Sarah frowned. “Possibly. He had many friends in that town, and it took Brian hours to find a carriage to drive us to the plantation. But we weren’t coming to steal you away. As Brian, your real father, is the Marquis of Marlowe and he was with me, there was no doubt that Cyril would have had to give you to us. I know you loved him, might even have fought to stay with him, but, Damon, he is not your real father. You belonged with me, should have been with me all these years. You might forgive Cyril for that dastardly lie, but I can’t. I didn’t get to see you grow up!”
She started crying again. Damon was torn between wanting to comfort her and still being angry over what she had revealed. He was a bastard. And, oh, God, how ironic that Jack had named him that. His chances with her had just dropped a hundredfold.
All he could say was “A marquis? I bloody well won’t call him lord.”
“Dearest, he didn’t know about you until he came to rescue me. I had begged my uncle not to tell Brian. He was still married then. Finding you today is as much of a shock to him as it is to me.”
“I can’t believe Cyril would tell you what he did. I’m not saying he didn’t, just that I can’t believe he would.” Damon paused, thinking about his conversation with Cyril on the way to Jamaica. “Actually, I think he was going to confess it recently, when he asked if I’d learned the truth, but he must have changed his mind and spoke of his gambling instead.”
“I don’t blame Cyril for divorcing me. I do blame him for lying and costing me all these years without you. I feel that loss as poignantly as you do, Damon. When I think that you could have grown up with your real father—”
“You and he...?”
“We’re married now and have been since we returned to England that year.”
Damon nodded and finally sat down on the sofa with her. “I think Cyril stopped gambling after you left, applied himself to work, even made enough to buy a ship to double his profits. Life was good for a while, and all we lacked was you. But after he sent me to school in England, he was alone and started gambling again. When he couldn’t pay his debts, he was imprisoned. I only found out this year and gave him a new start in Jamaica.”
“You’re too kind.”
“He’s the only father I’ve ever known and I love him. He’ll always be my father.”
“And now you have another. But tell me about you. Are you married? Do you hope to be?”
After he gave his mother a modified account of his adventures over the last year and stunned her with the revelation that Captain Hawke was really James Malory, Viscount Ryding, she said, “A Malory girl? That family is well known, and a bit notorious. Now I understand why. Are you sure that’s who you want?”
“More than anything.”
“Well, your father’s credentials should pave the way for you.”
“No,” Damon said curtly.
She raised her brows. “You sound like you resent Brian. Please say you don’t, when he was blameless in all this.”
“He’s not blameless for seducing an innocent girl while he was married,” Damon said a bit harshly.
“Ah, well, that was actually my fault, not his.” She blushed. “He tried to resist me, but I wouldn’t be denied.”
Oh, good God, that sounded far too much like his own situation and was exactly how Jack had behaved toward him. He laughed and hugged her close. “You’re absolutely right, Mother, he’s utterly blameless.”
The door opened and Brian Chandler poked his head around it. “That sounds like my cue to return.”
“You were eavesdropping?” Sarah accused with a chuckle.
“Of course.”
Damon stared at the man, really looked at him this time. He’d never wondered why he didn’t resemble Cyril. Brian was as tall as Damon was and built much the same. Brian, too, had black hair, and some of their facial features might even be the same. If they stood side by side, people might see the resemblance immediately and guess they were related. And so they were. The annoyance, the resentment Damon had felt earlier, it all slid away.
He stood up and held out his hand. “Perhaps we should meet again, Father?”
Chapter Fifty-One
BACK IN LONDON THREEweeks now, Jacqueline was leaving her home for the first time tonight. But they weren’t going far. While Georgina had planned this ball and had attended to every minute detail, they didn’t have a ballroom at their house in Berkeley Square, but Brandon Malory certainly did at his grand mansion in Grosvenor Square, yet another inheritance from the previous Duke of Wrighton.
Jack was hopeful now that Judy had confessed that while the ball might have been Georgina’s idea, making it a masque had been hers. It would give Damon an opportunity to sneak in, like the last time—if he was in London, if he heard of it. One too many ifs, but Jack could still hope.
“Your mother gave me a pile of invitations to take to Regina, who would know who else to invite, since your mother was mostly just inviting family. But I kept half of them and have invited some of your previous beaus.”
Judy had told her this earlier in the week and Jack had complained, “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
