Chapter Twenty-Five
Ridge watched Isabella until she was out of sight, his heart expanding with the knowledge that she was his. He still had to figure out what to do with his life, now that he’d ceased any further activity for Whitehall, but he was confident that he would be able to make a good life for Isabella—and their family. While the thought of becoming a father scared him most of all, considering he never had one of his own, he prayedhe didn’t muddle up the poor child’s life.
“Shall we retire to my private parlor?”
Ridge glanced over atMillicent, so lost in his own thoughts that he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone.
“Would you care for some tea?” she offered. “Or perhaps something a bit stronger?”
“I could go for some brandy,” he returned, shoving a hand through his already tousled hair. “It’s been quite a morning.”
“Indeed, it has,” she murmured in return. After pouring them both a glass, she handed one to him and they sat down across from one another near the low burning fireplace.
He took a bracing sip and glanced about the room decorated in varying shades of red and purple. “You know, I always liked it in here when I was young. It felt…rather cozy, somehow.”
Millicent smiled. “I daresay you were underfoot enough.”
He chuckled, and they both fell silent, but it wasn’t awkward, but rather the kind of mutual stillness born of companionship.
After a long while, Millicent heaved a sigh. “There was something brought to my attention earlier, and given a bit of time to reflect, I decided that my subterfuge has gone on long enough.” She tapped a smooth, polished nail against her glass. “While I can’t imagine anything good will come out of what I say, you have a right to know the truth of things. It was wrong of me to deny you that for so long. Perhaps you might not have been so…restless otherwise.”
Ridge’s forehead drew together in a frown,not sure what to expect,but he didn’t speak, just waited for her to continue.
After a time, she lifted her dark eyes to his and said, “Your mother didnot perish in childbirth. I fear that was a lie I told you in order to protect you from the truth.”
Ridgerelaxedhishands.He hadn’t even realized he’d been clenching them until the nails bit into his palms.“Which is?”
She looked at him with empathy in her gaze. “I’m your mother.”
For an instant, he couldn’t breathe. The room seemed to spin about him,crowding together in a flurry of memories through the years, but then, it stopped. His frownfaded awayas he glanced at her and said softly, “To be honest,I think I’ve always known.”
She shook her head. “There was no way you could possibly surmise something like that.”
He rubbed his jaw.“I distinctly recall a time when I was little, perhaps not even five, and I fell and scraped my knee.”His gaze became distant as he recalled thatalmostforgotten stitch in time. “It wasn’t even the manner in which you spoke to me, but your touch that I’ve always remembered.I imagined thatonlya mother could be sokind.”
When he looked at Millicent, she was blinking rapidly,her eyesshimmering with unshed tears.
While this was the most difficult part for him to say, for he wasn’t sure he even wanted to know, he had to ask, “Do you know who my father is?”
Millicent clasped her hands together. “I do.” She took another generous sip of her brandy. “But I think you should understand a little bit more about my past—where you came from.” Her smile was tight, as if what she was about to impart was difficult. “Iwas born Mary Claymoore andgrew up in Northamptonshire in a small village called Corby. My father was an ironworker, and my mother took in wash to help with the expenses of raising a large family. There were eleven of us. I was the eldest.” She smiled faintly. “It was a loving home, even if we were dreadfully poor and had to scrounge for our next meal.When I turned sixteen, I decided that I would find a position to help make ends meet, so I answered an advertisement in the paper and traveled to Bristol to interview as a scullery maid in an affluent townhouse in Berkeley Square. I was hired, but shortly after I started, I began to receive quite a bit of attention from the master’s son.”
She sighed heavily. “It was foolish in the extreme to embark on an affair, but it happened anyway, because I was young and naïve and he was charming and handsome. When I found out I was with child, I was dismissed without reference. I couldn’t go home where my parents had enough mouths to feed.However,with my lover’s assistance,I was able to survive. I was his mistress for a short time, where he lavished jewels and fine gowns on me, which I latersold for more important things.” Her chin wobbled. “They were the happiest days of my life, but my time was short, for while his parentswere awareof my condition, I had kept you a secret from him. Thus, when we parted waysafter a few short weeks, I was heartbroken, but Ihad always knownI couldn’t remain as his lover forever, for he would eventually wed and start a family of his own, where I could be nothing more than the ‘other woman,’the mistress he kept,which I refused to be.I cared about him and our love too much to subject it to that much scorn. So, without many options for a woman in my predicament, I was lucky enough to buy this old boardinghouse and turnitintoMadame Rinards’House of Ill Repute and I became known by my pseudonym of Millicent. It’s been my trade ever since.”
“Did you ever go home to see your family?” Ridge wondered.
“No. I daresay I couldn’t face my father again after I’d ruined myself almost immediatelyupon walkingout his front door. I have kept in touch with my siblings from time to time by post, but my mother has passed on.”
“They’ve never even bothered to come visit you?”
“I didn’t want them to see what I’ve been reduced to,” sheamended. “And they have abided by my wishes.Either way, that life seems so far gone and foreign to me now.”
Ridge digested all this, wondering if he should even try to reach out to these peoplewhomhe didn’t even know. So many aunts, uncles,cousins…he couldn’t even imagine it. It was almost too overwhelming for his mind to process.
“I don’t want you to feel obligated to see them or begin a relationship,” Millicent spoke up, as if reading his very thoughts. “They are aware of your existence, although I’ve told them very little about you.”
“And my father?”Ridgereiterated.Hewould be lying if he said he’d never wondered about his faceless sire, but now he might, at long last, have a name.While he considered his Claymoore relations, this was one person he had always been curious about.
Millicent nodded and released a steadying breath. “His name was David.”
