“But Horne isn’t titled,” Ramsbury said. “He acts like an entitled prick, but that’s just his nature. No title.”
“Damn.” Delacourt sighed. “We must have a copy of Debrett’s around here somewhere. Or we can get one. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”
“What about Eldon Granger?” Marianne said, and glanced at the two men.
“Oh, yes!” Esme said. “I recall him. His middle name was Hugo and he went by that.”
“He was always coming around Claudia and me against the wall,” Marianne said. “That’s why I thought of him. And his grandfather is the Duke of Hightower. He’s the youngest son of…oh, what was his name. I’ll think of it.” She pondered for a moment and then her face lit up. “Pottinger!”
Jane jerked her face toward Ripley as she realized why that name was instantly familiar. She clung tighter to his hand even as all the color left his face and he staggered back a step.
“Pottinger,” he gasped. “The Earl of Pottinger?”
“Ripley,” Jane whispered, and smoothed her fingers over the top of his hand. “Breathe…please breathe.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Delacourt said. All of them were staring at Ripley now, his strong reaction too much to ignore. “What does that name mean to you?”
“He…” Ripley trailed off and swallowed a few times before he said, “The Earl of Pottinger is my father.”
CHAPTER 15
Ripley’s mind was spinning, or was the room spinning? He was too flummoxed to tell the difference in that moment. All he knew was that everyone was staring at him, worried, wondering…
And then there was Jane, her hand still in his, her soft voice encouraging with words he couldn’t quite grasp as his father’s name echoed in his mind over and over.
He realized she had guided him to the settee and she tugged him down and lifted her hands to his cheeks. They were cool on his heated skin, her gaze firm on his. Everything calmed with her at the center.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped out. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Of course you weren’t,” Jane said.
Delacourt stepped closer. “Pottinger is your father?” he asked gently.
Ripley looked up at him. Both this man and Ramsbury held the same rank in Society as his father. What would they think of him now? But did it matter? Jane needed him to push past the negative feelings that boiled inside of him and focus. So for her, he did.
“Yes. I’m his illegitimate son.” He arched a brow, ready to face some kind of interrogation or cruelty.
It was Ramsbury who replied first. “I see.”
It was said so softly, so lightly. It almost felt like pity. He cleared his throat and withdrew his hands from Jane’s. “So this Eldon person. My half-brother. He seems to match all the items we know about whoever was involved with Nora.”
“What kind of—” Jane began, and then cut herself off. She glanced at Ripley and he realized she was trying to protect him. Thinking of him rather than her sister.
“Ask whatever you wish to ask,” he said. “We need to know.”
She shook her head. “This is too much, though. I can see it.”
“It’s not,” he said. Lied because it was. But he loved her enough to endure it.
She faced the others. “What sort of man is he, then? Marianne, you said you knew him.”
“He was always very quiet, almost a wallflower in his own right. I didn’t think much of him one way or another, but he never seemed cruel or calculating.”
Marianne glanced at Ripley as she spoke, but he could tell she answered the question honestly. He doubted the kind countess could be anything but honest.
There was a fraction of relief on Jane’s face. “That’s something then.” She looked at the two earls. “Do either of you know him well enough to reach out? Or…or to his father or grandfather?”
Ramsbury and Delacourt exchanged a look. “They’re both so much older,” Delacourt said. “I think that set found the two of us rather foolish.”
