A riot of tangled emotion was churning in Alex, along with the crushing of the tiny hope he’d not even realised existed somewhere deep inside. But the extraordinary adjustment he must make about Apple’s heritage took precedence at this moment.
“What were the facts, ma’am? I hope you mean to tell me.”
“Naturally I must do so, if, as I surmise, Appoline is the offspring of that debacle.”
“But are you only making this assumption on the point of her age, ma’am? Bit of a blind leap, ain’t it?”
“Not when one considers the details, which you obviously cannot do if you will not permit me to state them.”
Alex flushed at the tart note and begged pardon.
Lady Luthrie inclined her head. “In addition, since you have just told us who made the arrangements on Appoline’s behalf, I am the more inclined to the likelihood of her proving to be the late Duke of Melkesham’s grand-daughter. It is conduct typical of him, unlike that of his feckless son.”
Alex could not let this pass. “But the fellow’s reputation goes before him. He’s known to be punctilious and correct to a fault.”
“Not to those of us who knew him in his youth, my dear Alexander. Be that as it may, the fact is Melkesham, or rather Trubridge as he was then styled, saw fit to seduce the sixteen-year-old daughter of his neighbour, Lord Keevil. When the child’s condition was discovered, it all came out. Lord Keevil arrived at Trubridge Castle armed with a horsewhip —”
“Good God! Don’t tell me he set about the fellow?”
“Fortunately, it seems he did not get the chance,” Lord Luthrie cut in. “Hard to keep it secret if the man had received a lashing.”
“Indeed, Charles. As it was, the then-duke’s servants succeeded in subduing Keevil, and the duke took him off to his library where a good deal of shouting went on, so Oriana told me. I regret to say she was so lost to all sense of propriety as to listen at the door, but it did put her in possession of the facts. Trubridge was sent for and the ensuing row, as Oriana reported to me, was worthy of one of these dramas at Drury Lane.”
Lord Luthrie was softly laughing, Georgy sat in wide-eyed attention, but Alex was appalled. If this was indeed the story of Apple’s beginning, she would be the most hurt by a revival of it.
His mother’s brows lifted as she glanced at her husband. “Yes, it is well to be entertained at this distance in time, Luthrie, but if you remember, poor Oriana was utterly cast down. The announcement of her betrothal to Mere was imminent, and she had a great fear the scandal might cause him to sheer off. I felt obliged to insist upon her remaining with us for a se’ennight.”
“Yes, I recall it, my dear, and you proved yourself a true friend.” He glanced at Georgy and then at Alex. “Your mother would never tell me the cause of Lady Mere’s distress. Until now, I had no knowledge of the matter, although I gather the repercussions did not end there, did they, my dear Pippa?”
“By no means, Charles. Suffice to say that with Trubridge claiming to love the girl, his wife choosing to behave like a tragedy queen — for which one must have some sympathy — and quarrelling mightily with her husband and anyone else who tried to remonstrate with her, it was not wonderful that whispers spread about the county in no time.”
Alex blenched. “Then there was a scandal? I thought you said it was hushed up.”
“It was, for Melkesham acted with a speed and efficiency one can only admire. Trubridge and his wife were despatched to the continent on the pretext of a long planned visit to some relative. The wronged child was taken to a spinster aunt who was living at Keevil’s expense, along with a nurse to see to her comfort. Melkesham closed with a vicar under his patronage to marry the girl once she had been brought to bed, no doubt with pecuniary inducements attached. In short, he managed to avert public knowledge beyond vague rumours that none dared openly question, and the matter was in time forgotten.”
“Not entirely,” said Lord Luthrie on a dry note, “if Vergette’s descent upon Alex is anything to go by.”
“Naturally, Trubridge — or rather Melkesham as he now is — will not have forgotten. Nor will Oriana, which is why I have written to her. I am in hopes she will respond by return.”
Alex found himself hoping instead that Lady Mere would prove to be away or incapacitated and incapable of corroborating this hideous tale. Or, if she could, to refute any possibility that the unfortunate child of its making and his little Apple Greenaway would prove to be one and the same.
He broke into rapid protest. “But this is not to say Apple’s trust has anything to do with the late Duke of Melkesham. You’ve not said, Mama, that he made any provision for the child born of this union.”
His mother regarded him with an expression he could not penetrate. “Did I not say that this matter of the trust was the more persuasive?”
“Yes, but —”
“I do not know what arrangements Melkesham may have made, for Oriana did not tell me. It is probable she did not know either. But what I do say is it is just what one might have expected of the old duke.”
Lord Luthrie set his hand on Alex’s arm, his tone one of sympathy. “Considering the provisions he made for the rest, my dear Alex, can one suppose he ignored the claims of the infant?”
No, one could not. That was just the trouble. He took another sip of brandy and found it unpleasant to his palate. There was no remedy for the affliction under which he now laboured. No remedy for the killing of all hope. Only one thought surfaced and he gave it voice. “Can’t burden Apple with all this.”
Georgy was in tears again. “Oh, no, don’t tell the poor thing, Alex. It would be too dreadful for her.”
Lady Luthrie glanced at her lord. “It would be premature to do so in any event. Until I hear from Lady Mere, this is pure speculation.”
Alex was tempted to demand why, in that case, she’d told him. Futile. He knew why. His mother, as downy a woman as any he’d met, had somehow divined his growing tenderness towards Apple. Typical of her to throw such a bar in his way, rather than attempt to appeal to his reason. She was aware he had too much respect for the family name to dishonour it. Unlike Apple’s putative father — if it was Melkesham — he could not put desire before duty.
