His face lit up. “Rather more than Paris. The world is here. It is well that town is not so full of company this time of year, as I have more invitations than I can possibly accept.”
A young, personable, and abundantly eligible duke? He must be the hope of every hostess. “You enjoy the social crush!”
“And you do not. When mourning ended, I looked for you. We met at Danbury’s ball several years ago, don’t you recall? Your mother seemed keen for you to pay attention to some viscount with no taste in waistcoats but famously well off.”
The memory flickered to life, Phillip approaching eagerly, her mother bustling Maddy off on her latest scheme. She had defied them that time. She had defied them until they had let her alone. “I do remember! I can’t recall the viscount, however.” Aside from the alarm that had flooded her when the man had tried to touch her.
“Singleton. You were well to avoid him, I think. You deserved better.”
He means it.She wondered how much he realized about his father’s abuse.
“But I continued to watch for a few seasons. You didn’t come.” His words had a note of sadness.
“I love my cottage, my flowers, and the country.”
The idea appeared to puzzle him; he didn’t respond.No country squire, this one.
“You will be in want of a wife, I suspect. You best find one who will enjoy the crush as much as you do.” She sipped her tea with a teasing grin.
To her delight, his face lit up. “I have found one, a marvelous creature who sparkles in company and shines in private, a lovely lady. I mean to approach her father soon.”
“I hope you found one who returns your regard and holds you in affection as well. Of course, any lady would be honored.”Her father will snatch up a connection to a duke.
He put down his cup and leaned toward her earnestly. “Father might not have approved. Her mother is a banker’s daughter.” He said it as if it were a disease, but he meant, of course, she had connections beneath his in rank.
“He isn’t here, Phillip. What matters is whatyouwant. A lifetime is a long commitment.”
“Your approval gratifies, Madelyn. I think you would like Eloisa, different though the two of you are. Her other grandfather is a duke. Can you imagine such a thing?”
What was there to say to that? He sat silently for a moment, and Maddy realized he grasped his hands together, laden though they were with multiple rings.
“Phillip, why have you come? My brother tells me you have a family matter about which you wish to speak with me.”
His hands relaxed in his lap. “Clarion graciously…”
She raised an eyebrow. David didn’t decide when she spoke and with whom.
“That is, I’m glad you sent word I could call on you.” He sighed and straightened, determined to get to the point. “A man came to see me, a Mr. Isaiah Jessop. From Charleston in the United States.” He watched her with hooded eyes.
Jessop.Gideon’s name. Randolph Tavernash’s hated voice floated through her.What do you expect from a half-wit colonial? “What did he want?”
“He claimed to be Gideon’s uncle. Rude fellow. No manners. He looked me over in the most impertinent manner and demanded to know my age.”
Maddy swallowed, or attempted to. Her mouth had gone dry. Secrets long buried and the image of Gideon Jessop’s face threatened to choke her.
“Your father always claimed all Americans were uncivilized,” she murmured to deflect the alarm vibrating through her.
Gideon was several years older than Phillip. He was twenty-one when she had met him. Randolph Tavernash, the previous duke—her husband—had told her he had come to Woodglen from Charleston when his mother had died, making no effort to hide the fact that Gideon was his by-blow. He’d been born with a twisted spine and a leg shorter than the other, but he had Randolph’s eyes.Silent. Sullen. Angry.
“Jessop demanded to see Gideon,” Phillip said, his placid expression breaking into anxiety. “He called him the duke, Madelyn.”
She inhaled deeply. Phillip couldn’t possibly know about the letter she had found in the secret compartment in Randolph’s desk. She had never questioned Gideon’s illegitimacy until then. She couldn’t be entirely sure about it now, but Phillip didn’t need to know that.
She’d learned to search the desk in order to be forewarned about her husband’s plans. She’d stumbled on the compartment and found his more disreputable business dealings. And a letter informing Randolph that his American wife had died. Wife! The information would have upended Phillip’s life. It still could.
“Gideon is dead.” He said it emphatically, but the agony in his eyes revealed both grief that it was true and, perhaps, fear that it was not. “He is, isn’t he? I told Jessop he’d been sent away and he died. He demanded to know where, but I don’t know. I never did.”
“Yes. Gideon died after your father sent him away.”But before I found the damnable letter. Hiding it could do him no harm. He was dead.
