“I daresay many people have birthmarks on their faces,” Lena muttered, self-consciously rubbing hers.
“Yes, but not many have that heart-shaped one, right where people used to place a patch when patches were still in fashion. You used to say you were lucky to be born with it, and that you did not need patches. Don’t you remember?” Lady Evangeline pressed.
Lena shook her head.
“Don’t you remember anyone at all?” The lady’s voice took on a pleading tone.
Mr Mortimer joined in. “Do you really not remember me, Your Grace? Or Lady Evie, or your husband, the Duke? You and Lady Evie were friends. You were married to the Duke for three years. How is it possible you don’t remember any of this?”
A feeling of helplessness flickered through her. “I really don’t know what to say,” she whispered. “My only conclusion is that I am not this Catherine.”
Even as she spoke the words, doubt beset her. What if she was, and she’d forgotten it? What proof did she have that she was not Catherine?
“We need to get to the bottom of this.” The Duke leaned forwards, piercing her with his stare. “How did you come to be here? Have you been here in Vienna all along? Why don’t you remember any of us? What happened in the last eight years?”
Lena opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a sudden bang on the door. It swung open and a boy with short, stubbly hair and spectacles stumbled into the room.
“So ein Mist!” he swore, followed by a string of other unsavoury swear words.
“Achilles Arenheim, have you been eavesdropping?” Lena asked sternly, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Hecki pushed me,” the boy said as he straightened his glasses and looked around curiously. “We didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it's hard not to overhear certain things, and then you started laughing.”
The other children filed into the room.
“We really weren't eavesdropping, Mama,” Hector said earnestly as he looked curiously at the guests.
“Mama?” the Duke echoed weakly. His eyes were fixed on Hector, his face devoid of all colour.
“Good heavens,” Mr Mortimer exclaimed for the second time that day.
Chapter Eight
“Better and better,”Lady Evangeline breathed.
The Duke finally found his voice. “This is your…son?”
Lena placed a protective hand on the boy's shoulder. “Yes. This is Hector.” She nodded at the boy with the spectacles. “Achilles. Then Theseus and Harmonia.”
“The whole Greek pantheon,” the Duke murmured. “And you, of course, are the beautiful Helena. How could it be otherwise?”
Lena blushed.
Turning to the boy, the Duke asked with a strained voice, “Hector, how old are you?”
Hector returned his regard with steady curiosity. “Almost eight, sir.”
“Eight.” The Duke closed his eyes as if in pain. “Of course you are.”
“Julius,” Lady Evangeline whispered, her face as pale as his. “He's your mirror image.”
There was a beat of charged silence. Then pandemonium ensued. Theo, the eldest, was the most vocal. “What is this? What’s happening, Mama? Who are these people?”
“What did she just say? My English isn’t that good,” Les complained.
“This lady says,” Mona pointed at Lady Evangeline, “that Hecki looks like him.” Her finger moved to the Duke.
The Duke’s knees finally buckled and he collapsed into a chair. “And the other three?” he asked with difficulty. “Are they yours, too?”
