Page 25 of To Claim the Long-Lost Lover
Lechton insisted he’d done nothing wrong. “You are my son. You are required to obey me. I told you yesterday that I was choosing a bride for you.”
“And I told you,” Nate snapped, “that I would not accept any bride you chose. That I could not, because I am already committed.”
“No betrothal has been announced,” Tremaway complained. “Your match with my daughter has been announced, and your honour demands that you marry her.”
“No, Lord Tremaway,” Nate said. He would repeat his refusal as often as he needed to do so. He wished he could just tell the man that he was married, but he wouldn’t take her choices away from Sarah.
“You have no honour, then,” the viscount sneered.
“I have made no agreement with you or your daughter, my lord,” Nate pointed out. “My father has given his word, not mine. He does not have the power to give mine. I knew nothing of my father’s intentions or yours until you made the announcement. Without my signature, any agreement is unenforceable. You have every right to be angry, but with my father, not with me.”
The conversation kept going round and round in circles, Nate alert to cut his father off whenever he was about to mention Sarah’s name or the youthful marriage. In the end, Lady Tremaway begged to be allowed to take her daughter home, and the Tremaways retired, still angry.
Lechton went on the attack as soon as they closed the door behind them. “You are a fool, Bentham, allying yourself to the Winshires. Do you know what I heard today? That brat your Sarah Winderfield took out of the workhouse is actually the son of her own sister and brother! Yes, they say Charlotte Winderfield, the one they call a saint, actually seduced her own brother and he killed himself because of it!”
Nate ignored most of that vile nonsense, but he turned to Libby and asked, “Sarah took a boy from the workhouse?”
“Elias, they call him,” Libby confirmed, “and it is true that some believe him to be a Winderfield born on the wrong side of the blanket.”
Nate felt as if everything in him had come to a stop: his breath, his thoughts, even his heart. He choked out his next question. “How old is Elias?”
* * *
The Winshire mansion was mostly in darkness. Nate thought of climbing the fence to check for a back door or an accessible window, but undoubtedly the grounds were patrolled. Nate was willing to back himself in a fair fight, but those guards of Winshire’s were trained warriors. His courtship wasn’t going to be helped if he annoyed the duke by injuring one of his men, nor did he fancy a beating if he encountered two or more.
Perhaps he should wait until morning. No. He had to speak with Sarah tonight. He knocked on the front door, and was surprised when it was opened by Lord Andrew. The young lord opened the door and waved him in, saying over his shoulder, “You were right, Kaka. Bentham is here. Come in, Bentham. My father said you wouldn’t be able to wait until morning.”
The duke lounged against a door frame, propped on one shoulder, his arms folded. “My niece has gone up to her suite, Bentham. I take it you wish to speak with her?” He turned to his son. “Drew, would you see if Sarah wishes to come down and talk to Lord Bentham?”
He stepped back and gestured into the room behind him. “If you could indulge me in a couple of answers to questions, Bentham, while we wait for my niece.” It was phrased as a question but the tone made it a command.
Nate obeyed, stepping into a comfortably appointed study. “I will answer what I can, Your Grace.”
“I am in Lady Sarah’s confidence, young man,” the duke commented. “Or should I say, Lady Bentham’s?”
“That needs to be her choice,” Nate said, resisting the primitive surge of possessiveness and pride that wanted to accept the title that proclaimed her his own.
“You will walk away if she chooses not to acknowledge the marriage?”
Nate hesitated. “That was my intention, though I hoped to persuade her to at least allow me to court her again. But I just found out about... Your Grace, the boy? Is he my son?”
“Ah yes. Elias. You will need to talk to Sarah about Elias.” He leaned against the desk, steepling his hands and tapping his forefingers against his lips. After a moment, he asked another question. “Can you prove that the marriage took place? Sarah says that is your plan.”
“I believe I can, sir. Your brother or my father may have destroyed the marriage register at Lesser Lechford, but I doubt they knew that the marriage was also recorded at Sutton-Under-Swinwood, where the banns were also called. I believe that made the marriage legal, Your Grace, since my lady was born at and recorded as a resident of Swinwood Hall, and therefore a parishioner at Sutton-Under-Swinwood.”
The duke nodded thoughtfully. “I see. And Sutton-Under-Swinwood was even then a refuge for women in hiding, and therefore it was unlikely anyone would speak of the banns to those who might inform my brother or my father.”
“Yes, sir. Also, my cousin, if I can find him, may still have my copy of our marriage lines. I do not know, though, whether Lord Sutton or his father obtained an annulment.”
The duke inclined his head. “I have seen no evidence of that in the duchy’s files. I will ask our solicitors to check their records. I suspect, however, that they would not have wanted the existence of a marriage to be made public. Tell me, if you had come back to find Sarah married again, what would you have done?”
“Nothing, Your Grace. What could I have done without hurting my wife?” That was, in fact, the situation he expected, and the reason he had not wanted to come to London even after he was forced back to England.
“From what I know of my brother and father, they would have gambled on exactly that reaction from you, and left well enough alone. I will check with the solicitors, but I consider it likely there was no annulment.”
Nate turned as Sarah spoke from the doorway. “So, we are probably still married,” she said, “and certainly were wed all those years ago.” She was still in her ball finery, except she had removed her gloves. She came to him with her hands out, and he took them in his.
“I lost faith in you, Nate. I am so sorry.”
