A numb sensation overcame Ottilie. She turned to the window and blinked at the sunshine and greenery outside. “Did he have a window?” she asked.
“What?”
“A window. Did my father have a window? You said the asylum was a decent place.”
“Yes, his room came equipped with a window and a view as lovely as this,” her aunt said.
Ottilie pressed her lips together. “All those years, I had a father—only a few miles away—yet nobody told me. It doesn’t seem fair.”
“There was no choice. You did not have a father. He was insane!”
“No!” Ottilie stood up, her numbness giving way to anger. “What’s insane is that you think titles and impressing others is more important than family and happiness.”
“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy a happy childhood?”
“I was happy, but I would have been happier not to lose my father because of other people’s ridiculous snobbery. This grandfather you speak of—a man who sent money but never visited—robbed me of my Papa. And you—who refused to acknowledge my existence while Mama lived—you now think you have the right to tell me how to live my life. At least I understand why you are so desperate for me to marry Lord Towne. You hope it will erase the shame attached to my name—the daughter of your wayward sister and the lunatic she married.
“The decisions your grandfather made were to protect you and this family. My actions, now and then, are all motivated by that same reason.”
“Neither of you acted to protect us. You only sought to protect yourselves and your precious reputations. In fact, I wouldn’t even be allowed in this house if Henry didn’t insist on it.”
“That’s not true.”
“Tell me Aunt, isn’t Lord Towne afraid to have children with the offspring of a madman? Mightn’t I pass bad blood onto my children?”
“You needn’t worry about that.”
“Why not? Mama always did. She steered me away from literature and toward mathematics.”
“You have no need for either, in my opinion. What your mama did to you with all those silly tutors makes me shudder. You would have been married years ago if it were not for her ridiculous notions.”
A biting retort edged on Ottilie’s lips, and she pressed them together to keep it at bay.
“Your father wasn’t born with madness in his blood. It was a consequence of his unsavory behavior.”
“I don’t understand. What caused his madness?”
“Syphilis,” Lady Hudsyn said tightly.
“What?” A weight crushed Ottilie’s chest.
“Now, do you understand? You can thank your grandfather for getting that devil out of your mother’s life before he infected her with his vileness.”
Ottilie rubbed her forehead. She couldn’t think clearly; this was all too much to bear.
“I didn’t want to burden you with any of this,” her aunt said. “But I need you to understand why I object to you running out to see that writer. People will start to make comparisons between you and your mother—”
“Don’t speak about my mama as though I ought to be ashamed of her.”
“Well, now I see that you are getting overly emotional. I will leave you to gather your thoughts and regain control. When you’ve had sufficient time, you will see sense.” Her aunt turned and strode out of the room.
Ottilie pulled her legs up to her chest, rested her head on her knees, and shrank inwards.
*
Jack rubbed theaching muscles in his neck and longed for some distraction. Where was Brandt? He glanced at the pocket watch laying on his desk. Half-after-five. He strode out of his study and crossed the landing.
“Brandt,” he called. “Are you in here?” He pushed open his friend’s door and stepped inside his bedchamber. A slim and very naked young woman scuttled from the bed.
