by Rhianna
Henry shook his head and appeared to glance around him before speaking further. When he did, his voice was low and guarded.
“Lord Desmond Kingsley has gone out and Lady Kingsley was … er … dismissed from him.”
With this last, Henry rendered their small circle speechless. The Kingsleys’ marriage was not a close one, to be sure, but would Guilford dismiss his wife from his bedside at such an hour?
Looking as if he had said too much, Henry immediately invited Rhianna to follow him directly to Guilford Kingsley.
“Lord Brighton, may I offer you the comfort of the drawing room? Undoubtedly, Dr. Logan, Mr. Weathersby, and Miss Kingsley will join you there momentarily.”
“Not at all, Henry. I will have to insist on joining you in escorting my fiancée to Lord Kingsley’s chambers. If it is his desire to speak privately with Miss Braden at that point, he may do so.”
Henry’s eyebrows rose infinitesimally, but he said nothing. He nodded his assent and hastily led them upstairs. There, a group of servants were gathered in the hall outside Guilford’s bedroom, whispering and waiting for news. Undeniably, they were aware he was asking for Rhianna and they eyed her curiously.
Henry knocked on the door and entered. “Miss Braden and Lord Brighton,” he announced.
Henry stepped to the side and Thayne followed Rhianna into the room. The door was closed behind them.
The atmosphere was grim. Guilford lay in a large, white bed that made him look small in comparison, pillows propping his shoulders at a slight incline. His face was ashen and his body frail. Beside him, Dr. Logan and Weathersby spoke in hushed, somber tones.
Audra, kneeling beside the bed, raised her red, swollen eyes to them, leaving a stain of tears on her father’s sheets. At the sight of Rhianna, she ran to her and buried her face in the folds of her governess’s skirt, her sobs so weakened from the extended strain she made no sound. Rhianna’s arms swiftly enfolded her, her fingers stroking the girl’s tousled blond hair, and she wondered how long Audra had been stationed here without rest or refreshment.
Rhianna then met Guilford’s gaze. “Lord Kingsley,” she called sadly, his feeble condition cutting her to the core, “I’m so sorry I was not here sooner.”
“Rhianna.” He smiled wider and drew a long, deep breath. “Please.”
Perhaps it was the circumstances, but that he called her thus did not give her any pause. In fact, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
He gestured to a seat beside him that only moments previous had belonged to Dr. Logan. Thayne was already beside him, on bended knee.
“What can we get you?” he asked Guilford, attentively.
“A moment with Miss Braden, if you please,” he answered, patting Thayne’s hand that had found its resting place upon his shoulder.
Lord Kingsley’s gaze was yet upon her and would not be diverted. Thayne looked to Dr. Logan, who read the question in his eyes.
“There is no immediate danger in removing the child,” the doctor answered.
Thayne nodded dutifully and rose to his feet as Dr. Logan and Weathersby retreated to the hall.
“I shall be just outside this door,” he told Rhianna. Then, leaning toward Audra, he petitioned, “Why do we not see if Katie can get you something to eat?”
Her head turned to him slowly, her lips quivering. Audra involuntarily tightened her hands around the strands of material she held in her grip. Thayne gently brushed his fingers against her wet eyelashes and patted her damp cheek compassionately.
“At least to drink, Audra,” Rhianna supplicated. “You can come right back.”
Thayne held out his hand to her. She accepted it and silently allowed him to lead her out the door. He closed it quietly behind them.
Rhianna quickly took her seat at Guilford’s side. Lord Kingsley in the last few weeks was reduced to nearly half the physical man he had been. She had put on a brave face with Audra nearby, but the tears welled up in her absence. Leaning toward him sorrowfully, a flood of memories flashed through her mind of happier times: when he met her in France to escort her to England, when he offered her a position as Audra’s governess, when he insisted she attend the ball, and when he prepared to host a visit from the Vallières …
“I was wondering how I would ever put what I have to say to you on paper,” he told her, pushing himself up on his pillows.
He coughed.
“I’m so sorry, Lord Kingsley,” she expressed, regretfully. “I should have been here.”
“No apologies,” he insisted, with a slight wave of the hand. “I’m surprised you returned at all, after Desmond frightened you out of the house.”
Suddenly, she remembered the state of her appearance, her torn dress and disheveled hair. Yet, this alone would not have told her story.
“How did you know?”
He drew another deep breath. “It was the only time Audra left my side,” he answered. “She went to look for you. When she overheard what happened, she told me.” She saw a spark of anger in his eyes. “I banned him from the manor. He will not return as long as I am still living.”
“Lord Kingsley, I would never ask that of you.”
“It will not be for long, I assure you. Afterward, Lydia will do as she pleases. I only wish I could have done more. And I wish there was a way for you to care for Audra in my absence …”
Guilford’s last words struck a chord with her. “Do not say such things …”
“Oh, but I must! My situation cannot be ignored and there is much to be done before my time is up.”
Greatly distressed, Rhianna could not respond. The thought of separating from Audra crushed her under the best of circumstances, but this, the thought of separating from Audra as she lost her beloved father, was devastating. Rhianna pressed her hand to the side of the bed for support.
“Not to worry,” he assured her. “I have made arrangements for you both. All will be well …” She looked at him in amazement, as he added, “… but first …” Guilford Kingsley raised himself up further in his bed and cleared his throat. “I am sorry for the tale I have to tell you, and I hope you can forgive me.”
He drew as deep a breath as he was able and begged her to hear him out fully. “Thirty years ago, I came into contact with a family by the name of Rotherhithe,” he began. “The Rotherhithes were a prominent family, with a solid reputation and significant wealth — at least, such was the pretense. They were the talk of London at the time and my father soon arranged for my marriage to their eldest daughter. I had hardly known her two months when we were wed. You know her today as Lydia Kingsley.
“Unbeknownst to all, the Rotherhithes had lost their fortune to dishonest and self-indulgent lifestyles. When Lydia and I were united, it became clear the connection worked only as a political advantage. Financially, it benefitted only Lydia. It was a difficult lie to surmount and it was not the only obstacle to a successful union. As is the case with most arranged marriages, Lydia and I had no attachment to each other. Try as I would to make our family work, her heart lay with her cousin, Pierson.”
Lord Kingsley paused. It was more speaking than he had done recently and he took a moment to catch his breath. Rhianna offered him a drink of water and he accepted with her assistance.
“Lord Kingsley,” she said delicately, “with all due respect, I cannot fathom what your purpose can be in telling me such intimate details …”
“Time passed,” he continued with effort. “Lydia and I were strangers living under the same roof when Desmond was born. A horrific child, mind you, that went through one governess after another. There was only one who really tried to work with him, shortly before he was old enough to send away to Oxford. Her name was Haldana Greenhalgh; I called her Hallie.”
Rhianna froze in her seat, suddenly terrified that with one small movement she might miss a word of what he had to say. This was an unexpected turn in the conversation and she was inwardly thrilled that she would finally know something about Hallie.
“Forced with the reality that she would need to provide for herself, she knew what her options were. She did the only thing that is open to a woman who falls into such a situation. Hallie became a governess. She was eighteen years old when she found a position here at Kingsley Manor.” Guilford pressed his lips together and his eyes watered. With the tears that followed, he added, “It was then, for the first time in my life, that I fell in love.”
This tale did little to assist Rhianna, who continued to fight her own tears, as she had from the moment she sat beside him.
“She was the most beautiful of women,” he went on, his breathing labored more from emotion than illness, “an angel of heaven. Kind, compassionate, loving — everything that Lydia was not. There was not to be found a gentler soul on all the Earth, and what was more, she returned my affections. I was the happiest of men, then. Lydia and Pierson could have taken all of my possessions — and mind you, they tried — but so long as I had Hallie, it mattered not. With her, I felt true happiness.”
Guilford paused again and cleared his throat. At the same time, he examined Rhianna’s face and she wondered if it appeared to him more emotional or captivated. He proceeded.
“Not many months passed when Hallie became pregnant with my child,” he told her, quickly, as if he had never before said it aloud. “I knew Hallie could not stay in the house once her condition became obvious, but I was determined to provide for her. Around her fourth month, she resigned as governess. My hope was to bring her with me to my Irish estate, Wyndgate, but my business at the time would not allow me to leave England. Neither of us was keen on being separated, so I moved her to my hunting lodge. It was intended to be a temporary solution, while she waited out the pregnancy.
“Of course, someone would need to care for her. At Hallie’s request, a letter was sent to her old nanny, the woman who had brought her up as a child. They were very close. I believe you know her,” he smiled, and the blood drained from Rhianna’s face as she guessed whom he meant. “Mauvreen came to live with her as a caretaker and, ultimately, served as her midwife. Hallie carried the baby to term, and gave birth to a daughter.” He paused. “For the second time in my life, I fell in love.”
Rhianna’s heart moved for him. In such an unfair world, she was glad there was some happiness to be had for him, however sinful. She offered Guilford another glass of water. Rhianna found just enough time to wipe away a tear without his noticing, as he sipped.
“To my greatest devastation,” he went on, after a heartfelt moment of silence, “Hallie did not survive. As you may be aware, My Dearest Haldana is buried in the garden behind the lodge.”
“I’ve been there,” Rhianna confessed. She surprised herself when she spoke. “Surrounded by roses.”
“They were her favorite.” Speaking with impressive honesty, he told her, “It was there that my life would have ended, as well, but for the baby that lived.”
“Please go on,” Rhianna encouraged, as he hesitated.
Lord Kingsley nodded, as if gaining courage. “By the mercy of God, Hallie was blessed with seeing and naming her child before her death. But the miserable question arose as to what to do with the baby. I could not bring her to Kingsley Manor and she could not be raised by Mauvreen in the lodge. It was sheer coincidence that, at around that same time, Mrs. Braden also had been pregnant and was due to give birth.”
At hearing this, a short gasp escaped Rhianna’s lips. “Are you speaking of myself?”
Guilford shook his head. “Actually, I am not. Mrs. Braden gave birth to a stillborn. You can see its unmarked grave in the churchyard, next to the Bradens’ graves today.”
Rhianna’s spirits fell at hearing this. She had never known of her mother’s loss, and she inwardly mourned the death of what she imagined would have been an older brother or sister to herself.
“Mr. Braden was one of the few who were aware of my situation and I turned to him for help. Offering to provide financial support, I begged that he would take my child and raise it as his own.”
Rhianna’s brows furrowed as she considered this. Suddenly, her heart was racing. She had no siblings. Her father must have declined his request.
“What did … my father … say?” she asked, choking on her own words.
Guilford’s eyes were pained as he looked at her. “He said that he would.”
All at once, his words rushed in at her. The room was void of air. Her limbs went numb. The fibers of her very being felt disjointed and an internal struggle to remain whole — to remain her — ensued.
“Rhianna,” he told her, gently, “you are my daughter. I only pray that you understand why I had no choice but to do what I did and can forgive me for letting you go.”
She knew not when her free hand covered her mouth, but she was grateful the other still supported her against the bed. Rhianna felt the pressure of emotion building within her and she feared its release.
“I want you to know how very much I have loved you from the beginning,” he added, “and how very much I love you now.”
Rhianna stood and faced away from him, her every extremity entirely without sensation. She was conscious only of the fierce pounding of her heart as it pumped her blood wildly through her veins. The back of the chair she had been seated in became her new source of physical stability while her entire life began to flash before her eyes. The emotional distance displayed by her parents during her young years with them. How very much she did not look like them. Their lack of communication during her years in France. It was little wonder that when Lord Kingsley arrived to tell her of their funeral arrangements, that she felt little other than obligation to return to England …
When Lord Kingsley arrived.
At that moment, the pieces began to fall into place for her. His traveling to France was not, at least solely, out of gratitude to Mr. Braden. He traveled to France for her. His devotion to her comfort, his kindness, his familial manner, and …
And then something else occurred to her, and she turned back to him. She began to feel one all-encompassing emotion at a time, starting with hope.
“Audra?” she asked.
Guilford seemed relieved to see her face him again, and nodded. “Your half-sister.”
Euphoria.
And then …
“Desmond?” she breathed, sickly.
He shook his head. “Lydia and Pierson’s child.”
Shock.
Relief.
Rhianna shivered, as if her body required it to expel any other possibility of a relation to him. A moment later, she asked Lord Kingsley the only full-length question she could articulate.
“Why are you telling me now?”
Guilford sighed. The impression was in relief. There was no doubt he had been anticipating a release from this secret for some time.
“There are several reasons,” he confessed, “some of them purely selfish on my part. I want you to know how much you were loved by your mother, who in only a few hours loved you enough for your entire lifetime. You deserve to know that you sing with her voice — the voice of an angel, truly.”
Rhianna recalled how Guilford excused himself from the drawing room the night she performed for the Kingsleys and Brightons.
“I want you to know how much you have been loved by me, from the moment I knew that you were coming into the world,” he continued. “I want you … I want you to know how very much you look like your grandmother, Catherine Kingsley.” He smiled. “You know, Dowager Lady Whitehall may not have seen a ghost that night at the ball, but I couldn’t blame her for thinking it.”
As he spoke, the strength in her legs began to fail her and she reclaimed her seat beside him. So much for sin
gle, identifiable emotions — she no longer knew how to feel. It was all too much. Rhianna recalled the moment during the ball when everything stopped. The old woman’s loud cry, her frightened face, her certainty that Rhianna was “Catherine.”
“Fortunately,” he continued, “there is no one else still living who knew my mother in her youth to recognize you. But those are the selfish reasons for telling you the truth, Rhianna. There are some practical reasons, as well.”
Rhianna was certain she could not speak for some time, but she took his hand in hers. It was all she could offer for the moment. Guilford beamed. She felt him squeeze her hand, but his grip was weak.
“Kingsley Manor,” he told her, his voice a raspy whisper, “unfortunately, is entailed to Desmond. As much as I wish I could do something about that, I cannot. However, Wyndgate is unentailed.”
“Wyndgate,” she repeated. “The Irish estate you spoke of?”
He nodded. “It is more desirable to Desmond than even this house and the title that comes with it because of the debt that he and Pierson have incurred through their compulsive gambling. Pierson has no rank in the peerage and is very likely to end up in debtor’s prison. But Wyndgate could be sold and the debts absolved. That is, if Desmond were to inherit it, which Lydia has always assumed. The fact is, Rhianna, it is the one aspect of my wealth that I can control. It also happens that I care very little for Pierson’s debts when I have two daughters to care for. The will I have drawn up leaves Wyndgate to you and Audra, fifty-fifty.”
Rhianna’s mouth fell, but he left her little time to absorb his words.
“Of course, Lydia and Desmond still have no idea I deeded the benefice to Mr. Braden some twenty years back in exchange for taking you. At the time I had done so, I stipulated it not become public knowledge. Mr. Braden, of course, had no objection so long as he was receiving all the tithes and revenue from the glebe. You can have no idea of my relief when you readily agreed to my request for discretion on the matter. Lydia and Desmond will not be happy when they find out,” he warned her. “You will have friends on your side, though. Weathersby can be trusted, as well as my lawyer, Mr. Brown. Of course, I will let Brighton know my wishes …”
