Twenty-Seven
Even though Arthur was becoming accustomed to surprising Mason family disclosures, having Eunice’s father show up on the scene was an unexpected circumstance he wouldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams.
“I think I’m going to need a detailed explanation about, well, everything, especially how a father I thought was dead seems to be very much alive,” Eunice said, shooting a glance to Douglas, who’d not spoken a word since she’d told him who she was but had instead moved to the closest chair and taken a seat, quite as if his legs were in danger of failing him.
“I’ll be back in a jiffy” was all Georgette said before she bolted out of the room, leaving Eunice frowning after her before she resettled her attention on her father. “Looks like it’s up to you to explain.”
Douglas ran a hand over his face. “I wouldn’t know where to begin. Although I do have numerous questions I’d like to ask you—such as what you’ve been told about me.”
“As I just mentioned, I was told you were dead—died before I was born. I believe a sudden illness was to blame.”
“I suppose that was one way of explaining why I wasn’t in your life.”
“Death did seem to explain that rather sufficiently.” She pulled up a chair next to Douglas and sat down, silence once again settling over the library, with Eunice not saying another word as she considered her father.
That she didn’t appear distressed lent credence to the fact she was a woman possessed of a strength not many people had, especially after dealing with so many revelations in a short period of time.
There was no question left in Arthur’s mind that Eunice was an exceptional lady, an incomparable in her own right, and that he’d overlooked that years before because of a nonsensical plan on his part left him filled with a renewed sense of regret.
It had taken him far too long to realize he would have never been happy living his life in the midst of society with a proper, demure, and well-connected lady.
He didn’t want demure, proper, and well-connected.
He wanted direct, temperamental, romantic at heart, and independent.
In other words, he wanted Eunice.
How he was going to convince her that she wanted him in return was a bit of a mystery, but ... she had kissed him on his cheek the day before, which seemed to suggest she was at least a little fond of him.
“Forgive me,” Douglas said to Eunice, pulling Arthur back to the odd situation at hand. “But I’ve just realized I don’t even know your name.”
“This should be an interesting conversation,” Hazel said, speaking up from where she was sitting beside Lloyd on a settee. “One doesn’t usually get to meet a daughter one didn’t know about in the first place, but it’ll get even more unusual once Eunice starts trying to explain why she has so many names.”
“You have more than one name?” Douglas asked.
“My birth name is Eugenia Sunshine Howland, but I prefer being addressed as Eunice these days.”
Douglas blinked. “Georgette named you Eugenia?”
“I know, I know, it’s an awful name,” Georgette said, dashing back into the music room and waving a letter Douglas’s way. “I found it.”
Arthur slid a chair next to the one Eunice was sitting in, and after giving him a smile of thanks, Georgette plopped down on it, thrusting the letter she was holding into Douglas’s hand. “There it is—proof that I did, indeed, receive a letter from you.” She shoved a strand of blond hair that had escaped its pins out of her face. “I kept it in an old jewelry box that I found stashed in the back of my wardrobe. The jewelry I left here is missing, but this was still hidden underneath the lining.” She quirked a brow Raymond’s way. “Would you happen to know where my jewelry went?”
“Given that Clarice is currently wearing one of your necklaces, dear,” Aunt Hazel said before Raymond could respond, “I think it’s safe to say your jewelry stayed in the family.”
“I’ll expect all of my pieces to be returned” was all Georgette said before she turned back to Douglas, nodding to the letter in his hand. “Well, aren’t you going to read it, or don’t you need to refresh your memory because you remember what you wrote to me?”
“I didn’t write this,” Douglas countered, “and I will read it in a minute, but I’m in the middle of being introduced to my daughter. We’ve only gotten around to her name so far, but I have to say that Eugenia was an interesting choice. I thought we agreed if we ever had a daughter she’d be named Sophia because you adored that name.”
“And I still do adore that name and was considering choosing it for her middle name, but then decided that was a horrible choice because it would be another reminder of you, the man who’d told me he loved me but then abandoned me.”
“I didn’t abandon you.”
She waved that aside. “That remains to be seen. But returning to Eugenia, she goes by Eunice now, if she hasn’t mentioned that—a name I always associated with a woman who is most likely surrounded by cats and lives a dull and uneventful life.”
Douglas glanced to Eunice. “You don’t strike me as a woman who surrounds herself with cats.”
“Cats make me sneeze.”
