“It does not matter. She is gone,” he pressed.
Florence leafed through the pages, smiling sadly.
“I did not realize how much you loved her, this woman who replaced me. I thought she would be just another flip-skirt, easily forgotten...”
Jeremy felt a stab of overwhelming anger and crossed the room in quick strides, snatching the paper from her. One picture was caught between them, tearing across Harriet's face.
“Get out of here! Go!” Jeremy roared. “She has my heart and always will. I will marry you out of duty, but we will live separate lives. Do you understand?”
Florence took a hurried step back, nodding.
“I do. It is not what I wanted. Not for either of us. I am sorry.”
Tears were filling her eyes, her face creasing with grief. Jeremy's lips curled.
“What we wanted is not what we are fated to get. We take the cards we are dealt. Sometimes it will be a winning hand. Sometimes not. This is not, but there is no use in complaining. I will do my duty.”
“Even if you are miserable for the rest of your days?”
“Happiness is a luxury.”
“It shouldn't be...” Florence put her face into her hands, “...I cannot do it. Please do not be angry. I...”
Jeremy looked at her with a wooden expression. He was not curious. There was nothing to inspire emotion now that Harrietwas gone. Anger would color him until even that faded into an amorphous grayness.
“Edward is not your son. Nor mine. His mother is Eleanor, the maid I brought with me. He is the son of her employer, who fired her when he discovered she was with child. I knew him and took her in but did not have the means to keep all three of us. But he, the father, mentioned you. How rich he was going to be as a result of you. And I thought...”
“He has my birthmark,” Jeremy said blankly.
“No, he doesn't. It is a simple dye that will wash off his skin in a matter of weeks,” Florence said, miserably.
Paper fell from Jeremy's hands. He stared at Florence, disbelief written across his face.
“I—I was desperate, and I thought that perhaps fatherhood would improve you, make you happy even if I could not. I will tell Eleanor that the ruse is over. We will leave immediately.”
Jeremy held up a hand.
“And go where?” he asked.
“It is not your concern. I will not drag you any further into misery,” she cried.
“And I cannot simply evict two defenseless women and an infant. I swore to protect you, and I will do just that. Whom is the father?”
He already knew. Instinct told him. There was only one person who would brag as to how wealthy Jeremy was going to make him.
“The… the Baron of Linwood,” she stammered.
Jeremy stared down at Harriet's face, scattered across the floor. Anger flowed through his veins like fire. The need to go after Simon Winchester and punish him was as urgent as the need to breathe after a minute underwater. But Harriet's face quelled that fire.
“I am free of my obligation,” he whispered, “I do not have to...”
He did not finish the sentence spoken under his breath for his own ears. He ran for the door, catching hold of the doorframe and looking back at Florence with a wild grin.
“Florence, do not fret. I will not put you, Eleanor, or Edward from this house. I will protect you, and I do not blame you. But I must take my own destiny into my hands. Fate has rolled the dice against me, and I intend to beat him!”
He was in his shirtsleeves, the material stained by paint as were his hands. He stopped long enough to pull on a pair of riding boots before haring out to the stables. A bemused stable-boywisely stepped aside as Jeremy tore through the stalls like a whirlwind, saddling his favorite charger. He put the animal to a dead run, pointing it towards Oaksgrove.
The Danbury parish church was bedecked with flowers arranged artfully to form the tricolor flag of France next to the red and white of England. Villagers thronged around the churchyard, looking excited and expectant. When the carriage bearing Harriet and Ralph arrived outside the church, they let out a huzzah and threw rose petals. Servants of Oaksgrove lined one side of the path into the church. Facing them was the staff of the de Rouvroy's official residence in London.
