Page 92 of Anything But a Duke
Nothing. Her hair was brown, her eyes a pale blue. He had few memories of his sister, but he knew that her eyes were the same green as his and her hair had been a brighter red.
“You’re not my sister.” The words came out flat, emotionless, as empty as he felt.
The lady’s eyes widened in shock. “I beg your pardon?”
Aidan had remained standing after she took a seat, but now he sank into his desk chair. The fatigue he felt went bone deep. Soul deep. The foolish hope he’d let blossom inside him withered. It felt like a weight now, as heavy as the guilt he’d carried for decades.
“Lady Josephine,” he said with as much civility and patience as he could muster. “Please tell me why you’ve come here today.”
The woman started to speak and then pressed her lips together. She tipped her head and studied him, then proceeded to pull off her gloves and fuss with arranging them neatly on her lap.
“I’m sorry to come into your life this way.” There was a tremulous quiver in her voice that didn’t match her ramrod posture and steady gaze. “I know much that you do not, so allow me to clarify, Mr. Iverson.”
When she fell silent again, Aidan sat forward and urged her, “Go on.”
“I am your half-sister. Your mother was not my mother, though I knew her well.” A little smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “I grew up with Mary in our household.” She looked up and cast him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry that you weren’t able to know her.
“We do share the same father, Mr. Iverson.” She assessed him, as if looking for a resemblance. “That makes you my brother, sir,” she added almost wistfully.
Realization dawned in fragments. “You’re Wyndham’s daughter.”
“I am.”
The earl was his father. And he had a sister. Perhaps other half-siblings. Aidan gripped the arms of his chair, squeezing until his hands ached. All these years of searching, and now the truth was coming too fast. Grief welled up, anger, but he needed to know the details. “My mother was a servant in your household?” Good God, the irony of his search for a noble bride when all along he had blue blood in his veins.
“For many years. She was kind and tenderhearted. I’m afraid our father could never claim the same traits. He can be a cruel man.”
Aidan didn’t doubt that, but he couldn’t believe what she said about his mother. “A tenderhearted woman who deposited her children in a workhouse?” Aidan struggled to reconcile that description with the hell he and his sister had endured. “My sister...” The next word wedged in this throat. The grief of losing Sarah had always been there, tangled up in shame and regret. After Callihan’s story, he’d allowed himself a fanciful hope. Now there was no hope left to cling to. Sarah was gone. “She died in that workhouse, Lady Josephine.”
The elegant woman’s ladylike demeanor faltered and Aidan was shocked to see tears well in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Iverson.”
Aidan wouldn’t let himself crumble. Not yet. He still needed answers.
“What did my mother tell you about us?”
“Nothing at all. She shared few details about her history, but I do know there was always a melancholy air about her. I found a letter from Mary in my father’s papers that indicated she had children—his children—and had once resided in Lambeth. That prompted me to visit Mr. Callihan’s boarding house to learn more.”
“Is Wyndham aware of who I am?” Aidan wasn’t sure he wished to meet his father. Ever. He now knew who the man was. That was answer enough.
“He is, Mr. Iverson. He’s been on his sickbed for many months. After learning a bit of the story from Mr. Callihan, Father relented and told me the rest.”
“And you wished to meet your bastard brother?”
“You’re the only sibling I have.” She lowered her chin as if abashed, and then lifted it high again. “Father is dying, and I thought that I, at least, should come to make amends. He won’t ever acknowledge you as his son, but he is capable of guilt, and I suspect he’d want to bequeath you something to ease his conscience.”
Aidan chuckled. “I don’t need his money.”
“No, of course not.” She glanced at the ledgers lining a shelf behind him. “And I know that no sum can atone for his actions, but I could arrange for the funds to be donated to one of your charitable endeavors.”
When Aidan snapped his gaze to hers, she smiled.
“As soon as I learned your name, I found out as much as I could. You’re a benevolent man and the success you’ve achieved is most impressive.” She took in more of his office, noted the violin on the carpet, and then squared her gaze on his again. “You owe him nothing, but I could arrange a meeting with our father if you wish.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“No. I understand.” She lowered her veil over her face, as if preparing to depart. “I’ll take my leave of you for now. If questions arise, I’ve left a calling card with your clerk.” She stood and Aidan did the same. But rather than starting for the door, she hesitated. “You may reach me in the future at any time. I would welcome a visit, even if you don’t wish to see Father.”
“Thank you.” Aidan wanted to say more. He knew he should say more. But the two words were all he could manage.
