The rumors about Alistair and Lady Emily Pierce were true, as were those concerning Alistair’s efforts. While he was courting the young woman with an eye toward marriage, he also reviled the concept to such extreme heights that every time he thought of reaching out and asking to spend more time with her, his stomach rose, and he thought he might be sick.
This had nothing to do with Lady Emily, as she was a lovely young woman whom any lord would be thrilled to be seen with.Rather, it had everything to do with Alistair’s feelings about marriage.
Just the thought of it… his hand moved subconsciously to the scar on his neck, and his mind returned to his childhood, his father, the pain and suffering of his youth at the hands of a madman. And that was to say nothing about how his mother was treated.
“Is that why you are here?” Alistair glared at his friend across the desk. “To mock me? To make fun? Believe me, nothing you say will change how I feel. If anything, it will only confirm it.”
Carrowell said nothing at first. The humor left him, and he studied Alistair in a state of deafening silence as he sized up the situation. For once, without the tendency to make a joke.
“So, it’s true then,” he said, finally.
“What’s true?”
“I wondered why you, of all people, had suddenly turned your eye toward courtship. And then I heard a rumor that explained it well, while raising even more questions than were answered. All of which are titillating to say the least.”
“I am warning you, Carrowell…”
Theodore smirked. “Tell me true, my good friend, and please do not lie. How on earth is it that you have a secret son? And how on earth have you managed to keep it from me for all this time?”
“Where did you hear that?” he barked.
“Does it matter?”
“It does if it’s a lie.”
“Ah, but it’s not a lie, is it? That’s why you are so intent on finding a wife. Not because you want to, but because you think that you should. Admirable,” he said with a deep sigh and a hint of humor. “If not a little misguided.”
“And what do you know about anything?” Alistair sneered.
“About as much as you,” Carrowell said with a wicked grin. “But unlike you, I don’t have a secret son whom I have been hiding for… what is it? Eight years? That’s quite the secret to be kept. You ought to be commended.”
“I think you mean condemned.”
“Funny how closely those two often align.”
Alistair was not surprised that Carrowell knew about Hugh. A part of him was relieved, because it meant that the secret was out, which would save him from having to reveal it to shockand horror and severe judgement. But that was where the relief stopped and then died.
The situation concerning Hugh was… nowhere near as simple as it seemed, and even Carrowell knew less than half the truth of it.
Alistair wanted to reveal everything, if for no other reason to have it confirmed that he was doing the right thing.
Of course, there was just no way that he could tell his friend everything. Some secrets were best left as they were, and considering the breadth of secrecy surrounding Hugh’s birth and upbringing…even my best friend, as Carrowell is, might judge me more than I am prepared to be judged.
For now, Hugh was his son, he had decided to take the boy in and raise him as his heir, and that was as much as he was willing to admit.
“Yes, Hugh is my son,” Alistair sighed.
“Oh, I know that. What I want to know is where the boy came from.”
Alistair shrugged. “His mother has been raising him. Sadly, she passed away recently, which is why I have chosen to take him in. He is my son, and as my heir, it is only right that he be raised under my roof.”
“And this mother. Do I know her?”
“You do not.”
“Are you going to tell me who she is?”
“I am not.”
