Swift’s freckles stood out against her pale skin, but she came forward with her head held high. “Yes, my lady.”
“That’s Swift,” Mina announced.
“Swift,” the marchioness said. The stick pointed at Charles. “You know Lord Delamere, eh?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“And you’ve been corresponding with him.”
“This is outrageous,” Charles sputtered. “And not relevant to the matter at hand.”
Henry turned to Swift. “Is it true? Have you been writing to my son?”
“Her real name is Quick,” the marchioness said.
Charles put his shoulders back, moved in front of the nursemaid as if to protect her. “Yes, she wrote me letters.”
“I don’t understand,” Henry said slowly. “How?—”
“I was high in the Alps when word reached me of Hal’s death. Many weeks had already passed. I crossed the Channel to get Mina and was told you had already taken her from the foundling hospital and that I was too young to be executor, tobecome her guardian. You were my guardian and, thus, had become hers. I hired a clever young woman and told her to come to Bledsoe Park and apply for a position as a nursemaid. She was to watch over Mina and tell me how she was treated in this house. Of course, I wanted to make sure my niece did not suffer. I may have not been able to claim her until now, but I did not abandon her.”
The marchioness squinted. “And did Quick ever write of any wrongdoing here? Did she ever report Lord Ashthorpe had spoken cruelly to Mina? Struck her?”
“No,” said Charles, lifting his chin.
“Let me hear from Quick,” the marchioness said.
The nursemaid stepped around Charles and said in a quiet, clear voice, “I wrote to Lord Delamere that the child was well cared for. And that the affinity and affection between Miss Mina and Lord Ashthorpe seemed as true and strong as any I have ever seen.”
“And yet you would take her, Charles?” the marchioness asked. “When everything points?—”
Henry spoke very loudly. “It was well done, Charles. It was very well done. I’m proud you did that. It was the action of an honorable man.”
Susannah’s heart almost burst from her chest.
Oh, love. How I love you.
Twenty-One
“. . . and if I am the man who uses it and doesn’t know about it, the answer is this.” Her king used one finger to tap between the concubine’s brows. “Because I will forever rely on your wits, but I will never know all the corners of your prodigious mind.”
—The Concubine and Her King.Unpublished MS.
Henry saw Charles’ face change. His son might have reached his majority, but he was still Henry’s little boy, and Henry knew what that tremble in his lower lip meant. Tears were close.
His son needed him, only him, and Mina went willingly into Susannah’s arms when Henry gave her to Susannah.
He said to Charles, “A word.”
His peremptory tone did not sit well with Charles, made his son’s anger rise to the top and overtake those tears.
“My lord,” Charles said.
Henry gestured to the door, and he and Charles left theroom. He could hear the marchioness thump her stick in frustration.
“Where are they going?” she said. “I want?—”
Henry closed the drawing room door on the marchioness’ demands. Her wants didn’t matter. If Charles needed to cry, he could damn well cry. But Henry remembered what a young man wanted more than anything. Dignity and respect.
