“Of course,” Lena replied. “They are my stepchildren, but they are like my own flesh and blood.”
“Stepchildren.” The Duke, an eloquent diplomat and feared opponent in the English parliament, visibly struggled to find his next words. “You have a husband?”
“Er, no. Simon Arenheim was a widower. I took on the role of the children’s mother, but we were not in a relationship. To keep people from talking, Simon suggested I take on the family name.”
The relief that washed over his face was unmistakable. “And how exactly did you end up in this family?” he pressed.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Theo interrupted with a scowl. “But who are you?”
Mr Mortimer introduced them.
Theo's eyes widened. “You mean he's a real English Duke?”
“Indeed, he is,” Mortimer confirmed.
“Famos,” the twoboys said in unison.
Theo scratched the back of his head. “And, for some obscure reason, I seem to understand that you're saying Mama’s your wife and Hecki's your son? Or is my English so bad that I completely misunderstood?”
“You understood correctly.” The Duke nodded curtly.
“What makes you so certain that she is your wife?” Theo pressed.
“We were about to investigate the matter when you burst into the room,” the Duke replied.
“That is correct,” Mr Mortimer pushed his spectacles up his nose. “We were about to examine the evidence, such as the uncannily similar appearance, the birthmark, and the gestures that are identical to those of Her Grace, as well as the fact that there are three of us to confirm it. We were about to discuss the most puzzling discovery that Her Gr—I mean, Frau Arenheim”—he stumbled over the name—“does not seem to remember anything. Not even us.”
“There is one more thing,” the Duke said with a frown. “Another birthmark.” He turned to Lena. “You have another birthmark, don’t you?” His gaze bored into hers.
She could deny it and end it all with a simple lie. Her life would go on as it did before. She could continue living with her children as she did before, simple and carefree, contained in a bubble of happy, blissful ignorance. Not caring, not knowing about what had happened in the past. She did not need to know. She didn’twantto know. She just wanted to live and enjoylife. Here in Vienna. With her children. Without change. Ever.
She ran her tongue over her dry bottom lip.
“Don’t you?” he repeated, his voice almost gentle.
She opened her mouth to deny it.
And she knew instantly, with a miserable punch to her stomach, that she couldn’t lie.
She gave an almost imperceptible nod.
Lady Evangeline squealed. The children jumped and talked at the same time.
The Duke’s expression was completely indecipherable.
“Where?” Theo shouted.
The Duke raised a pale hand and silence fell immediately. “Evie, go with Cath—I mean, Frau Arenheim to another room and let her show you the birthmark. You must see it with your own eyes. Then return to tell us where it is. I will confirm or deny whether it is identical to Catherine’s.”
“That’s a fabulous idea.” Lady Evangeline grabbed Lena’s hand and pulled her out of the room. “Let’s go.”
Lena liftedher dress along with her shift and showed it to Lady Evangeline. Her other birthmark was on her stomach. It was a flat, brown, perfectly round disc the same size as her navel.
She tried to downplay its significance. “Of course, people have all sorts of birthmarks on their bodies, so who’s to say this is the ultimate proof that I’m the lost duchess?”
Lady Evangeline leaned over to examine it closely. “Certainly, I too have birthmarks, one on my left shoulder and one on my hip. The one on my hip has the shape of England. However, that’s beside the point. The point is that Julius knows it’s there.” She smirked. “I dare say only the most devoted husband would remember the exact location of his wife’s birthmark after eight long years. Especially—” she glanced at Lena’s stomach “—when it is in a location as intimate as this.”
A fiery heat rushed into Lena’s cheeks. She didn’t want to think about how the Duke knew the birthmark was there. She refused to think about it. Just as she’d refused to think about so many other things the past eight years…
