by Diana Quincy
“Yes.” A renewed sense of determination coursed through him. “I won’t disappoint you. I will bring Isabel back.” He hugged them both tightly to him. “I promise.”
* * *
—
The following day, Sunny appeared unannounced at the Drummond home on Duke Street. Isabel’s friend lived in a modest but well-appointed abode that spoke of nobility and comfort but also limited wealth. Mr. Drummond was a younger son and unlikely to come into a grand inheritance. The Drummond butler led him to a formal salon to await his audience with the lady of the house.
“Your Grace.” Abigail Drummond bustled in to greet Sunny.
“Good day, Mrs. Drummond. I hope you will forgive my calling unexpectedly.”
“This is a surprise, Your Grace,” she said politely. “To what do I owe this unexpected honor?”
“Where’s Finch?”
A little furrow developed at the bridge of her narrow nose. “I beg your pardon?”
“You are a great friend of my former governess, are you not?” His manner was sharp and direct, just within the bounds of courtesy. Whatever deceit Isabel was up to, this woman was party to at least some of it. “I understand Miss Finch was not merely an employee in your service, Mrs. Drummond.”
She drew herself up. “It is Lady Abigail,” she informed him, an unsubtle reminder that she, as the daughter of a viscount, possessed rank enough to expect civility from him. Even if he was a duke. “And yes, Coco…Isabel, rather, and I are friends. We are more than friends. I love her dearly.”
“Coco? Dear God.” He huffed a mirthless laugh. “Isabel isn’t even her name? Did she lie about everything?”
“Isabel is her middle name. Coco is the family’s pet name for her.”
“And are you family?”
She hesitated. “I consider Coco to be my family, yes.”
“Where is she?”
“I do not know, and that is the truth.”
“I’d expect you to be terribly worried about…Coco.” He would never have associated that appellation with the she-dragon who first came into his employ, yet the name seemed to perfect for the vibrant caring woman he’d fallen in love with. “And yet, you don’t seem concerned about her whereabouts.”
“That is because she came to see me once you threw her out in the street.”
“I did no such thing. I dismissed her as is my right as her employer.”
“You used her and then cast her out. You jilted her.”
Sunny’s muscles tensed. “Because you are Isabel’s friend, I will allow that insult to pass.” Only a cad and a man utterly without honor would abandon a woman as Lady Abigail suggested. “I cast Isabel out because she betrayed me in the worst possible way.” But he had not come here to discuss that with Isabel’s accomplice. “You say she came to see you?”
“Yes, but she refused to tell me where she was going. She said it was up to her to put things to rights.”
“I gather that means Finch intends to take up residence at the vicarage once my cousin wins custody of the children. But I will fight to keep them,” he said vehemently. “They are my blood.”
A sense of wonder came over Lady Abigail’s face. “You do love them.” She smiled. “The Duke of Sunderford conquered by two seven-year-olds. Who would ever have thought it?”
“They are eight, not seven,” he said impatiently. “They are also missing Finch terribly. Can you think of any place she would have gone? Whatever I think of Finch, and wherever Patience and Prudence ultimately settle, they must be with her. It is incumbent upon us all to act in the best interests of the children.”
For some odd reason, Lady Abigail seemed stricken. “This disaster is all my doing.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Coco didn’t send her grievances to my father. She didn’t want anyone to see the letter. But I feared terribly for her. I wanted to protect her from being hurt again.”
“And you presumed I would be the agent of her unhappiness.”
The lady nodded. “When she mentioned your cousin, the vicar, it seemed like the perfect solution. She had no idea that I’d given the letter to my father.”
“And when was that?”
“I took it with me to the country when we went to be with my mother, who was ill. I gave it to my father then. I was not in contact with Coco during that time and had no idea that you two had…grown close. I only found out about your…improved relations…the day Coco came to me after you’d asked her to leave your household.”
“Good God.” Sunny sank into the nearest chair. “What a terrible mess this is.” Not only had Isabel not betrayed him, but now she was out there alone somewhere, cut off from the children, believing he thought the worst of her.
“I do beg your pardon,” she said. “I am the cause of this terrible misunderstanding.”
Remorse cut through him. “I knew she’d already lost everything once before, and yet I still threw her out and separated her from the children. She must have thought it was happening all over again.” Isabel had told him she’d barely survived the first time she’d lost everything. “What if she cannot withstand another loss?”
“She can. Coco is strong,” Lady Abigail assured him. “But you mustn’t stop looking for her.”
He had a thought. “The informal hearing to discuss the children’s guardianship is in two days’ time. Do you think she will appear then?”
“I doubt that. She said you told her to stay away.”
Sunny exhaled. He’d done far worse than that, threatening Isabel with absolute ruination if she spoke at the hearing. He came to his feet. “Whatever happens, I will not stop looking for Isabel until I find her. The children need her. I need her.”
Lady Abigail regarded him with compassion. “And I believe she needs you. Find Isabel and ask her to tell you the full story of her past. You have much to learn before everything between the two of you can be settled.”
Chapter 26
The informal hearing to determine the girls’ guardianship took place at Westminster Hall, where the Court of the Chancery held its sessions. Accompanied by Gilpin, his half brother–solicitor, Sunny hurried along the long hall, passing the old stone walls under the soaring Gothic arches. Fortunately, since this was an informal hearing, the meeting would take place in a private chamber.
Given the high status of the parties involved—a duke, an earl, and a viscount—the Lord Chancellor himself presided over the matter. He took a seat at the head of the table, with Sunny and Gilpin to his left, sitting opposite Winchester and Denbury.
Alert, his muscles tensed, Sunny studied his opponents. While the earl and viscount shared a rigid moral code, they could not be more different in appearance. The narrow-faced Winchester was exceedingly tall, taller even than Sunny, while his portly friend Denbury—Lady Abigail’s father—was short and rotund, with a ruddy, moon-shaped face.
“Your Grace, my lords,” the Lord Chancellor began, “as you know, I shall depend upon common sense and what is in the best interests of the minor children when rendering my opinion in this matter.”
“Naturally.” Winchester spoke with an air of condescension. “We, all of us, only desire that which is best for the children.”
The viscount tipped his head in Sunny’s direction. “On that I am certain we all agree.”
Sunny stared at both men, stone-faced, while the Lord Chancellor continued. “Issues of guardianship are normally left to the family. However, the children’s father is deceased, as is his chosen guardian. Since an objection has been lodged regarding His Grace’s suitability to act as guardian to young innocents, it is for the Court of the Chancery to render a judgment in this case, which will hopefully be agreeable to all concerned.”
Sunny could stay silent no longer. “I should like to know what business either of these men has interfering with my family. After
all, it is my blood that runs through these children’s veins.”
Gilpin touched a reassuring hand to the duke’s sleeve before addressing the gentlemen sitting across the table. “With respect, my lords, the father’s family has priority of guardianship in cases such as these.”
“Naturally.” Malice flickered in Winchester’s pale eyes. “Unless circumstances show the children are at risk of being corrupted.”
Sunny’s lip curled. “You may go to perdition. The children are safe and happy in my care. They want for nothing.”
“Gentlemen,” the Lord Chancellor interjected, “let us remain civilized, shall we?” They were interrupted by the arrival of a clerk who entered and handed the man a letter before quietly exiting the room.
While the Lord Chancellor examined the missive, Denbury glared at Sunny. “Why doesn’t Sunderford tell us about the naked strumpets he parades through the house while the children are present?”
Gilpin spoke. “The children were never present at any of those revels, which are now in the duke’s past. He no longer hosts such entertainments.”
“Balderdash!” A skeptical half-laugh erupted out of Denbury. “We are all aware of Sinful Sunny’s exploits. It is well known that the duke thinks nothing of dallying with two women at once. His governess writes of witnessing naked strumpets performing perverted acts upon one another. It is common knowledge in Mayfair that people attend these routs in various states of undress and perform indecent acts upon each other in full view of other guests.”
“It sounds like you’ve memorized the letter,” Sunny said. “How many times have you read it?”
Denbury flushed. “Several times in order to be fully apprised of the sordid details.”
“It sounds to me as if you wish one of those naked strumpets could suck you off.” Beside Sunny, Gilpin sighed and shook his head.
“You are abominable!” the viscount said.
“I agree.” Winchester surged forward in his chair. “Simply outrageous.”
The Lord Chancellor looked up from the letter he’d been reading. “As fascinating as this conversation is, it seems there has been a new development in this matter.”
“What is it?” Sunny asked.
“The girls’ mother is here and wishes to speak.”
“Ballocks!” Sunny exclaimed. “The girls’ mother wants nothing to do with them. She was a tavern wench who happily took her widow’s portion and vanished to enjoy her life.”
Denbury shook his head. “No, she didn’t. Who told you that?”
Winchester smiled at Sunny with great satisfaction. “It is my understanding the mother wishes to reclaim her children.”
“Bugger that!” Sunny’s fist came down hard on the table, his face and neck burning. He’d die before allowing some jezebel who didn’t give a damn about the children to take them from him. “She abandoned them once. For all we know, she’ll do it again.”
“My Lord Chancellor,” Gilpin put in, “how can we know if this woman who claims to be the mother is truly Charity Comerford Fairfax?”
Denbury tilted his head back. “I’m sure I would know her.”
The Lord Chancellor regarded the viscount with interest. “You would?”
“Yes, indeed.” The smug expression on Denbury’s face made Sunny’s gut twist. “I am very well acquainted with Charity Comerford.”
“I’ll bet you are.” Sunny glared at him. “Did you make it your mission to find her after your daughter brought my governess’s letter to you? I suppose you ran that wench to ground all for the purpose of using her as a tool to steal the children away.”
“No indeed,” Denbury said placidly. “As a matter of fact, my daughter, Mrs. Abigail Drummond, just recently informed me of Charity’s whereabouts.”
Sunny’s head was spinning. He did not know what Denbury was about, but he did comprehend that whatever it was, it did not bode well for Sunny’s chances of keeping the girls. “How did your daughter, a gentlewoman, come to be acquainted with Charity Comerford?” he demanded to know.
The Lord Chancellor seemed to be having trouble following the conversation. “What does your daughter have to do with this case?” he asked Denbury.
“Mrs. Drummond is my former governess’s previous employer,” Sunny informed him.
“No, she wasn’t.” Denbury shot him a puzzled look. “I care deeply about what becomes of the children because my family was quite close to your cousin Cornelius and his wife when we resided in the West Indies.”
“The devil you say.” This was the first Sunny had heard of Denbury living on the islands. “When was that?”
“I lived in the West Indies for many years…until I came into the title six years ago. I oversaw my family’s lucrative sugarcane plantation.”
The Lord Chancellor rose. “I see there is much here that needs to be sorted out. I shall go and speak with the lady to ascertain both her identity and her intent. If you’ll excuse me, my lords, Your Grace.”
As soon as the Lord Chancellor exited the room, Sunny shot to his feet and paced across the chamber. “What does this mean?” he hissed at Gilpin, who’d risen and followed him to the far corner of the room.
Gilpin rubbed the back of his neck. Sunny was well enough acquainted with the man to know that signaled that his solicitor was uneasy.
“The arrival of the girls’ mother, if that is who the new arrival is, is not a positive development for us.” Gilpin pressed his lips tightly together before continuing. “An unmarried widow would be the natural guardian for children such as Patience and Prudence, especially since the father’s chosen guardian is deceased.”
“Uncle Abel said the twins’ mother was a tavern wench who was very generous with her favors. The girls cannot go and live with someone such as that. She only wed Cornelius for his money.”
“If that’s the case, then it will be easy enough for you to pay her to go away and leave you and the children alone. Perhaps that’s what she’s after. After all, if she’s here, she obviously knows the children are now being cared for by a very wealthy duke.”
“What if she’s an imposter? The twins’ mother lived in the West Indies. No one in London knows what she looks like.”
“Denbury claims to,” Gilpin said grimly. “And the Lord Chancellor might well accept the word of a viscount.”
The door opened, and the Lord Chancellor came in. “I have talked to the widow and am convinced she is sincere. Mrs. Fairfax wishes to speak.” He turned to the open door and addressed someone waiting in the corridor. “Please do come in.”
His heart beating fast, Sunny’s gaze was glued to the door. The woman entered clad in a fine blue silk gown that brought out the color of her eyes and complemented her lithe figure in a way that no drab governess’s shroud ever had.
She surveyed the chamber as if searching him out, her gaze locking with his when she found him. “Hello, Your Grace.”
“Finch,” he said. “Where the devil have you been?”
He watched in shock, barely comprehending what was happening as Isabel embraced Denbury. Through his fog of confusion, Sunny heard the Lord Chancellor call for them all to resume their seats, directing Isabel to the chair opposite his own at the far end of the table.
“What in Hades is going on?” Sunny murmured to Gilpin as they made their way back to the table. “Finch has decided to testify against me after all?”
Gilpin tracked Isabel’s movements with his eyes. “Unless I misunderstand the situation, your governess is Charity Fairfax, the children’s mother.”
Sunny sat with a heavy thud. Suddenly, Finch’s fierce motherly devotion to the children made perfect sense.
He hungrily took in the contours of Isabel’s lovely face, her every gesture and movement. He did not know exactly what her presence here portended for the future, but he did know he’d missed her
terribly. All he wanted to do was take her into his arms, even if she did want to take the girls from him.
The Lord Chancellor gestured toward Isabel. “Perhaps, Mrs. Fairfax, you could share with the gentlemen in this chamber what you told me out in the corridor.”
“Very well.” Finch sat straight, her posture perfect. “My name is Charity Isabel Comerford Fairfax. I was married to Cornelius Benjamin Fairfax, and we were blessed with two daughters, Patience and Prudence, born eight minutes apart. Unfortunately, my husband died of fever when the children were infants. He had designated his elder brother, Jacob, to be the children’s guardian. I believe Ben assumed his brother would look after me and the children.”
The Lord Chancellor cleared his throat. “Allow me to remind everyone in attendance that the testimony given in this chamber is confidential. Please continue, Mrs. Fairfax.”
“Jacob banished me from the family house and forbade me from seeing the children a few months after Ben died.”
Winchester made a grunt of disapproval. “But why would he do that?”
She took a deep breath. “I have promised the Lord Chancellor to be truthful and so I shall be. Jacob held me in dislike because Ben and I anticipated our marriage vows, and I was already with child when we wed.”
“It is no wonder he banished you.” Winchester made a moue of distaste. “Your conduct was not that of a virtuous woman.”
“Stuff it,” Sunny said to the earl. “Who are you to sit in judgment of anyone? It’s the men who shout their virtue from the rooftops who have the most to hide.” He thought of his father. “If I investigated, I’ve no doubt I’d find some skeletons, or tarts, in that closet of yours.”
Winchester reddened. “I assure you that you would not.”
“Let’s continue, shall we?” The Lord Chancellor redirected their attention toward Finch. “Please continue.”
“I realize now that my husband and I were guilty of the arrogance of youth. We were tremendously popular among our set in the West Indies in a way that Jacob never was. Neither my husband nor I paid Jacob much attention. We never gave him much thought, to be perfectly honest. A few months after Ben died, Jacob banished me from the children’s lives. He said I was a woman of low morals who had never shown him the proper respect and that he would not allow me to corrupt the children.”
