Henry’s admission did not soften the young man as Susannah had hoped. Instead, there was a sneer on his face.
“Yes, you always were about the law when it came to children and whom they belonged to.”
The secretary came out of the doorway and stood, waiting.Henry offered Susannah his arm, and she took it. His forearm was rigid, trembling.
“Will we all go in?” he said in his clear, precise, chilly voice.
No, Susannah wanted to shout as they walked to the brown drawing room.Embrace him. Speak to him as you speak to me. Or as you speak to Mina. Even talking to him as if he were a child would be better than this terrible formality.
After he was introduced to the marchioness, Mr. Crompton went into his satchel. “I have the will here?—”
“We all have the will,” said the marchioness. “A piece of feckless stupidity wrapped up in gross idiocy. Is it your work?”
Mr. Crompton quailed visibly under the marchioness’ contempt. “I, uh, I should . . . I realize, that is?—”
“You will not attack my solicitor, Lady Chalfont,” Charles said.
What a brave young man.
Charles faced Henry. “You have conceded my right. The issue is clear enough. Bring my niece to me now.”
“She is not a thing to be given.”
“I did not say she was.”
A crack in Henry’s ice. “I beg you to think of the child.”
“I am thinking of the child.”
“You are not.”
Charles pressed his lips together. “And you are? You have never given a thought to anyone besides yourself.”
Susannah made an involuntary movement, wanted to speak, defend her Henry, but she silenced herself.
And she was glad she did because Henry said, “I made many, many errors. But I thought of you. I always thought of you. I think of you.”
Yes, Henry, yes. Tell him how you love him.
Charles just shook his head.
“He deserves to know,” the marchioness said to Henry.
It was a point of agreement between Susannah and the marchioness, but earlier Henry had refused.
Please speak of it now. Of Diana and her perfidy.
“What?” Charles said. His hands clenched at his sides. “That I am not your son? I already know that. Mother told me.”
Henry looked at Susannah and the marchioness and back to Charles. “You are my son.”
“By law, yes. Not by blood.”
“No—”
“This is nonsense.” The marchioness’s walking stick thudded on the carpet.
“You are my son,” Henry said again, his voice deeper and stronger. “Your mother told you lies.”
