Page 70 of Ironvine

“Ah.”

“My father kept a mistress here.”

“Did he?”

“She was my mother’s first cousin and one of her closest friends.”

“That must have been shocking for your mother and quite awful.”

“It was indeed.” He sliced into his beef. “That was when my mother left us.”

Georgina did remember overhearing her mother discussing this bit of juicy gossip with her friends over tea once or twice. She didn’t remember the particulars as she was young at the time, but she did remember the gasps and shock that had ensued amongst the ladies.

“Your parents did not divorce?” she asked.

“Of course not.” Charles continued to eat, his gaze fixated on his dish, his tone suddenly cold. “Mother lived at her brother’s house from then on, Penrose Park, which is not far from here. I sometimes was allowed to visit her there, although she traveled frequently before she died.”

“Was your father’s mistress here for long?”

“Years and years.”

“Was she kind to you? Did you get along?”

He laughed darkly as he put his fork and knife down.

“Perhaps not.” She drained her glass of wine, and it was immediately refilled for her.

“Kindness and attachments were never an option in this house, dear Georgie. Whatever my father decided on, one had to accept immediately. It was the only way.” He sat back and drank. His glass was filled, and he drank.

“Was she like a stepmother to you and Hugh in any way?”

“I suppose. Until she decided she wanted to bed me and my brother.”

“Oh.” Her stomach tightened, and she put down her forkful of green beans.

Charles leaned back in his chair. “One afternoon, she and Hugh came upon Father rogering a very young girl, the daughter of a tenant. She was but thirteen, I think. They argued, but he would not give the girl up. So she found a way to amuse herself and get his attention.”

“By bedding his sons?”

“Yes.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen, I think. She and Hugh, however, enjoyed themselves a bit too much. Father discovered them and turned them both out, and she was never heard from again.”

“But Hugh and your father were able to repair their relationship.”

“Of course. Hugh was his heir, after all. He was banished to our house in town for a few months, and had his allowance drastically reduced until he became appropriately humbled. Then he returned to the bosom of his family and was rewarded with a long tour of the continent.” Charles gestured for the servant to leave the bottle of wine at his side.

“Your mother did not return after the mistress left?”

“No. My father enjoyed his liberal way of life too much.”

The syllabub was served, and she changed the subject of their conversation to the design of the house, the small maze in the front gardens, and Charles’s favourite rooms. They retired to the drawing room, where he poured them a sherry.

“Do you play the pianoforte?” he asked, gesturing at the finely carved instrument in the far corner of the room.

“I have taken lessons, of course, but much to my mother’s great disappointment, music was never my strength. Did your mother play?”

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