‘Good morning, my lord,’ she said.
He managed a smile. ‘Good morning, madam. You will forgive me not standing but I fear I would fall over.’
‘As you undoubtedly would. You have been very ill, Captain Alder... my lord... but it seems you are now on the mend and as soon as your strength is sufficiently recovered, you will travel to the Somerton estate at Brantstone in Lincolnshire.’
Somerton estate?
Oh yes, he remembered her now. The woman from the hospital.
He pulled himself up in the bed, flinching as the wound caught.
‘Ah, so I didn’t dream it. Please remind me—who are you, madam?’
She advanced and stood at the end of the bed.
‘I am the dowager Lady Somerton, the widow of your cousin, Anthony, who died in an accident just before Christmas.’
Sebastian looked away, absently pleating the heavy linen sheet between his fingers.
‘I recall you mentioned that at the hospital. My father...’ his voice cracked as he corrected himself, ‘my stepfather was the late Reverend Alder of Little Benning. My mother never...’
His mother had never breathed a word about the identity of his real father. When he was old enough to understand these things, he had asked, but she had turned away, tears in her eyes and he had never asked again.
Your father is dead, Bas. That is all you need to know.
He had assumed himself to be a bastard, andshe had taken the knowledge of his father’s identity with her to the grave. He swallowed, remembering how he would pass men in the streets and wonder if any of them could be his real father.
He squared his shoulders and looked up at Lady Somerton, embarrassed to see she had been watching him.
‘So tell me, Lady Somerton, as you seem remarkably well informed on my antecedents: who, then, was my true father?’
‘James Kingsley, the younger son of the late Lord Somerton, my husband’s grandfather. He eloped with your mother and was cut off by his father. I believe he died shortly after your birth. I have the necessary proof that the marriage was legal. You and my husband, Anthony, are... were... legitimate first cousins.’ She paused and seemed to clear her throat before continuing, ‘Anthony and I were not blessed with children, and, as the closest male in the direct lineage, you are the heir to my husband’s estate. It is quite simple.’
Sebastian passed a weary hand over his eyes. ‘Simple for you, perhaps, Lady Somerton, but I swear to you this is the first I have heard of the Somertons. My mother never thought fit to mention any such connection. Even on her deathbed.’
‘It’s not for me to gainsay your mother’s reasons for withholding that knowledge from you.’ Her tone held a sharp edge as if she were losing patience with him. ‘If you still doubt me, I have the evidence of the marriage, Captain Alder, and of your birth and your father’s death. It has all been duly notarised. Nothing more is needed.’
She folded her hands in front of her, and the import of what she had said finally sank in. He, plain Sebastian Alder, son of a parson, an officer in the Fortieth Regiment of Foot, was now a viscount and the inheritor, he presumed, of some vast estate.
‘I knew that the Reverend Alder was not my father,’ he hastened to reassure her. ‘He took us both in when my mother was in dire need. He was a good man and I could not have asked for a better father.’
He glanced at the ironbound box that stood in a corner ofthe room with the nameAlderstencilled in chipped and fading letters on the lid. The sum total of his possessions fitted in that pathetic box. Surely this had to be some sort of cruel jest, and someone would appear to tell him that it had all been a mistake and he was still plain Captain Sebastian Alder, a wounded officer of His Majesty, now on half pay.
‘I believe you have a brother and sister still living in Little Benning?’ Lady Somerton enquired with an arch to her eyebrows.
He nodded. ‘You are well informed, Lady Somerton. Matthew and Constance are the children of my mother’s marriage to the Reverend Alder.’ He frowned. ‘Do they know of my... change in fortune?’
‘I believe that should be a task for you, not I,’ Isabel said.
‘I will write to them.’ He gave a hollow, unwise laugh that made his wound catch. ‘I doubt they’ll believe me.’ He shook his head, imagining Connie and Matt reading the letter in the parlour of the little cottage. ‘I don’t believe it myself.’
‘You will find all you need in the desk.’ Lady Somerton indicated a mahogany desk in the window embrasure. ‘I will leave you to rest. Is there anything you need?’
Sebastian looked around the sumptuous bedchamber and then returned his gaze to Isabel with a rueful half smile. ‘Some decent food?’
Lady Somerton unbent enough to smile, softening the severe effect of her sombre clothes and hideous matron’s cap, and he wondered if he could lure more smiles from her on better acquaintance.
‘I’m not sure Doctor Sandler will approve, but I will see what can be done. You’re tired. I will leave you in peace.’
