“Where?” she asked over him. “Might I see her?”
The Duke’s eyes flashed anger at being spoken over. “We will get to the child in a moment. First, you are to tell me who you are and what you mean by coming here.” He looked at her. “Speak.”
Ophelia started at the tone of his voice. “I… my name is Ophelia Turner, the daughter of –” She caught her tongue quickly.No, Ophelia, that is not what matters.“I was a lady’s maid for Lady Louisa Rowely, the Countess of Delacourt. For three years I worked for her, and her husband, the Earl of Delacourt.”
“And the child?”
She blinked at him. “The child is yours, Your Grace. That is what I was told.”
His eyes narrowed. “She certainly is not.”
“I…” Ophelia hesitated. “I can only tell you what I have been told.”
“I would know if I had a child,” he said darkly. “Or are you accusing me of being a liar? Or something worse than that?”
“I would never do such a thing, Your Grace. Again, I can only tell you what I have been told.” She looked up at him innocently, doing her best to dispel the anger and the hostility that the Duke seemed so intent on filling the room with.
It did not work.
“You will start at the beginning,” he said sharply. “Why do you believe this child to be mine? And I must warn you, Miss Ophelia, I am in no mood to be lied to.”
“I do not lie,” she said.
“We will see about that.”
“The beginning…” She took a deep breath to calm her shaking nerves. “As I said, I have worked for Lady Delacourt for three years. Recently, she was expecting, which itself should have been a blessing, only…” She hesitated, feeling somewhat guilty about what she had to say next.
Is it an accusation if it is true? I do not want to disparage Lady Delacourt’s good name…
“Only what?” the Duke demanded of her. “I suggest you speak quickly, Miss Ophelia.”
“Lord and Lady Delacourt were happy, of that there is no doubt. But I do not believe their marriage was a love match. In fact, I had good reason to believe that Lady Delacourt was having…” She grimaced and looked away with shame. “She was having an affair. At least that is what Lord Delacourt accused her of. I do not know who with or for how long, but he was insistent that the child could not be his.”
“And what did Lady Delacourt say?”
“She died in childbirth, Your Grace…” Ophelia sniffed back tears. She might have been a maid, but she and Lady Delacourt were close, and Ophelia would miss her greatly. “She was able to name the child before passing away, just as she was able to ask me for a favor…” She forced herself to look at the Duke, who continued to scowl. “She made me promise to bring the child to you, Your Grace. She did not give a reason, but the implication was…” She grimaced.
“Was what?” he said through gritted teeth.
“I believe the child to be yours, Your Grace,” she admitted. “That she wanted Harriet to be with her father.”
It was a reasonable enough assumption. And so sure of this was Ophelia that she did not think about questioning Lady Delacourt’s decision. Of course, when Lady Delacourt made Ophelia promise to deliver Harriet to the Duke, she had lost a lot of blood, she had been fading quickly, and she’d barely managed to get the request out before passing away.
“Lord Delacourt was furious about the child,” she continued. “If it had remained with him, I have no doubt he would have sent her away. He swore the child was not his, Your Grace. He swore it.”
“Nor is it mine,” he snarled angrily. “I have never met this Lady Delacourt, and the name hardly calls any recognition at all. This is…” He was shaking with anger. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “I swear it.”
“You are lying to me,” he snapped at her. “I would not bed a married woman. And I would never have a child out of wedlock. There is something you are not telling me.”
He towered over her like a mountain attempting to blot out the sun. His voice was sharp and harsh, paired with a low growl like a wolf cornering its prey. And the glare he fixed her in was so angry that Ophelia felt herself leaning back as if worried he might suddenly pounce and tear out her throat.
“I promise you, Your Grace, I have told you everything,” she spoke as calmly as she could. “Lady Delacourt pleaded for me to bring you her child, and I could only assume the reason. Are you sure you do not know her?”
“Of course I am sure!” he barked.
“Please, Your Grace, I am only trying to help. And to be honest, you are being rather rude.”
