Page 7

Charles hid the sigh that threatened and allowed himself to be escorted. His father stood by the blazing fire that did its best to drive out the chill, waiting. Tall, imposing, still handsome, the first Earl Grey looked every inch the aristocrat, the politician; the wronged parent.

‘You made it.’

Charles nodded, not rising to the jibe. He knew well enough that he should have come sooner. He was honest enough to admit to himself that he’d not been able to face it. However, that didn’t make the meeting any easier.

Before he could say more, the door opened and his mother came into the room and walked over to where he stood. She gave him her hand and raised her cheek for his dutiful kiss.

‘Mama, how are you?’

‘Well, darling. You?’

‘Very well.’

An awkward silence followed as his mother made her way to sit by the fireside. His father followed suit, so Charles joined them. The three of them sat in uncomfortable silence until he could bear it no longer.

‘How is the child?’

His father sniffed and arched an eyebrow at him. ‘She is well.’

‘I should thank you again for taking her in.’

‘Indeed, you should.’

Charles looked at the floor and tried to remind himself he was a successful man in his own right, not a grubby schoolboy. He looked at his mother but saw little sympathy there. She had been forced to travel away from home for months to preserve the lie that she had given birth to a late, unexpected child in France. When, in fact, she and his father had taken on his child. His and Georgiana’s. He would have given all he had to marry her, to bring the child up with her, but Georgiana was already married. And that was that.

His heart clenched in his chest at the thought of his Georgiana and how desperately he missed her, but he needed to do what was right.

He took a breath. ‘May I see her?’

‘She’s sleeping,’ his mother said.

‘I won’t wake her. I’d just like to… see her.’ He swallowed the emotion that threatened to swamp him. Choked down the need to demand that he be taken to see his own daughter immediately. He’d given up all of those rights.

‘We have guests this weekend,’ his father said, changing the subject.

Charles baulked at that. He wasn’t anywhere near in the mood for company. He shook his head. ‘I’m not sure how long I can stay.’

‘Perhaps you can see your daughter after the guests leave.’ His father’s expression was implacable. Immovable. One he’d seen before, and one he knew there was no point arguing with. That appeared to be the deal. Attend whatever awful event they had planned in return for seeing his child.

‘Of course,’ he murmured.

‘The Ponsonby family will join us.’

Charles’s heart sank. His parents had recently dropped several excessively unsubtle hints that Mary Ponsonby would be a perfect match for him. He liked Mary well enough, but how could he marry her when it was Georgiana he held in his heart? When their child, the result of their love, of their union, lay in the nursery?

‘It will be good to see them.’

‘Their daughter, Mary, will join us too. Perhaps once an announcement is public, you will spend some time with your… youngest sister.’

Silence followed. Charles’s head was spinning. So that was it. That was the price. They would take Eliza and care for her as long as he did as his father wanted. As long as he married Mary Ponsonby. His heart squeezed in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

‘It’s rather soon for an announcement.’

‘Not at all. If we announce it now, it can be a spring wedding,’ his mother said, chin in the air, hands on her lap. ‘I’m minded to arrange the wedding for May.’

Charles looked at his mother and tried not to be hurt by her complicity with his father’s plans. He supposed he deserved it.

‘If we make the announcement this week, might I see my daughter now?’