He stared at her.
“Darling,” she cried, using the endearment for the first time, “have you been punishing yourself all these years for something you were not responsible for?” She touched his face.
“It doesn’t bother you?” he asked thickly.
“It hurts me to see you hurt,” she cried. “How could they have told you this terrible story!” She was suddenly furious, as all the implications settled in. This was the dark torment burning in his soul that she had sensed and seen signs of so often.
“They didn’t tell me,” Nick said quietly. “I found out just before I left for the war. They don’t even realize that I know the truth. My father”— and he hesitated—“Derek, I mean, he doesn’t know I found out the truth. That he is not my father, that Chavez is.”
Jane clutched his hand. The hurt in his tone was there, thick and palpable. “Darling, I’m sure he loves you like a son. You are his son! He raised you your entire life.”
“He is a great man,” the earl said.
Jane suddenly, intuitively, understood. “He is your father, Nicholas,” she said stubbornly. “You are the man you are today because of him. You must see him,” she cried. “This is awful, surely he senses something amiss. You must tell him you know!”
“Jane,” the earl said. “You don’t think I am like him?”
Jane knew who “he” was—the Comanchero. “You are kind and good. Don’t you ever say such a thing again!”
“I almost raped you,” he said, very low. “And, God, when you were only seventeen and just a schoolgirl, I wanted you. It was all I could think of. It was depraved.”
She covered his mouth with her palm. “We wanted each other, like men and women do who share the attraction we have for each other. It wasn’t depraved, Nicholas, it was destiny. Our destiny.”
He pulled her into his embrace. “God,” he cried, his face against hers, “what did I do to deserve you?”
“No, Nicholas,” Jane said, threading her fingers through his hair. “It’s the other way around. What did I do to deserve you?”
Their gazes met. His was glistening, but so was hers.
The earl took a deep breath. “Well,” he said, coughing. “Shall we?”
The footman was waiting at a discreet distance. The earl signaled him and let Jane precede him from the carriage. They caught up with Chad and Nick tousled his hair. “Come on, son, you can help me choose a boat.”
“I can?” Chad shouted, thrilled. He ran to the boats, the earl following. He paused to glance back. “Wait here, Jane.” His words were innocuous but his look was not. It was shimmering with deep, deep emotion. “We’ll only be a few minutes.”
Jane nodded. As the earl went to make arrangements, her mind was whirling with the significance of what she had found out. And with it came the determination to cleanse him forever of his guilt at being Chavez’s son and to help him learn, and believe, that he was the magnificent man he truly was. And, equally important, she would bring father and son back together again.
Jane was happy. It was the beginning for them all, the first day of the rest of their glorious life together. They would leave the dark past behind. Now was the present, shimmering with love and passion, and awaiting them was the future, its promise even more glorious.
The afternoon upon the lake passed too quickly amid much laughter and affection and camaraderie. As the Dragmore carriage sped home, Jane found herself imitating Chad, who had fallen asleep on the earl’s left, his head upon his father’s shoulder. Her own cheek pressed his other shoulder, and her lids were so very heavy. The earl’s palm stroked her arm, and she started to doze.
“We’re home, darling,” the earl said in her ear. “Chad, wake up, son.”
A sleepy entourage emerged from the carriage, Nicole starting to howl and squirm in Jane’s arms, Chad holding the earl’s hand. Thomas greeted them at the door with Molly, who rushed forward to take Nicole. The butler was as white as death itself.
“Thomas, what’s wrong?” the earl said sharply.
Jane became fully awake, to see that Thomas was in a rare frenzy, eyes popping as if he’d seen a ghost. “My lord,” he cried. “It’s your wife!”
“My wife?” the earl said, glancing at Jane. Jane suddenly pressed closer to the earl, sensing danger.
“Not the lady Jane.” Thomas gasped.“The other one.”
The earl stared, then his eyes narrowed. “You are making no sense, Thomas,” he warned.
“It’s Lady Patricia,” Thomas cried. “She is here!”
“What?”
