“He means you, Mama,” Theo put in.
Her shoulders slumped. “The truth is…” She swallowed. “I don’t know,” she finally whispered. She rubbed at the throbbing in her temples.
Hector directed his next question directly at the Duke. “If Mama is your wife, are you saying that you are my father?” His voice rang clear across the room.
Lena closed her eyes, feeling as if she was trapped in a dream.
At first, the Duke did not seem to want to answer. Then finally, he said in a thick, gravelly voice, “It seems to be a distinct possibility.”
Everyone began to speak at once.
“Well, there it is,” Theo muttered.
“This is a grave misunderstanding,” Lena repeated.
“One must examine the evidence,” Mr Mortimer said weakly.
“I knew it, I knew it!” Lady Evangeline clapped her hands.
Hector had gone white as a sheet and said nothing at all.
The pounding in Lena’s head had increased as if the musicians of an entire orchestra were thumping their tambourines in her head. “Silence!” she snapped.
To her surprise, the room fell indeed silent.
She pulled herself up, walked to the door, and opened it. “I beg your pardon, but enough is enough. This situation is upsetting the children, and I won’t have it. Please leave.” When it came to protecting her family, Lena had no qualms about throwing an English Duke out the door by his collar. Even if he was supposedly her forgotten husband. Even if he might be Hector’s father.
“I admit that all this must be rather overwhelming for you all,” Lady Evangeline chimed in apologetically. “And we haven’t exactly approached the whole thing with delicate sensitivity.”
“But there is so much left to discuss,” Mr Mortimer protested.
“Enough.” The Duke cast a searching glance at Lena. “We have indeed overtaxed you. You appear unwell and in need of rest. We will no longer impose our company on you. Let us resume the matter another day.”
He picked up his hat, stick, and gloves, and as he walked past her, she smelled it again, that strangely familiar scent. What was this? It made her want to cry.
Lady Evangeline began to say something, went to the door, came back and threw her arms around Lena, and, before she could recover from the surprise, she too left along with Mr Mortimer.
Lena was left alone in the parlour with her children.
Hector’s face darkened. “He’s not my father,” he declared and stormed out of the room.
Chapter Nine
Later that night,long after the household had settled into silence, Theo knocked softly on the door. “Mama, it’s me. Can we talk?”
Lena opened the door, her eyes tired but alert. She had just returned from Hector and Les's room. Hector had buried himself under his blanket, refusing to speak. She’d sat on his bed in silence for a while, stroking his thick, dark hair, which was so similar to the Duke’s. Then she dropped a kiss on his averted head and returned to her room with a sigh.
Theo stood barefoot in the corridor; his pale face scrunched into a worried frown. A rush of affection welled up in her as she looked at the boy who had been forced to grow up so quickly, stepping into the role of head of the family. It hadn't been easy for any of them since Simon died, but it had been especially hard on Theo, who had always tried to put on a brave front.
“Come in.” She drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders and stepped aside.
Theo sat on the edge of her bed, a deep furrow in his brow. “I keep thinking about what happened today.”
“I know.” Her voice sounded as tired as she felt. “It’s the most unsettling thing.”
His gaze drifted to the intricate patterns on the drawn curtains. “I was just thinking. Wondering, actually.”
“What were you wondering?”
