Diana turned to stare at him. “Thewhat?”
How much to say? “When Julia was only sixteen, my father forced her into a marriage that turned into a nightmare,” he said tersely. “Her husband died of an accident when he was drunk, and both my father and her father-in-law blamed her for the death. My father disowned her and refused to let her come home. The situation was so dreadful that she faked her own death and hid in the far north for years.”
“At the time, I heard a rumor that she’d killed herself and the family hushed it up. To think that she was driven to such despair! What strength she must have.” Diana glanced up at him, her gaze sympathetic. “And how dreadful for you. I had the impression that you’d been very close and mourned her greatly.”
He drew a slow breath as he halted the carriage to allow several children and an elderly woman to cross the street. This wasn’t turning out to be as casual a conversation as he’d intended. “It was . . . devastating. As hard as losing my mother.”
Why had he said something so personal? Because it had always been so easy to talk to Diana. He’d told her things he’d told no one else.
In silent commiseration, she laid her hand on his where he held the reins, not removing it until he signaled his horses to start moving again. After a silence, she asked hesitantly, “Were you angry with your sister when she returned, for leaving you alone with your father and not letting you know she was alive?”
Diana had always been unnervingly perceptive. “Briefly.” More hurt really. “That didn’t last long, not when I saw her again and learned the full story.”
“What persuaded her to return?”
“She married a rather formidable army major who could stand up to my father, even at the old duke’s worst,” Anthony explained. “Randall is a very decent fellow, but as an experienced soldier, he said that Conrad, the hero ofThe Corsair, was an idiot.”
“A lot of women love the poem, but really! All that romantic doom and melodramatic extravagance!” Diana shook her head. “Conrad had no common sense whatsoever.”
Anthony had to laugh. “Says the woman who has lived a wildly romantic life of adventure!”
She gave an unladylike snort. “One must have a great deal of common sense to travel as I did. Luck, too. I’m certainly not sorry I did it, but I would not say my travels have been wildly romantic.”
“How would you describe your adventures?”
She thought about that. “Interesting. Surprising. Life changing. Occasionally dangerous. But only rarely romantic.”
He wondered what she considered romantic, but perhaps he was better off not knowing. “I’m really looking forward to those memoirs. Do you have a title for the book?”
“My memoirs are becoming a series! I’m thinking something likeTravels of an Independent Lady, Volume 1, Greece, but that might well change.” She cocked her head quizzically. “But you said ‘sisters,’ plural? Did your father remarry?”
“No, Athena is an illegitimate half sister. Her mother was a scandalous wellborn lady who was so irresistible that even the old duke succumbed to her charms. He acknowledged Athena as his daughter and paid for her schooling after her mother died. He did give her a very modest allowance on the condition that she never, ever, reveal her identity to anyone.”
“I knew your father was dreadful, but he was even worse than I thought!” Diana said, appalled. “To treat all his children so abominably!”
“He didn’t much like people, and in particular he didn’t like women,” Anthony said dryly. “After my father had his heir, he and my mother lived separate lives. She was very happy with that arrangement.” And she’d quietly found love with a kind, quiet gentleman. Anthony was grateful that she’d had that.
“How did you discover your unknown sister? Did she come forward after your father’s death?”
“No, she was living on the Peninsula and didn’t know he’d died.” Didn’t know and would not have cared. “After I succeeded to the title and was working night and day with the family lawyer to sort it all out, I discovered regular payments to a mysterious female for decades. The lawyer enlightened me.”
“Were you shocked? Horrified?” Diana asked with interest.
“Shocked that my father had done something so passionate as have an affair with a beautiful wicked woman,” he said, his voice dry again. “Horrified because of the way Athena had been treated.”
Diana sighed. “I’ve never understood why so many people blame a child for the sins of their fathers and mothers. My mother was like that. I have a niece around my age whom I knew nothing about until a couple of years ago. She’s delightful, but my mother was not the most tolerant woman. She loathed scandal, so she sent the poor infant out to be fostered and ordered her son not to tell anyone of the girl’s existence.”
Startled, Anthony said, “Was she your brother Geoffrey’s daughter? Surely he would never have treated a child of his like that!”
“No, she was the daughter of the youngest of my three brothers. He was what I believe was called ‘a loose fish.’ Rather charming and never meant harm, but quite unreliable.”
“How did Lord and Lady Lawrence react when they discovered her existence?”
“They welcomed her into the family and Geoffrey immediately arranged a dowry for her. She was recently married and kept saying she didn’t need that, but Geoffrey, bless him, said it was hers by right.”
“Well done.” Anthony had done the same thing for Athena when he discovered her existence even though she hadn’t needn’t the money, either. It was hers by right. “Julia and I were both keen to meet our unknown half sister, so when she returned to England we swooped in and claimed her for our own. There are family resemblances among the three of us, but she didn’t inherit my father’s temperament, for which we’re all grateful.”
“I love a story with a happy ending,” Diana said seriously. “She was lucky you and Julia accepted her so warmly.”
