Page 56 of If the Slipper Fits
“He’s well and sends his regards.” Harrison paused in front of a large, gilt-framed oil painting depicting one of Lord Fenton’s predecessors.
The man in the portrait did not resemble Fenton in the slightest. He was, in fact, far more handsome.
Harrison’s words echoed her thoughts. “It’s amazing, is it not, how people can be related by blood, and yet have few physical similarities.”
A fresh frisson of alarm skittered up her spine. Ridiculous. She had nothing to worry about from this young man. How could she? Howcould he know anything? Although something had precipitated his request for this little tète-a-tète.
“I disagree,” she said, deliberately contrary. “Take this…”
She drew the lorgnette dangling on a chain round her neck to her eyes to read the name plate under the frame. “Lord Gerald Fenton. One can assume he’s a direct relation to the current Baron of Femsworth. Note the all too familiar overly large forehead.”
Harrison regarded the portrait. “Mmm. I see what you mean. Look hard enough, and you’re bound to find some sort of tell.”
She sniffed, gave a none-too-subtle elbow tug, and he resumed leading her down the line of portraits.
“I’m afraid I didn’t express myself well. Aside from whether or not relatives tend to look alike, they sometimes share similar characteristics. One wonders if they pass down through the bloodline. Say, a manner of carrying one’s head, or pursing one’s lips. A narrowing of the eyes, perhaps, or a gate.”
“Yes, yes. What of it?” she snapped. Her heartbeat raced in her chest, and a bead of perspiration dampened her upper lip.
“I find it intriguing.”
Schooling her breathing seemed nigh impossible. She jammed to a halt in front of the next portrait and stared at it unseeing as she concentrated on inhaling and exhaling slowly through her nose.
“Imagine, if you will, a grandmother and granddaughter separated for all of the child’s formative years, yet still sharing physical idiosyncrasies.”
Cold suffused her. How had he come to know her darkest, most closely guarded secret?
He went on. “Why, the two, or at least one of the two, might not even recognize the other as a relative, even in the face of those glaring idiosyncrasies. And let’s say one of the two, the grandmother?—forillustrative purposes, we may as well stay with grandmother, granddaughter paradigm.”
“By all means.”
He sent her a benign smile. “Let us say the grandmother possessed knowledge of the true nature of the relationship, and knew precisely how it came to pass the two had never made each other’s acquaintance, all hypothetically, of course—”
“Of course.”
“—one could see how a conversation about the why’s and wherefores of their separation might be difficult to broach.”
“What do you want?” she hissed.
He crossed one arm over his chest and drew his opposite hand to his chin in a contemplative posture. “Want? This is merely a hypothetical scenario.”
She opened her mouth to speak, mortified to feel her chin trembling.
He continued unabated. “Let us suppose this granddaughter happened to have got herself married to one of the dregs of society, albeit a member of the nobility. Having discovered her mistake, perhaps she set out to right her mistake, by, say, vanishing into thin air. A long-lost grandmother might choose to aid her in this endeavor.”
“One never knows.”
“Given enough resources, the young woman could hope to maintain her freedom. Unless…”
“Unless?”
“Unless she happened to attend a house party where she also happened to be recognized by someone who desired the reward for uncovering her whereabouts.”
Her fears for herself, for being discovered, evaporated in a blink. Still, terror gripped her. Legs trembling like they’d turned to water, she placed one hand against the wall for support.
After all she’d done to assure Anna’s safety, to have it all go wrong now. All the money and status in the world didn’t contravene a husband’s bloodyrights.
“What would a grandmother do in such an instance, in your opinion?”
