“I heard that she was very beautiful, of Scandinavian blood, and that you look very like her,” Callie said with equal softness. “That she was an actress and that she died when you were very young, about four. When I was a child, I simply accepted those facts and didn’t think to wonder more.”
“My father fell insanely in lust for her and they married in a matter of weeks, or so I’m told.” It was hard to imagine his father feeling such passion, but Gordon’s birth was proof. “The lust burned out quickly and, being the man he was, he blamedherfor the fact that he’d married an actress. He began taking mistresses, which enraged her. She might have looked like a cool northern blonde, but apparently she blazed with fire and temper. She left my father and took a lover of her own. My father was outraged and planning to divorce her when she and her lover died in a carriage accident.”
Callie winced. “Surely you didn’t know all that when you were so young!”
“I knew my father despised me, but not why.” He smiled humorlessly. “A boy at my first school told me the stories about my mother. You can imagine what he called her. I was expelled for half killing him. Insults about her were the cause of several of my expulsions. I scarcely remembered her, but I couldn’t bear to hear her slandered.”
“I knew none of this,” Callie whispered, appalled.
“I couldn’t speak of it. Not even to you,” he said simply.
“My family’s domestic tragedies were much quieter than yours.” Her fingers moved restlessly at his waist. “My mother endured endless pregnancies trying to give my father his male heir, but he was cursed with healthy daughters and sickly sons. It was such a relief when my brother Marcus was born and he was a healthy, jolly little boy.” Callie sighed. “But my father wasn’t content with his heir. He needed a spare. That next pregnancy killed my mother.”
Gordon swore under his breath. “How can a man do that to his wife? Your life is infinitely more important than having a male heir. Though I’d like to have a daughter or two that look like you.”
“You wouldn’t mind if she had red-blond hair that has been touched by the devil?” Callie asked.
“Never.” He smiled briefly before shaking his head. “No wonder neither of us wants to return to our childhood homes. We both had reason to escape.”
“Going back won’t be so bad since we’ll be together. I’m certainly not letting you go to Kingston Court alone!” She reluctantly pulled away from his embrace and rose from the sofa. “By tomorrow, we’ll be more accustomed to the thought. For now, let’s go upstairs and listen to fine music. It will soothe us both.”
“It’s either that or fall asleep on this rather undersized sofa, which would be rude.” He stood also and began straightening his appearance.
Callie smoothed back her hair with both hands, using some magic that allowed her to look as if she hadn’t just been doing what she’d done. Then she smiled and took his arm, and they headed upstairs into a healing river of great music.
* * *
Callie found herself relaxing during the concert. As Richard had told her, Kirkland and his wife were superb pianists, especially when they played together on the same instrument. Though Callie was no musician, she could tell that their playing was love expressed as music.
There were indeed ices.
She and Richard left after the refreshments, pleading fatigue, which was true, though it was more emotional than physical. Arms around each other’s waists like young lovers, they walked the blocks to Mount Row in silence.
When they reached home and bed, they made love again, this time with slow tenderness. Richard fell asleep swiftly afterward, his arm around her, but Callie lay awake. He’d come back into her life with an easy confidence and a mastery of life’s challenges that she had desperately needed then.
But tonight he’d been vulnerable in a way she’d never seen before in all the years they’d known each other. For the first time she realized that he needed her as much as she needed him.
At what point did friendship become what the world defined as love?
Chapter 38
The clerk opened the door to the inner office and announced, “Mr. Roberts, Lord Kirkland and Lord and Lady George Audley are here to see you.”
The gray-haired solicitor looked up, surprised, but he recovered swiftly. Rising, he said, “This is an unexpected pleasure. Lord George, I assume you’re my missing Kingston heir?”
“I am.” Gordon offered his hand. “Lord Kirkland and my wife are here to testify to my identity.”
“It’s true that you don’t resemble any of your family, but I believe your mother was of Norwegian blood?”
If the lawyer had shown any hint of disdain, Gordon would have been tempted to hit him, but Roberts’s expression was neutral. “She was, and I inherited her coloring.”
“Very distinctive, and it matches the descriptions I’ve had of you.” Roberts gestured to the chairs. “Please, sit down. I’m sure this discussion will be a lengthy one.” He glanced at the clerk. “Tea, coffee, and refreshments, please.”
After Kirkland and Callie testified that they’d known Gordon for many years and there was no question of his identity, the lawyer apologetically asked for a handwriting sample. That matched the occasional letters Gordon had sent over the years, and the issue of his identity was settled. The family lawyer accepted him as the new Marquess of Kingston and would start on the paperwork needed to affirm his inheritance.
After that, Roberts gave him a swift overview of the family properties and income. Gordon hadn’t realized how much of the Kingston revenue came from the Lancashire coal mines. He was pleased to see that there was indeed a manor in Hertfordshire that would be a convenient retreat from London.
After glancing through the long list of properties, Gordon asked, “Do my younger brothers know I’m alive, or does Eldon think he’s inherited?”
