by Cheryl Holt
While she’d loathed her husband, she was enjoying her role as grieving widow. It made her a national icon in her own right, and she wouldn’t have that lofty status jeopardized.
“You’ll need to ride to Selby this week then,” she said. “You have to find out what his testimony will be. You can’t assume he’ll behave as you wish. You’re aware of what he’s like.”
“It will be fine. As you mentioned, he loved Sir Sidney. He would never imperil Father’s legacy.”
“I shall tell myself you’re correct.”
They were in her London house, having tea in the parlor. She’d been out running errands, and just as she’d returned, Sebastian had popped in without warning, which was pleasant. For the most part, he was a dutiful son, possessed of all his father’s stellar traits, but few of his revolting ones. She was always glad to see him.
He was staying at their country estate, Hero’s Haven, and it was his now that he’d inherited. The men of Sir Sidney’s expedition team were all staying there too, and they were engaged in an unending bacchanal. But he was thirty—an adult male with his own fortune—and it probably wasn’t any of her business if he was hosting an orgy.
Generally, she never went to the Haven. Over the years, Sir Sidney had used it as his den of iniquity, so she’d been happy to avoid it. As with so many issues surrounding her husband, it was better not to delve into his leisure activities. It was her habit to tarry in London, and it was more convenient for her socializing anyway.
“May I ask you a question?” Sebastian said.
“Certainly.”
“Have you ever heard any stories about Father and perhaps…ah…”
His voice trailed off. They never discussed Sir Sidney in any genuine fashion. Their remarks floated on the surface where they were safest. Why dig into a hole that should remain filled?
He walked over to the sideboard to splash whiskey into his tea. He was very blatant about it.
“You’re drinking too much,” she complained, before she could bite her tongue.
“Yes, I am, but I’m still rattled by the catastrophe. It will pass.” He toasted her with his cup. “It already is. I’m improving by the day.”
She studied him, thinking he didn’t look as if he’d improved. He looked sad and beaten down from his mourning Sir Sidney’s death. Despite Sir Sidney being a failure as a husband, he’d been a wonderful father. It would be difficult for her son to move beyond such a gripping loss.
She wasn’t the most maternal person though, so she had no idea how to comfort him. Nor would she toss out clichés. She shifted the conversation to more mundane topics.
“We shouldn’t give credence to any stories swirling about your father,” she said. “The lower classes like to gossip. Let’s not join in.”
“It’s just that…well…occasionally, powerful men have secrets.”
“Yes, they do, and Sir Sidney had many of them. Don’t pretend to be surprised.”
“Rich men have affairs. They have mistresses and sire illicit children.”
For a moment, her pulse raced. She realized what he was suggesting, and her stern glare advised him to drop it. She would not parlay over Sir Sidney’s penchant for trollops. He’d been content to dally with any tart—mostly actresses and opera dancers—who’d evinced the slightest interest.
None of it was a mystery to her. As the wife of the wealthy, notorious hero, she’d had many envious acquaintances. They’d all taken great delight in ensuring she was apprised of all the sordid rumors, but through every horrid fling—whether fleeting or lengthy—she’d insisted they weren’t occurring.
Of course she hadn’t always been able to wear blinders. Sir Sidney had spent most of their marriage out of the country, flitting home for brief respites, then flitting off again the minute his wanderlust struck. She had been forced to clean up his messes.
She’d paid for funerals of slatterns who had died birthing his bastards. She’d forked over money to women he’d left in the lurch. She’d succumbed to blackmail to silence harlots. And that didn’t begin to describe the urchins who’d been brought to her door by idiotic guardians, vicars, or orphanage owners who’d presumed she would be thrilled to welcome them.
She had a method for dealing with his natural children. A clandestine associate sold them into indenture for her, so they were placed in service and whisked out of the country. It was a quiet and swift system guaranteed to hide a scandal, and while some people might have judged such conduct to be heartless and cruel, she declined to see it that way.
She wasn’t about to support his bastards, but they couldn’t be permitted to starve on the streets. That would be cruel. She helped them by sending them off to learn a trade and start a new life. It was the perfect ending for all concerned, and she never regretted the role she played in it.
“I’m too bereft to keep talking about your father,” she blandly said. “I’d like to address a happier subject.”
“Is there a happier subject these days?”
“Yes. I’ve invited Veronica to stay with me.”
Their cousin, Veronica, was the bride Gertrude had picked for him, and he scowled. “I wish you’d asked me first.”
“Why would I? You’d have simply refused my request.”
“I’m not ready to think about matrimony. I can’t think about it right now.”
“No bachelor is ever ready.”
“With the inquest approaching, I won’t have time to dance attendance on her.”
“She recognizes that you’re busy, but after the inquest is over, I will expect that situation to change. We have to proceed to a betrothal.”
Although he’d never been officially promised to Veronica, the family had an understanding about it. Veronica was twenty, and she had been waiting for four years for him to propose. She and her mother were beginning to protest the delay.
They were worried Veronica would become a spinster, and it was a conclusion Gertrude would never tolerate. Too much freedom put a fellow on a bad path, and Sebastian had to wed. He shouldn’t continue to wallow in sin.
“Could we discuss this later?” He sounded irked.
“We don’t have to discuss it at all. I merely need your assurance that we will get this arranged.”
She’d aggravated him, and he downed his beverage and headed for the door.
“I have to be going,” he said. “I have chores at home.”
“After you visit Nathan, please stop by to confirm that his testimony is settled.”
“I will.”
He stomped out, and she sighed with exasperation.
He had no secrets from her. He was grieving—and drinking heavily in order to smooth over his woe. She despised weakness in a man. For goodness sake, he was Sir Sidney’s son. He had to buck up and act the part.
* * * *
“I’m so glad you’re here!”
“I doubted your mother would ever invite me.”
Ophelia smiled at Veronica. They were cousins, but old friends too, having been students at the same boarding school when they were girls. She was twenty-two and Veronica was twenty, both of them on the verge of being declared spinsters. Ophelia was unmarried by choice, but for Veronica, it was due to Sebastian’s dithering.
In the past, Ophelia had had numerous swains, but she hadn’t been interested in romance. She liked her status as Sir Sidney’s daughter, and if she shackled herself to a husband, she’d become a boring, ordinary wife.
She also truly believed—if she remained single—she would eventually be allowed to accompany her father and brother on an expedition.
A husband wouldn’t permit it. He’d demand she dawdle at home and knit by the fire, but she was possessed of all her brother’s wanderlust. She couldn’t imagine wiling away the decades in London when she ought to have been adventuring with the men in her family.
Her brother had initially joined their father when he was ten, and he was famous and acclaimed because of it. Why shouldn’t Ophelia be granted
the same chance? Why should her being a female matter?
Sir Sidney had never viewed it that way. She’d once broached the topic with him, and he’d nearly had an apoplexy. He was dead though, so he wasn’t around to prevent it, and the minute she could, she would speak to Sebastian. She was positive he’d agree to let her tag along on his next trip.
“How is Sebastian?” Veronica asked.
“He’s been tucked away at Hero’s Haven. The inquest is coming, so he’s been preparing for it.”
“Will there be questions raised?” There was unease in Veronica’s tone.
“Well, it is an inquest, so there will be all sorts of questions raised, but he wants to fully address everyone’s concerns.”
She stated the remark confidently, but she wasn’t completely sure of what had transpired in Africa. The servants were whispering that there were issues surrounding the calamity that couldn’t be mentioned aloud. What might they be?
Ophelia had hardly known her father. He’d traveled constantly, so he’d rarely been in England, and when he had been, she’d usually been at school. She was a lowly daughter, so she’d never been summoned to see him. Their sporadic encounters had occurred when she was home and he happened to be there too.
But still, he was her father, and she would hate for gossip to waft out. Not that there would be a reason for it to spread. In her eyes, he’d been perfect.
They were upstairs in a guestroom in her mother’s London house, with Veronica having just arrived from the country. Ophelia had been instrumental in convincing Gertrude that Veronica needed to be in London. It was a terrible situation for a girl to be out of sight and out of mind. When Sebastian never socialized with her, he likely never thought about her.
Veronica had to be pushed into his path on every occasion they could manage.
Ultimately, Veronica would move from being her cousin to being her sister, and she couldn’t wait for the wedding. She was the shining star that would bring it all to fruition and make her dear friend and wonderful brother happy forever.
“Shall we go down and say hello to Mother?” she asked. “She must have returned from her errands.”
“I’m too tired from my journey. May I have an hour to freshen up?”
“Certainly.”
Ophelia sauntered out, leaving Veronica to her servants and the unpacking of her trunks. From her huge pile of luggage, it was obvious she wasn’t planning to depart London anytime soon.
Ophelia wandered through the large mansion. Typically, the halls were quiet, and she was used to it, but recently, all that silence had begun to grate. She kept telling herself it was due to her advanced age of twenty-two, as well as the fact that she hadn’t wed as was the appropriate ending for a female.
She’d chosen to stay with her mother, fervidly and pointlessly hoping an exciting event would arise, but nothing ever did.
She reached the foyer, and her mother was in the receiving parlor, chatting with someone. When she recognized it to be Sebastian, she grinned. She hadn’t realized he was in town. She nearly rushed into the room, but she was halted by the serious tone in his voice.
Have you ever heard any stories about Father and…perhaps…ah…
Her mother cut him off, her tone just as serious. We shouldn’t give credence to any stories swirling about your father. The lower classes like to gossip. Let’s not join in.
Then Sebastian added the most vexing comment ever. Rich men have affairs. They have mistresses and sire illicit children.
Ophelia felt as if her heart might quit beating. She skittered away in the opposite direction, and she hurried down the hall to an empty salon where she could hide and compose herself.
What had Sebastian meant? Clearly, he was hinting at reprehensible conduct by Sir Sidney, and at the prospect, she was absolutely aghast. Sir Sidney was proclaimed across the land as the epitome of British values and morals. He was considered a beacon of honor, decency, and all that was good in the world.
What if he wasn’t? Should she have questioned a few details? Should she have been a tad less naïve?
Shortly, Sebastian exited the parlor and left the house. She hovered, wondering if she should chase after him, or if she should let him flee in peace, but she couldn’t imagine doing that.
She had minimal opportunities to ever speak to him, and with his locking himself away at Hero’s Haven, and his unruly crew being in residence, the intervals where she saw him were so infrequent as to be nonexistent.
Who could predict when he’d stop by again?
Besides, she had to ask him about the morning papers. If he’d been riding into town, she didn’t suppose he’d have been apprised of the latest news.
She hastened down the hall and outside, catching him as he was about to climb into his carriage.
She waved and called out, “Brother! Hello!”
He turned toward her and smiled. He was so handsome, like a Greek god painted in a mural, and he was courteous to her in a way her father had never been.
She walked over to him. “You rat! How could you visit Mother, but completely ignore me in the process?”
“I just flitted in for a minute. I have to get going.” He gestured to the vehicle, as if she hadn’t noticed his driver was in the box or his servant was holding the door. “Did you need something?”
“Have you read the morning paper?”
“No. I’m not in the habit of reading it. You know that.”
She didn’t actually, but she didn’t say so. She knew so little about him! “So you haven’t heard.”
“Heard what?”
“Nathan has married.”
Her brother flinched as if she’d punched him. “He what?”
“There was an announcement. He was wed a couple of weeks ago—by Special License at Selby.”
“To who?”
“Miss Nell Drummond? I have no idea who she is. How about you?”
“No.” He frowned. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes, but I can show it to you if you’d like.”
“I’m not doubting you. I’m just…shocked.”
“And hurt too?”
“Yes, hurt. I admit it.”
“He’s always been selfish. I’m not surprised he’d treat you so badly, but he should be ashamed of himself.”
“Yes, shame on him.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Why would you be sorry?”
“I can’t guess what happened between the two of you, and I won’t inquire, but he should have told you about his wedding. You should have stood up with him at the ceremony. At the very least you should have been invited. It’s cruel of him that you weren’t.”
“I agree.” He stared off to the horizon, as if he could see Selby from where they were standing. “He’s changed since we were in Africa. Maybe we’re not friends anymore. Maybe I should get over it.”
“Of course you’re friends,” she staunchly declared. “You always will be. You’ll eventually fix what’s wrong.”
He snorted. “Some quarrels are too difficult to mend.”
“Not this one. I’m certain of it.”
“You’re an optimist.”
She pointed to the house. “Veronica has arrived. Would you like to come in for a bit?”
If she hadn’t been watching him so closely, she wouldn’t have noted the grimace of distaste that crossed his features. What did it indicate? Didn’t he like Veronica? She refused to accept that could be it.
Veronica was the prettiest, most elegant girl in the kingdom, and she would soon be his wife. He had to like her. He was probably just irked over being delayed.
“I don’t have time to chat with her,” he claimed.
“I understand.” Normally, she wouldn’t have pestered him further, but she was feeling confounded by many issues. Dare she proceed?
“Could I talk to you about another matter?” she said.
“If you can promise to hurry. It likely seems as if I’m ignoring you, b
ut I really am busy.”
“It’s rather…ah…private. Could we discuss it in the carriage?”
“Yes.” He helped her in, then climbed in after her and shut the door. Once they were sequestered, he said, “What is it? Please assure me it’s nothing horrid. I’m so overwhelmed these days that I can hardly think straight.”
“It’s not horrid. No, I take that back. I don’t know if it’s horrid or not. It’s just that I heard you with Mother. I didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but I walked up to the parlor as you mentioned Father.”
“Oh.”
“I was curious about your comments.”
“Yes…?” he pressed when she didn’t continue.
Gad, it was so embarrassing to spit it out! She leaned nearer and lowered her voice. “Did Father have a mistress? Did he have other…other…children besides us?”
Sebastian studied her forever, then asked, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Then you’re no longer fresh out of the schoolroom, so I’ll answer you as if you’re an adult who can bear the truth.”
“Just tell me. I’m always kept in the dark.”
“Father wasn’t the man you assumed him to be.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning he had affairs, and yes, he had other children.”
She gasped. “How many?”
“Two that I’m aware of.”
“Two! How many might there be?”
“I couldn’t guess.”
“Where are the two you’re aware of?”
“Here in London.”
“Have you met them?”
“Yes.”
“What are their names?”
“Noah and Petunia, and she’s called Pet for short. He’s twelve and she’s six.”
“My goodness. Does Mother know?”
“I’m betting she does. I doubt she could have been married to Father for so many years without having a clue as to his penchant for vice and fast living.”
“When you traveled with him, you witnessed that kind of behavior?”
“Yes.”
She felt as if she’d been sitting in a theater and the curtain had suddenly been raised to expose a hidden world. Her beloved, adored Sir Sidney had been a libertine? He’d had mistresses and had sired bastards? What was she to think of such an astonishing turn of events?
