Pages of his uncle’s journals were filled with how much he admired Miss Angela Stone, but she did not see him. Only his brother. So when she’d come to him, frightened for her future and fearful of Algenon’s grandfather’s disbelief or wrath, David had married her.
Algenon picked up his mother’s gold opal ring and slipped it on his pinky. All these years, his uncle had been frightened that someone would find out and he’d not have an heir. No wonder he’d been consumed with having a second son.
First son, Algenon amended.
He was not Lord David Roberts’s son. He was the illegitimate child of Mr. Solomon Roberts. The thought made him sick.
Even worse, Lord Falcross knew, thanks to Lord Roberts getting too deep into his cups while playing cards. Cards always had been his fa—uncle’s downfall.
What now?
According to his uncle’s journals, Lord Falcross had brokered a deal. Algenon would marry his disgraced daughter, and Phillipa would marry Lord Rupert in exchange for his silence.
Phillipa, he could understand. She was pretty and had a decent dowry, but why him? He was a nobody. A risk to Lord Falcross.
He slipped on his two other gold rings and looked at himself in the mirror. The same face with hazel eyes and a sharp jaw stared back. Only now, it felt foreign. Who was he without the title he’d now inherited?
Then his eyes widened, and a bitter tang sat on his tongue. That was it. Lord Falcross wanted his title. He could controlhim with such a secret, determine how he voted in the House of Lords, who he entertained, even how he spent the ample wealth he and his father had amassed. He would simply be a pawn to him.
His jaw tightened and his fingers curled. Algenon had been a pawn his whole life. A placeholder for the son his uncle wished to have. Would he spend the rest of his life being someone else’s plaything?
He hung his head. What else could he do? If he told the world the truth, he’d have nothing. Not even the cottage left to him by his mother’s father. Only legitimate heirs could inherit. As far as the world knew, he was Lord Roberts’s son, and he would go on acting as such.
A knock on his bedroom door announced the arrival of the footman who would carry his trunks to the coach. He bid them enter and left them to their work.
Lady Roberts had not fared well after his uncle’s death, looking far more ill than she had in the weeks before. This morning at breakfast he’d asked to send for the doctor, as he had for days, but she’d insisted again that she’d wait to see their physician in the country.
Her reality had been shattered. He could not blame her for wanting to wait until she could see someone she was comfortable with.
His heart stuttered. He wanted to see someone who comforted him as well. But would she want to see him? He’d ruined everything. Actually, everything had been ruined since the moment of his birth.
However much it hurt, he would tell Javenia the truth. She deserved to know why he could not offer for her and why he was bound to the contract Lord Falcross had drawn up with his father. His sisters’ futures hung in the balance. Without him,who would the title fall to? He didn’t even know. The next man could be even more terrible than Falcross.
But what of Phillipa? How could he ask her to face such a fate?
He couldn’t. So he prayed his sacrifice would be enough.
Chapter 26
Javenia sat in Hazelwood’s small sitting room, her list in hand. Someday, she hoped the memories connected to it would not haunt her like they did now. Maybe she’d be able to smile about the slip on her chair that had made her grab Algenon’s leg, or perhaps she’d laugh at his stunned expression when she’d flirted with him for the first time.
Right now, however, she hurt. If only she’d not tricked him into ruin. If only she’d been patient and upfront about her feelings. If only—
She stopped herself. The last fortnight had been filled withif onlys. The Roberts’s coach had arrived at Blackthorn a sennight ago and she’d still not seen Algenon. Then again, they had been in the midst of the Christmastide celebrations.
Hazelwood hadn’t felt like Christmas, though. There had been little more than a large dinner. No one had exchanged any gifts, no Christmas carols had been sung, and no one had visited—and it was all her fault.
Her downfall would implicate all her sisters. Their honor and virtue would be questioned. She’d not just hurt Algenon, she’d damaged her sisters’ chances at making good matches.
She crumpled the list in her hands.
“Stupid, stupid Javenia,” she muttered to herself.
“You were desperate, not stupid.”
Her mother’s voice startled her, and she spun in her seat. Mama looked at her with such sadness, her hand resting on the handle of the open door. Javenia wanted to dig a hole for herself and crawl into it, never to pain her parents again.
“I was stupidly desperate, then.”
