“Yes. An older brother and a younger sister.”
“Did you get along well with them?”
“Oh, yes. The three of us were close.”
“And your parents? You are the daughter of a viscount, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about your parents. Did you have a happy childhood?”
She shrugged. “Happy enough. My father never had too much time for his daughters. His only concern was to marry us off as quickly and as well as he could. My mother is very conventional. Her main purpose in life was to make sure my sister and I turned out to be perfect ladies. I don’t know if we ever met her standards.”
He chuckled, thinking of her unconventional aptitude for managing an estate. “But it must have pleased her that you made such an excellent match. You are a duchess.”
She smirked. “Of course. She flaunts my title shamelessly.”
“Did they force you to marry the duke?”
She tilted her head. A tiny, endearing gesture he had come to recognize as pondering. “Not directly. But my other suitor was my husband’s nephew. He was young and handsome. And while courting me, he even pretended to be charming. But despite all that, there was something about him that repelled me at a deep level. I can’t explain it, but he disturbed me. When the duke offered for me, and I got to meet him, I felt comforted by his kind manner. I was not in love with him, but unlike his nephew, he made me feel safe. Cherished. I have come to love him over the years.”
“I see.”
He turned to look out over the field. Even though he knew the truth about her marriage, he couldn’t prevent a stab of jealousy over her declaration of love. Absurd, of course. But damn if he didn’t want that love for himself.
CHAPTER 14
THE NOTE FROM THE DUKEwas awaiting him when he entered his room after the picnic. It was carefully propped against the oil lamp on the dresser, his name scrawled across the front. He regarded it as one would a dangerous object.
What did the old man want? Did he plan to chastise him for all the time he was spending with the duchess, or urge him to move faster with his plans? He didn’t welcome either interference.
In the four days since the duke had revealed his paternity, he had not seen the duke other than at dinner. The old man looked tired and frail, but still commanding. Sometimes he found himself wanting to talk to him. Get to know him better. He knew time was running out, but they were in a deucedly awkward situation. He didn’t know how to proceed, or even what he wanted from this man who had sired him.
For the moment, there seemed to be a friendly understanding between them. He was afraid to upset the balance of their relationship by interacting too much.
Slowly, he approached the letter and ripped it open. It didn’t say much, only inviting him to visit the duke in his rooms at his earliest convenience. Well, he might as well get it over with. Without bothering to change his clothes, he set out towards the duke’s rooms, which were not far away, since his own room was located in the family wing.
Was this placement because the duke wanted to convey he was part of the family? Or because he hoped that proximity tothe duchess would provide more opportunity for dalliance? He hoped it was the former and not the latter, as that would be too tasteless to contemplate.
He might have accepted to bed the duchess, but he would do it well away from this house.
The duke’s valet immediately answered his knock on the door. The ancient man looked even older than the duke, and yet was still active and spry.
“Milord,” the valet said, opening the door and bowing. “His Grace is waiting for you.” So saying, he stepped out and closed the door behind him. It was clear he had received his instructions beforehand.
“Gabriel, have a seat, my boy,” the duke called from the seating area by the fireplace.
A tea service with two teacups had been set on the low table before him. Steam rose from the spout of the teapot, signaling the tea was still hot. Had the duke known he would come straight away at his summons? How lamentable to be so predictable.
“Your Grace.” He bowed slightly before taking his seat.
Something akin to wistfulness shimmered in the old duke’s eyes. “I don’t aspire to be called father. I know I have not earned the title. But would you at least call me by my given name? It is Harold.”
Gabriel inclined his head. “It will take some getting used to. Can I start with Stanhope?”
The duke accepted the rebuff with a sad smile. “If it pleases you. I hope you don’t mind that I call you Gabriel. Did you know I was the one who selected your name?”
He had not known. The duke must have interpreted his shocked expression, for he continued, “It’s true. When your mother told me she had conceived as a result of our liaison, I suggested the name. An angel’s name. It means ‘God is mystrength.’ Maybe I had a premonition that you would need to be strong.”
