes filling with tears.
“Since your father died, everything has changed. Nothing is as it’s meant to be, and I don’t…I don’t know how to cope. I couldn’t force Elsbeth to marry you. There is no way for me to protect you from the consequences of the choices I made. And I can’t stop you from forging a relationship with your siblings.” Her shoulders quaked, and a wretched sob erupted from her chest. “The only thing I can do is warn you that you’re making a mistake.”
“It’s my mistake to make,” he said, closing the distance between them and pulling her into his chest. The contact only made her sob harder. It was more difficult than he would have expected to be the cause of her tears.
Was it selfish to put himself first?
He might be able to ease her worries if he promised to forget that he had siblings or if he followed her edict and returned to the estate. Unfortunately, he was unwilling to do either, so he simply held her as she cried. His cravat was damp and limp by the time her tears slowed, and his heart was equally battered. He loathed disappointing her, but he didn’t see any way to avoid it.
When her tears dried, he escorted her to her room, then he prepared himself for sleep and slid beneath the covers. Unfortunately, the revelations of his parentage, the strain of arguing with his mother, the joy of meeting two of his siblings, and his confusing encounters with Belinda had given him too much on his mind to relax fully. He tossed and turned, dozing as much as possible, until daylight trickled through the windows.
The dreary morning practically begged him to stay in bed, but he rose anyway, preparing for the day as if it were any other. His mother sailed into the breakfast room a moment after he’d picked up the neatly pressed paper so he could read while he ate.
“We need to talk.” She slid into the seat to his left.
Afraid she wanted to rehash their argument from the night before, he told her no without looking up.
“Yes,” she countered smoothly.
With a sigh, he set the paper down and studied her. She remained pale, and the dark smudges under her eyes suggested she hadn’t slept well, but her mood was markedly different. Calm and collected rather than stressed and flustered.
