Chapter Seventeen
Once their landladyhad collected their dishes and left, they sat in the quiet, the only sound the muted crackling of the fire and the wind in the trees outside.It was beautifully peaceful, Tessa thought.Flora, clean and well fed, was snuggled sleepily on her lap.Her precious new daughter.Tessa could hardly believe it.
Marcus was sipping wine and staring into the flames, seemingly deep in thought.
Tessa broke the silence.“How are we going to explain Flora when we go back to England?”The question had been nagging at her ever since they’d decided to keep her.It was one thing for Marcus just to announce it, but he was an earl and used to everyone obeying him without question.
But arriving with a toddler out of the blue would be bound to cause gossip and speculation.She didn’t care about her own reputation—that was lost long ago—and Flora was too young to care.But when it came time for her to marry, things would not be so easy.Tonfamilies were very particular about who they admitted into their ranks, whose blood they allowed to mingle with theirs.
Of course, all that was a long way off, but still, it needed to be considered.
“I’ve been pondering that very question.”Marcus set his glass of wine aside.“That blacksmith said this little one’s father was an aristo, an officer—anEnglishofficer.”
“Yes.What are you getting at?”
“Louis was an English aristo and an officer.And this wee one has the same coloring at Louis.”
“Yes.but ...You can’t possibly be imagining that Louis was her father?He died at Waterloo, long before this little girl was conceived.”
He nodded.“I know that.But how many others do?”
She frowned.“Marcus, what are you suggesting?”
“What if your brother didn’t die at Waterloo, but crawled off somewhere, wounded with a head injury.He was taken in by a Frenchwoman who cared for him until he was back to health, but unable to recall his name or anything else.In gratitude, he married her, and they had a child.”
“It’s a fairy tale.Who would possibly believe it?And then what?We found her by accident?”
“No, we sought out the child.Louis died after she was conceived—perhaps a piece of shrapnel migrated to his heart or brain or something.It does that sometimes, I’m told.But it doesn’t matter what he died of—we’ll keep it vague.It would be speculation on our part anyway.”
Tessa nodded.She could see how that might be plausible.“It’s not too far from what we know about how Flora.”
He continued, “Just before Louis died, he got his memory back and wrote to you, to let you know he was alive.But he died before he could send it.His widow forwarded it with the news of his death scrawled on the outside, but it was addressed to Edgar, who never told you.”
“Anyone who knew Edgar would easily believe that,” she agreed.“But after he left for America, we found the letter.”
“Exactly.So you received the letter—you hardly know anyone in society so nobody can say you didn’t—which is why we decided to visit Waterloo on our honeymoon, not only to visit the battlefield where your brother was so gravely wounded, but to enquire after his widow.”
She nodded slowly.“That would work.”
“Only when we went looking for Louis’s widow it was to discover that she had recently died, and little Flora was an orphan.Naturally we would take in your niece.”
She thought about it for a minute or two.“It sounds all right, but will we need to explain that to everyone?I’m not very good at lying.I go bright red whenever I try.”
