Page 72 of Enslaved to the Seduction of a Lady
Chapter Twenty-Six
Luke felt unstrung as he stumbled away from Mary White’s house. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t see anything, didn’t look where he was going. All he could think of was everything she had told him.
He had already considered the idea that his mother would have passed, and although it still came as a shock to him, it quickly dissipated. He had eagerly listened to the details of her life, even if they were tragic.
What had affected him mostly, though, was the news that Tina Reynolds, the woman who had infiltrated the Salsbury household, had actually been his sister. He had known her name, of course, but when he first heard about his mother, he hadn’t connected the two.
But now—
He could hardly breathe with the revelation, and his mind whirred.
How am I going to tell Alison?
“Excuse me. You’d do well to look where you are going!”
Luke looked up, surprised to hear a noble, well-spoken voice in such a place, and as he did, he gasped again. It really was a day of surprises.
“Lord Denninson! I’m sorry, I—”
He didn’t know what to say. To see Thomas Denninson, heir to the Duke of Carrington, so out of place was baffling—almost as baffling as everything that he had been told that day. Lord Denninson’s tailcoat had been immaculately pressed, his cream-colored trousers free of even the slightest mark. His top hat, too, stood tall and proud upon his head, making him quite the odd one out in a street of cotton caps and shoddy hats.
“I know you,” Lord Denninson said, eyeing Luke carefully, curious rather than reprimanding. “I know your face.”
“That you do, My Lord,” Luke said tipping his hat. “We’ve met on numerous occasions. I’m the groom up at the Salsbury estate.”
“That’s right!” Lord Denninson laughed, dashing his hand in the air. “I’d have got it eventually, I’m sure!”
“Yes,” Luke said, smiling a little. It was rare for such a nobleman to remember his face, and even more so when he was not in the stables. Luke stood taller, proud of such recognition. “Well remembered, My Lord.”
They stood in awkward silence for a moment, neither quite knowing what to do. They were both out of their usual habits, on equal ground, even, and so neither were entirely sensical.
“Are you lost, My Lord?” Luke asked after a moment. “This doesn’t seem the sort of place a gentleman such as yourself would usually frequent.”
“Not lost,” Lord Denninson, sighing deeply. “I’ve had some rather surprising news, I’m afraid.”
“Oh yes?” Luke asked, curious but not wanting to pry.
“It turns out I am not the Duke of Carrington’s son after all,” he said, not looking at Luke. He spoke as though no one was listening, and his brow furrowed. “It appears I was adopted.”
“I see,” Luke said, feeling his stomach churning.
Could it be? No. It’s too much of a coincidence.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lord Denninson said, waving the hand that held his cane. “I am sure you have plenty to be getting on with, and I don’t suppose it’s particularly appropriate for me to talk about this to you. I just… I don’t really know where to start.”
“No, you’re all right,” Luke reassured him. “I have all the time in the world. Don’t know where to start with what? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”
“With where to look for my birth mother. By all accounts, she lived somewhere on this road. And her name was—”
“Lola.”
Lord Denninson stared at him, aghast and open-mouthed. He stood stock still and Luke could hear the rush of breath he took. Luke responded rather coyly, with a shrug and a raise of his eyebrows.
“Lola Reynolds,” Luke said.
“Yes,” Lord Denninson said, after recovering his sense. “That’s right. How did you know?”
“Because she’s my mother, too.”
