“He’s a marquis. He’s laid all blame at Chancé’s feet. I’m sorry, darling. Jervis admitted to his father finding her, as he’d intimated. His father kept her for himself.”
“But she was only a child,” she whispered.
“Yes. She was a prisoner in their home until the old man cocked up his toes. She was smart though. With Jervis’s help, she was able to insinuate herself deeply within the network. Jervis will be transported, of course.”
“It appears the widow learned of the Athenaeum Order and manipulated Shufflebottom into something astronomically profitable and irresistible. The man will likely skate. It’s detestable.”
“What of Welton?”
“He’ll have a headache. I can certainly empathize with him.”
She was quiet for a time, then said, “Caroline was only nine and twenty.”
“Your sister was quite resourceful. It’s a shame she hadn’t been able to use her brains for something more—” he groaned. “I’m sorry, my dear.”
“No. You are quite correct. As children, our mother indulged her horribly. In some ways, those skills served her well in how Caroline had been able to survive what her life had become. But in others—well, there is nothing more to be said. She is gone now.”
“Will you tell your mother?”
“What good would it do? No. I shall do as Caroline asked and her identity shall be buried with her.” Maeve sat up slowly. “With all the excitement behind us, I thought perhaps my worries would subside. But still, every day I feel ill thinking of how Mr. Jervis broke Penny’s arm. And how he was after the other children—what will happen to the other children?”
“Lord Lexum and his wife Felicity, Oxford’s daughter, were contacted. She has taken up the cause for Founding and Orphan’s Charity Home.”
“Excellent.”
“I have some news for you, my darling.”
She turned a beatific smile on him. One full of love and trust that twisted his heart in his chest. “Yes?”
“Er, did you know my sister was with child?”
“No! That’s wonderful news!”
“Yes. And I suspect that you likely are as well.”
“Of course, I’m not—” She stopped, looked at him, then down to her stomach and back up. A slow grin curved her luscious lips. “Oh. Oh, my.”
“I think it’s time we moved the household to the country for a time,” he said.
Epilogue
May, Spixworth Hall
H
arlowe slapped some cyan on the canvas and blended it with white and the slightest touch of gray, giving the Atlantic waves a foamy quality. He then slashed the canvas with a brilliant splash of orange to lighten the darkened skies he’d already painted, his thoughts careening in all directions.
Maeve had done a splendid job on the crumbling, tumbling house that was his entailment. Since coming to Spixworth, she had been consumed with righting the household and caring for the children they’d taken in. It was only fair, he’d told her, today, that he would look after them so she could have a minute to herself.
Only to have Lady Ingleby show up on their doorstep. The woman was not what one would consider soothing to the nerves. To the older woman’s credit, she did not seem to take exception to the children in his and Maeve’s care. It had been a stunning revelation. The more Harlowe observed, the more he realized all the woman desired was grandchildren. She loved her daughter and truly wanted her taken care of.
“Good heavens, what iswrongwith you?” Maeve’s furious voice cut through his irritation, jarring him to his surroundings. The muted sun, the soft breeze off the North Sea that whipped his unfashionably long hair into his eyes, the uneasy silence hovering amid the usual children’s screams and laughter.
A faint sound hit his ears. “Papa.”
The flash of cobalt dashed by, heading straight for Spixworth’s one large pond.
He heard it again. “Papa.”
