She was finishing a note in the drawing room and had just asked Graves, their butler, to fetch her cape when he announcedshe had a gentleman caller. A smile broke on her lips thinking it was Lucien before Graves added, “Baron Lockwood, my lady.”
A flicker of annoyance danced along her skin. “Surely, he’s here to see my father.”
“No. He asked for you specifically and asked me to give you this.” He held out a slip of paper.
Taking the note, she quickly began to read, and as she did, her anger built. “Show the baron up.”
“Shall I organize refreshments?”
“No. He won’t be here long enough. I have an appointment I must get to.”
She rose from her chair and began pacing the room. The baron’s note was impertinent. What information did he have that shehadto know about Lord Furoe?. Her brother, Julian, ever the politician, had taught her to hide her emotions whenever in a conversation where you don’t know what the other party is trying to gain. So, she would be pleasant until she ascertained Baron Lockwood’s information.
She retook her seat by the fire and maintained her cordial smile, though it felt brittle on her face as Baron Lockwood settled himself uninvited into the chair opposite hers. His golden hair gleamed in the firelight, carefully styled to suggest casual elegance, but there was nothing casual about the calculating look in his pale blue eyes.
“How can I help you, Baron? I have an appointment with Lady Farah that I must get to.”
“I’ll come straight to the point, Lady Courtney,” Lockwood said, leaning forward slightly. “I find myself in possession of certain information about your…fiancé. Information that would be most distressing to society should it become known.”
A cold finger of dread traced its way down Courtney’s spine, but she kept her expression placid. “How fascinating. And what information might that be?”
Lockwood’s smile widened, like a predator sensing weakness. “It concerns his time in Ireland. Specifically, his relationship with the woman he claims was his wife.”
The emphasis he placed on “claims” made Courtney’s heart stutter. Was this what Lucien had been hiding? The secret that made his eyes darken with shame whenever their conversation veered too close to his time in Ireland.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning, Baron,” she said, proud of how steady her voice remained. “Lord Furoe’s wife died some time ago. It’s hardly a secret.”
“Ah, but that’s just it.” Lockwood settled back, clearly enjoying himself. “She wasn’t his wife at all. There was never any marriage, Lady Courtney. I’ve had my people searching parish records throughout Ireland—particularly in Malahide and the surrounding areas. No record of any marriage between a John Collins, as he was known in Ireland, or Lucien Furoe, or any other name, to a woman named Ava.”
Courtney’s fingers tightened imperceptibly on her fan. “Records can be lost, Baron. Especially in a country that experienced rebellion.”
“Indeed, they can,” he agreed smoothly. “Which is why I also made inquiries about this Ava. It seems she was known in certain circles in Dublin before relocating to Malahide. Circles of a decidedly…improper nature. She was a lady of the night.”
Understanding dawned, sharp and painful. Ava had been a courtesan, or worse.
“How opportune for your inquiries,” Courtney remarked, keeping her tone light despite the thundering of her heart. “Though I fail to see why you would concern yourself with Lord Furoe’s private affairs.”
Lockwood’s eyes glittered. “Oh, but it’s not just his private affairs, is it? It affects his family, especially his sisters, and of course, you directly. After all, you’re planning to marry a manwho lived in sin with a common whore. A man who is presenting his bastard daughter to society as legitimate.”
The crude words struck like physical blows, but Courtney refused to flinch. This was what had been weighing on Lucien. Not just the deception practiced upon him by Ava, but the implications for his sisters and Ava-Marie. The innocent child who would bear the stain of illegitimacy if the truth were known.
“If you’ve come merely to spread malicious gossip, Baron, I’m afraid I must ask you to leave,” she said, rising from her chair. “I have an appointment I cannot miss.”
Lockwood remained seated, his smile turning cold. “Not gossip, Lady Courtney. Facts. Facts that would ruin Lord Furoe if they became widely known. Facts that would taint his sisters’ prospects for suitable marriages. Facts that would see his bastard daughter shunned by society.” He affected a sympathetic expression. “Facts that would make you the laughingstock of society.”
She gritted her teeth and refused to rise to his bait.
He continued, “Think of the poor child. Born to a common trollop, raised to believe herself legitimate, only to have that security ripped away when the truth emerges.”
Bile rose in Courtney’s throat. “You disgust me.”
“Perhaps. But disgust doesn’t change reality.” He examined his fingernails with feigned nonchalance. “Society has certain expectations, especially regarding bloodlines and legitimacy. The scandal would be…devastating.”
Courtney’s mind raced. If what Lockwood claimed was true—and deep down, she suspected it was—then it explained so much. Lucien’s reluctance to discuss his time in Ireland, his protective fierceness toward Ava-Marie… But what hurt her more than the baron’s words was that Lucien hadn’t confided in her. She understood his fear. But she wanted a relationship where they could tell each other everything. The old Lucien would have…no.No more old Lucien. She couldn’t keep doing that. To him or to herself.
But they would need to learn how to trust before she would contemplate marriage to him. Not being in love with her was bad enough, but how could they build anything without trust? Would he have told her before they married?
“What do you want, Baron?” she asked directly, no longer bothering with pretense. “You didn’t come here merely to inform me of these facts.”
