“Your father?” Mr. Lewis’s shaggy brows knitted together. “What about him?”
“Mama always said he died when I was three, but I know now that is not true.”
“You know about the asylum?”
“I do. And I want to understand why my mama never took me to see him. Even if he was gravely ill, it seems harsh to keep a child from knowing her father.”
“She did what she thought best.” Her stepfather dropped his gaze and stared into his teacup as if contemplating how best to continue. “As I understand it—” he lifted his eyes to Ottilie’s face—“your father was a man without morals—one who stopped at nothing to gratify his selfish desires. No woman was safe in his company.”
“I know he was a rake, but is that reason enough to keep his only child from him?”
Mr. Lewis’s gaze drifted from Ottilie to Henry. “You may not have been his only child.”
Ottilie’s skin grew cold, and she exchanged a glance with Henry.
“What are you implying?” Henry demanded.
Mr. Lewis shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Nature blessed Roger Hamilton with good looks and charm, and he used those gifts to his full advantage.” He paused as if reluctant to expel the necessary words from his throat. “As I said, no woman was safe in his company—” Mr. Lewis’s tone and expression took on a quiet seriousness—“And your mama’s sister proved no exception.”
“Now, look here!” Henry stood up.
Heads swiveled. People turned to stare, and Henry straightened his jacket and sat down. A flurry broke out around them.
“I know this may be difficult for you to hear,” Mr. Lewis lowered his voice, “but try to remember that you sought me out and begged for the truth, and I am merely complying with your wishes. Remember too that I only know what my wife—Ottilie’s mama—told me and nothing more.”
“Go on,” Ottilie said, “it’s time we heard the truth.”
Mr. Lewis put down his teacup and straightened his shoulders. “When you were nearing three years old, your mother fell seriously ill with a fever, and Lady Hudsyn came from London to be by her sister’s side. She stayed for approximately six weeks—” Mr. Lewis cleared his throat—“and during that time, Mr. Hamilton and Lady Hudsyn engaged in a brief liaison.”
“How dare you!” Henry banged his fist on the table, rattling the cups and spoons.
Ottilie touched his arm. “Please, Henry. I only ask that you listen.”
Henry clenched his jaw. “What you say makes no sense, sir. My mother wouldn’t have deigned to stay in the same house as Mr. Hamilton, let alone…” He pursed his lips and breathed deeply before continuing. “She disliked her sister’s husband. They were estranged for that very reason.”
“Their relationship had suffered a strain, but they were not yet estranged. Your grandfather vehemently opposed his daughter’s marriage and banished Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton to the countryside. But he kept in contact with them and continued to provide his daughter with a comfortable living. For the first two years, the money kept Hamilton satisfied, but with each rejection from a magazine or publisher, his drinking increased, and his behavior worsened. It proved too much for him when his wife fell ill. Then his beautiful and sophisticated sister-in-law arrived on his doorstep and—well…” He glanced at Henry’s stony face and paused.
“Go on.” Henry’s voice sliced the air.
“As I understand it, the situation in the house was stressful. Lady Hudsyn suffered great distress seeing her sister so ill, and Mr. Hamilton took advantage of her fragile state. He used his charms to flatter and seduce her. Six weeks later, when she returned home to London, Lady Hudsyn discovered she was with child.”
“Preposterous!” Henry hissed, and Mr. Lewis jumped. “Are you suggesting that Lord Hudsyn is not my father?”
Ottilie pressed her lips together; her heart ached for Henry.
“I don’t know for certain—no one does. You may well be Lord Hudsyn’s son—or not. No one would have been the wiser, but Augusta wrote to Mr. Hamilton and declared her love for him, saying she was going to give birth to their child.”
“I don’t believe a word of it!” Henry leaned forward and glared at Mr. Lewis. “My mother would never write such words. She’s as stiff and proper as the queen herself.”
“He’s right,” Ottilie said. “This doesn’t sound in line with Aunt Augusta’s character.”
“Not today, no. But three-and-twenty years ago, your aunt was a young woman of two-and-twenty, wed to a man some thirty years her senior.”
Ottilie sat in stunned silence.
Did he declare you were his muse?Lady Hudsyn’s voice rang in her ears.Did he flatter you with honeyed words and soft kisses?She’d thought her aunt’s sour attitude stemmed from anger and spite but now realized it served to mask her pain.Lady Hudsyn didn’t hate my father; shelovedhim. She tried to spare me, but she was too late.Ottilie’s stomach clenched, and pain seared her chest.Even so, she betrayed my mama. How can I forgive her for that?
Henry sat beside her. He, too, appeared to be deep in thought.
