“I understand,” Jo said gently. “I can only imagine how hurt you’ve been.”
“I appreciate your kindness and support.” Ellis tensed. “Would you mind being the one to tell him? I just don’t know how to say it.”
“I wondered if you might want me to do that, and no, I don’t mind,” Jo said, prompting Ellis to let out a relieved breath. “Please understand that I may not be able to control my anger entirely. I am particularly emotional at this point in my pregnancy.”
“I do understand. Not about carrying a baby,” Ellis added with a brief smile. “Though I can imagine how emotional this would make you feel, baby or not. He was unfaithful to your mother while she was carrying you. That’s inexcusable.”
They arrived at Rowland Harker’s terrace in Bloomsbury.
Jo sent her a mild grimace. “Don’t be surprised at how his house is furnished or kept. He employs a butler and a cook. They are a married couple who reside on the top floor. A woman from the neighborhood comes in to do cleaning, but not as often as I think she ought. Whenever I mention that to my father, he waves his hand and says he never entertains, so it doesn’t matter.”
“And yet here we are, though perhaps we shall not be entertained,” she added wryly.
Jo laughed as the coachman opened the door and they stepped to the pavement. When they reached the door, the butler, Peters, welcomed them inside. “Good afternoon, Lady Shefford.”
“My father is expecting me,” Jo said. “And this is my…friend, Miss Dangerfield.”
“Do I hear the esteemed Lady Shefford?” The question floated into the entrance hall as Rowland Harker strode in chuckling from, presumably, the staircase hall. He stopped short and fixed on Ellis. “You’ve brought a friend. She seems familiar.”
“Yes, Papa, you met Miss Dangerfield at my betrothal ball,” Jo replied. “She was Minerva’s companion for many years.”
“Ah, yes, the companion who may or may not be the daughter of the Duke of Henlow,” he noted with a jocular laugh.
Ellis was immediately put off. This wasn’t an auspicious beginning.
Jo narrowed her eyes at him. “Papa, don’t do that.”
“That is a very old and tired rumor,” Ellis said coolly, giving him a direct, unflinching stare.
He inclined his head and appeared contrite. “Just so, my dear. It was in poor taste.”
Feeling slightly mollified, Ellis continued. “I am not, in fact, Henlow’s daughter. Indeed, that is somewhat why we’re here today.” She couldn’t help saying that in response and shot Jo an apologetic grimace—she was going to make the revelation, not Ellis. Jo subtly nodded her head, silently communicating that it was fine.
“I don’t understand that at all,” Harker said with another laugh. “Do come in and explain.”
“Shall we go up to the drawing room?” Jo asked.
“Oh, yes, I suppose so, though it is a bit cluttered at the moment.” He sent Ellis an apologetic glance as he gestured toward the staircase hall.
“Just at this moment?” Jo said with an arch of her brow.
Harker laughed again, and Ellis wondered if he laughed all the time. “You know me well, my dear!”
Jo exchanged a wry look with Ellis, then started up the stairs. Ellis followed her, and their father trailed behind.
When they reached the drawing room, Ellis managed to keep from showing a reaction—barely. Cluttered was a vast understatement. There were books and papers on every surface, as well as teacups and glass tumblers. An empty decanter sat on its side on one table. There were even books stacked on the mantel. A collection of drawing supplies, charcoal and pencils, was piled on a table near the windows. Countless pieces of used parchment lay on the table and on the surrounding floor.
Harker seemed to follow Ellis’s gaze. “This is my secondary work area,” he said. “My studio is upstairs, which I would be delighted to show you, but I’m sure you didn’t come to peruse my art. Let us sit.” He went to the main seating area and moved some things on the settee so the two of them could sit, whilst he dropped into a chair angled toward them.
“Thank you,” Jo said. “I won’t prevaricate, for this is a difficult conversation, and there’s simply no way to prepare you for its effect.”
Harker’s light brows pitched over his eyes with alarm. “My goodness, you’re giving me a fright, dear girl. Is something wrong with your mother?”
“No. This is about you,” Jo said, her tone almost stern. “I’m well aware that monogamy is not to your liking. However, I did not realize you’d given up on it so quickly into your marriage to Mama.” She paused, and Harker appeared somewhat chastised. “It has recently come to light that you got another woman with child whilst she was carrying me. Today, I’m introducing you to that offspring. May I present Miss Ellis Dangerfield, your second-born daughter.”
Harker’s brown eyes rounded as he sucked in a breath. He studied Ellis a moment. “Ah, yes, I see it. The color of your hair, of course, and the set of your eyes. Perhaps even your smile, if I could see it.” He cocked his head and studied her a moment longer. “And who is your mother? I don’t recall anyone named Dangerfield.”
“Her mother is the Duchess of Henlow,” Jo ground out as if she were trying not to clench her teeth. “My mother-in-law.”
