Page 66 of The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady
“What?” she gasped. “How can that be?”
“My mother was assaulted in her youth by two rogues, while she was out walking here upon her visit to your father and mother. I came from that assault, and my father chose to love me as his own and did not punish my mother for events she had no control over. She had suffered enough,” he explained. “Owen knew of it, and so did Father, but no one else was privy to that information. I am telling you because… I want you to know that you and I have no relationship to one another. And I hope you will keep the secret, for her sake, as well as mine.”
Alicia’s eyes widened in horror. “She was dishonored?”
“In the worst possible way.” Sadness gripped Jacob’s chest. “It is why my father sent me away from home. He may have treated me as his own, and never said otherwise while he lived, but seeing me reminded him of what my mother had endured. By giving me the opportunity of a distant education, he could have the best of both worlds. He could love me and not have to think of how I had come into this world, in terror and pain and brutality.”
“I’m so sorry, Your Grace.” She suddenly leant forward and threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. She whispered into his shoulder; her voice thick with emotion. “I did not know.”
“How could you have done?” He did not know what to do at first. Collecting his nerve, he put his arms around her, too, and held her there. As she pulled away, he gazed into her eyes. “Is it to be “Your Grace” again?”
Alicia gulped. “It has to be, doesn’t it?”
“I would prefer if it was not,” he said. “You and I are the same—we are of the same standing, and our mothers and fathers were once close in kinship. I would like it if you called me Jacob. And, if I may, I should like to call you Alicia.”
She smiled a little. “It sounds awful nice when you say my name.”
“Does that mean I have your permission?”
She nodded hesitantly. “Let’s see if it works.”
“I can accept that.” He leant against the wall.
“Did you tell your mother what happened that night?” she asked, staying close to him.
He shook his head. “I did not think it would serve her well, if I told the truth.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I said that Owen had been attempting to clean the barrel of his musket when it accidentally fired,” he replied.
Alicia arched an eyebrow. “She believes that?”
“I do not know, but if she suspects otherwise, she did not say so.” He looked out across the churchyard, trying to convince himself that his motherdidbelieve him. For her own sanity. If she thought her son capable of what he had wanted to do, he was quite certain she would have taken leave of her senses, wondering where she had gone wrong with him.
Now, the only people who would ever know what really occurred were Jacob, Alicia, and Tom. All of them were bound in a mutual contract to stay silent. Just as the Duchess had sworn not to tell a soul that Jacob was not exactly the true heir to Ravencliff.
“Well, you don’t have to fear anything from me. I’ll keep your secrets—both of them.” She cast him an odd look that he could not quite decipher. A flicker of… longing, perhaps?
Or maybe that is wishful thinking on my part.He knew how he felt about her. Having her come to his aid that night had fixed his emotions in his heart, but he did not dare to speak them out loud, in case they were not reciprocated. After all, his family had taken her home, her future, her birthright. How easily could such devastation be overcome? Not very easily, he thought.
“At least the Ribbonmen didn’t strike,” she went on, clearing her throat nervously. Jacob had been grateful for that. Without their fearless leader, in the form of Owen, to guide them and give the order, they did not attack Ravencliff during the ball, which did not take place, given the circumstances.
“Have you heard anything of them?” Jacob said. He wanted to talk to her of more than the Ribbonmen and the plot and Owen. He wanted to speak to her of her past, and her hopes, and the things she loved and brought her joy. But the timing seemed all sorts of inappropriate. Even though Owen had tried to kill him, he still missed his brother. Or, rather, the brother Owen had been, before Jacob had returned. A fantasy image of him that had, perhaps, not existed for a long time.
Alicia’s mouth set in a grim line. “Those who knew the part your brother played in the Ribbonmen’s plot are mourning his loss, but they’ve sworn not reveal his identity beyond their loyal group. My Da told me of it yesterday.”
Jacob was thankful for that, or it would have broken his mother’s heart. There could be no risks of the truth escaping, if they were to continue on in some semblance of normality.
“I imagine they hope they can get another wealthy Englishman to fill his place,” Alicia added bitterly.
“It will not be me.”
She chuckled. “I did not think it would.”
“So, what do you say to coming to live here?” Jacob pressed. He did not like to think of her in that squat cottage, nor did he like to think of her having to be there with her father. Despite the coughing fit that had caused him difficulty, Jacob still did not trust that Alicia’s father would not continue to cause her harm. He wanted to be there for her, to prevent any such event from taking place, ever again.
“I would like that,” she said, after a moment. “But I will have to speak to my Da first.”
