He stared at the child who peeked around his mother’s skirts. His heart clenched. Family. A piece of his brother alive and right in front of him. “Ma’am, I must know. Is this boy a Hartwick?”
The woman glanced past them up and down the street, then sighed. “You best come in. I don’t need my neighbors seeing a duke at my doorstep.” She stepped back and ushered them in. Still keeping the boy next to her with his hand grasped in hers, she said, “Follow me.”
Lucy looked up at him and silently mouthed, “Good Lord.”
He fully shared in her shocked statement. They followed the woman as she led them into the large front room. At one end of the room, two large desks sat facing each other across a deep red oriental rug. The surfaces of both desks were covered in newsprint, paper, and what looked to be small wooden tiles.
“Please have a seat.” The woman motioned them to follow her to the other end of the room, where a settee and chairs were arranged in a cozy seating area. Hart carefully stepped around an army of toy soldiers engaged in battle on the rug.
“I apologize for the mess, but we weren’t expecting company.”
After removing a tin cannon from the couch cushion, Lucy sat down gingerly next to Hart on the settee. “So, you are E. Harper?”
“Yes, my father was Edward Harper, the owner of the Piccadilly Press. He passed away three years ago. I am Elizabeth. After I took over operations, I kept the moniker. It is purposefully vague as anonymity for a woman in this business is important.”
Hart didn’t give a whit whether the editor was a man or a woman. All he wanted to know about was the boy who sat at his mother’s feet playing with his soldiers. He must be at least five years old. Had his brother known about the child?
“How old is he?” Hart asked softly.
Miss Harper ran a hand over her son’s hair. “He will be five this September.” She looked Hart squarely in the eye. “Robert is named after his father.”
Hart expelled a long breath. “Did he know?”
Miss Harper shook her head. “I found out I was pregnant after they were killed.”
Lucy reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. “Miss Harper, would you be willing to tell us what happened between you and Robert? The duke has been trying to discover the truth behind their deaths.”
Miss Harper’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. She looked like she was waging an internal battle.
Hart leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Please, Miss Harper, I beg you. I need to know what happened to them. If you know anything at all that can help me understand. Someone has tried very hard to stop me from knowing the truth.” He raised a hand to his face.
She gave a tight nod, then leaned down. “Robert, go see Mrs. Todd in the kitchen and tell her I said you could have a biscuit or two and a glass of milk.”
“Yay!” The boy jumped to his feet and scampered out of the room.
Miss Harper clasped her hands in her lap. Hart waited for her to gather her thoughts. Her brow furrowed over her deep brown eyes for a moment before she looked up at them.
“I met your brother at a ball quite by accident. We literally bumped into each other coming around a corner. I know you must be thinking, what is the daughter of a newspaperman doing at a high society function? My maternal grandmother is the Marchioness of Rollinsford. They disowned my mother when she married beneath her station for love. But after my mother died, my grandmother had a change of heart and wanted to help me to find an advantageous marriage. She sponsored a season for me when I was nineteen.”
“That was kind of her,” Lucy said.
Miss Harper’s lip turned up into a wry smile. “Yes, well, she promptly dumped me out of her life when I became pregnant out of wedlock. I’ve learned the hard way that the ton are fickle with their affections. But I digress. Robert quite literally swept me off my feet. Our romance was a whirlwind, a precious few weeks. He took me sailing one afternoon and asked me to marry him.
“When he spoke to your father about marrying me, he was told that an agreement between your father and one of his friends had been made years ago to betroth Robert and the man’s daughter. This man’s daughter was much younger than Robert, not even fourteen, I believe, so they had been waiting for her to come of age before making the match.
“Robert was incensed that he had never been told about a deal that would impact his future so immensely. He told your father how much he loved me and how he simply wouldn’t accept another. In the end, your father agreed to support Robert. But when your father broke the news to the other man, his friend felt betrayed. He demanded satisfaction.”
Hart sat back against the cushions. Jesus, how could he not have known about this? “I spent that spring in Edinburgh visiting a friend at his estate. Planned to stay the whole summer.” His visit had been cut short by the news of his family’s death. He’d spent a week racing home on horseback when he had gotten the news of their deaths. “He never wrote me about any of this.”
“He spoke about you often.” Miss Harper offered him a small smile. “Said you were an incorrigible flirt, an excellent card player, and a good friend to all those you cared about.”
His throat clogged with emotion. Lucy squeezed his hand tightly. She had never let go of it during this whole conversation.
He squeezed hers back, grateful for her silent support. “I found a threatening letter in my father’s papers ranting about a broken deal. Now I see it wasn’t a business deal.”
“Wasn’t it? A merger between wealthy families is always about business.” Miss Harper’s voice was laced with bitterness.
“What happened next?” he asked.
