“It’s almost like a family reunion,” Gillian said in a droll tone. “What fun.”
“If your idea of fun is sticking a needle in your eye,” Jack said in blighting tones. “There is no way this is not going to end in disaster, thanks to Anne’s pigheadedness.” His sister merely grinned, which he obviously found annoying. “And don’t ask me to come to your rescue when Mother finds out about this. I’ll leave you to your well-deserved fate.”
That was a bit much, even if Jack was deservedly out of sorts. It couldn’t have been easy for Lady Anne to come here or to make a public apology to Gillian.
“Jack, stop being so mean to your sister,” Lia said.
“You’d be mean, too, if you had to put up with her antics,” he said. This time, though, his mouth curved in a smile of rueful affection.
When he tugged on one of the curls escaping from under Lady Anne’s dainty frippery of a hat, Lia’s stomach took a flop. He’d tugged on her ragtag curls many times over the years, in an intimate gesture she’d thought was reserved for her. How silly to think she was more important to him than his own sister. Jack had a real family, with bonds strengthened by blood, loyalty, and a shared history. Their curiosity of a relationship could never compare with that.
“That’s enough out of you, my lord,” Lady Anne said sternly. “Now, I would be most grateful if you took the duchess for a little stroll around the gardens so Miss Kincaid and I can have a chat.”
Jack’s gaze narrowed. “Anne, I really don’t think—”
Lia touched his arm. “I’m happy to hear whatever you sister wishes to say to me.”
“And to paraphrase you, dear brother, I’m not an ogre,” Lady Anne said. “But I do need to make my apologies to Miss Kincaid and I’d prefer to do so in private.”
Lia mentally frowned. Her ladyship had easily apologized to Gillian in front of an audience. Why did she need privacy now?
“Very well,” Jack said to his sibling. “But you’re not to upset her.”
When Lady Anne rolled her eyes at him, Lia was again struck by how much alike they were. They’d inherited the same dark good looks from their father, along with his easygoing charm. When Lady Anne stretched up and gave her brother a fleeting kiss on the cheek, it was another unwelcome reminder that Jack already had a family to which he owed his true allegiance and support.
“I know how much Miss Kincaid means to you, Jack,” Lady Anne said. “And I also know how fond our uncle was of her. I promise to treat her with the respect she deserves.”
He nodded. “Very well. Lia, I’ll take Her Grace for one turn around the garden and then I’ll be back. All right?”
“You’re as bad as Charles,” Gillian said. “You men act as if none of us females can possibly take care of ourselves. It’s complete nonsense.” She ignored Jack’s protests and started to drag him off toward her husband.
Lady Anne chuckled. “Brothers can be such a trial, but it seems her ladyship has Jack well in hand.”
“I never had a brother, my lady.” Until recently, that is. Of course, she had yet to meet Captain Endicott, so he didn’t feel very real just then.
“Jack was always like a brother to you, was he not? At least that’s what I’d always assumed.”
Lia thought about that for a few moments. “Looking back on it, I’m not really sure what sort of relationship we had.” She gestured toward the other chair. “Won’t you have a seat?”
“You were close, though,” Lady Anne said after she’d seated herself and arranged the skirts of her stylish summer gown. “In fact, I confess to feeling a bit jealous when we were young. Even though Jack was careful not to mention your name around my mother—or me, for that matter—it was clear he was very protective of you.”
Lia frowned. “Was he not the same with you?”
Lady Anne smiled. “He was a very good brother and still is. But even though we did not discuss you, I could tell you were special to him. I assumed it was because he thought of you as a little sister.” She gave Lia an assessing look. “That, however, no longer seems to be the case.”
It took some effort for Lia not to squirm under the woman’s perceptive gaze. “I’m not sure how Jack sees me anymore—or did when we were younger, for that matter. It wasn’t anything we ever discussed.”
Lady Anne raised politely incredulous eyebrows. “Really?”
Lia shrugged. “It was awkward for all of us, you have to admit, and my grandmother and Lord Lendale never encouraged us to talk about it. Better just to pretend that our odd collection of relationships was quite normal. But to me, Jack was my best friend.” She was silent for a few seconds. “My only friend really.”
Her companion’s eyes warmed with understanding. “Yes, I imagine it was difficult for you. And lonely. You and your grandmother could never truly be accepted into local society, and yet you weren’t servants at Stonefell either. That left you rather betwixt and between, didn’t it?”
It was a surprisingly sympathetic analysis, coming from someone who had every reason to resent her. “I won’t pretend it was always easy, but it was harder for my grandmother.”
“But you had no female friends, nor were you able to attend school in the village. My uncle provided for you, but you never had what anyone would call a normal life for a young girl.”
“No, but there’s truly no need to feel sorry for me. I wasn’t put into service, nor did I have to work in the fields like the children of the tenant farmers. And I had Stonefell, which was a splendid place to grow up. I also had Jack, whenever he came to visit.”
“Was that enough?” Lady Anne asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“I have no complaints,” Lia said quietly.
“No one could blame you if you did.” She sighed. “We were not well-served by our elders, were we? You, Jack, and me.”
Lia shifted uncomfortably against the hard iron seat. “Forgive me, my lady, but I’m not sure what you want from me.”
“Please call me Anne. After all, we’re practically family, as the duchess suggested,” she said with a wry smile.
Now it was Lia’s turn to raise a skeptical brow.
Anne laughed. “All right, I suppose that was a bit much. But I do think we might have been friends, if circumstances had allowed for it.”
“Probably not,” Lia said. “I was too intimidated by you. You were so beautiful and grand, just like your mother.”
“I was an awful snob, you mean,” Lady Anne dryly replied.
“Your ladyship . . .” Lia stopped, because there was simply no reasonable response to that remark.
The elegant eyebrow, so like Jack’s, went up again. Lady Anne was as stubborn as her brother, too.
“Very well. Anne,” Lia said with a reluctant smile. “You said you wanted to offer me an apology for that incident at the Leverton ball. But it’s not necessary. You have done nothing to injure me.”
Anne’s mother was another story, but Lia knew better than anyone that the sins of the parent should not be visited upon the child.
“Mama behaved wretchedly, and I regret that I wasn’t able to stop her. Still, I do understand why she did it. Life has not been easy for her.”
“I know,” Lia said. “Your mother was forced to make many sacrifices over the years, as were you. I know it wasn’t easy for you either. Especially when you had to leave your family. Leave London.”
Anne looked puzzled for a few moments before understanding cleared her brow. “Are you referring to my marriage to Mr. Kendall? That was no sacrifice, I assure you. In fact, it was the best thing to ever happen to me.”
“But I was always told that . . .” There was no delicate way to put it.
“That I’d married beneath myself?”
“You were a diamond of the first water when you came out. According to my grandmother, you were expected to make a splendid marriage. Everyone was counting on it, from what I’d been told.”
“And I did make a splendid marriage. My husband is an intellig
ent, kind, and fine-looking man who simply adores me.” She flashed Lia a roguish smile. “He’s also very rich and generous, which is certainly nothing to sneeze at. I am happily wed, I assure you.”
Lia felt as if a bolt that secured something essential had come loose in her head. “I apologize if I gave offense,” she said slowly. “I was clearly under a false impression.”
And she had been for years. More than once, Lia had heard the story of Anne’s failure to take, all for lack of an adequate dowry. She’d also heard how resentful Lady John had been that her beautiful, charming daughter had been forced to marry so far beneath herself—to a mere country squire. Lia had always thought it rather unfair that her ladyship had partly blamed Rebecca Kincaid for that state of affairs. No one had forced the men of the family to spend their money on gambling and mistresses.
And it wasn’t as if Granny hadn’t made sacrifices, too. Those sacrifices were likely to ruin both her and Lia if they couldn’t figure out a solution to their financial dilemma.
Anne gave an understanding nod. “An impression fostered by my mother. She was very angry when I was forced to marry Mr. Kendall, as she put it. And I won’t pretend I enjoyed being passed over by eligible suitors again and again, simply because I lacked a dowry. That part wasn’t pleasant, nor was the gossip about my father’s scandalous behavior.”
The young woman glanced over her shoulder, as if checking to see if anyone could overhear; then she leaned in closer to Lia. “But I’ll tell you a secret. I was thrilled to escape all the gossip and drama. The day I married Mr. Kendall and left Town was one of the happiest days of my life.” She let out a short laugh and sat back in her chair. “If you’d had to live with my parents, you would know exactly what I mean. That was another reason I was jealous of you when I was a girl. Your life at Stonefell seemed so peaceful. I never blamed Jack for wanting to escape to Yorkshire and stay with Uncle Arthur.”
“I . . . I hardly know what to say,” Lia stammered. In just a few sentences, her view of the Easton family—at least part of it—had been stood on its head. “I truly didn’t know you felt that way.”
Anne shrugged. “My mother has constructed a narrative of our family that suits her and nothing I or Jack say seems to be able to change that. Unfortunately, blaming you and your grandmother forms an important part of that narrative. But the real blame rests with my father.” She paused for a moment, her gaze searching. “And with your mother.”
Lia frowned. “What does my mother have to do with it?”
“Ah, I thought so.” Anne let out a sigh that sounded curiously relieved. “You truly don’t know what happened.”
Oh no. What did you do, Mama?
Everything inside Lia shrank away from the ugliness suddenly roaring down on her, but there was no avoiding it. “What do you mean?”
Anne regarded her with a calm, almost sad expression. “It occurred shortly after you and your grandmother departed for Stonefell with my uncle. I believe you were not yet three at the time, correct?”
Lia nodded. Her heart was caught in her throat, making it impossible to speak.
“Not long after you left Town,” Anne said, “my father and your mother had an affair. And my mother, I’m sorry to say, found out about it.” She gave Lia a sad smile. “And that, my dear, is why Lady John Easton will forever hate anyone who goes by the name of Kincaid.”
Chapter Twenty
“Miss Kincaid, are you well?” Anne said, peering at Lia with concern.
“Please call me Lia.” It was a silly answer, but all the sense had been knocked out of Lia’s head.
“Yes, of course.” Jack’s sister snatched up a glass of lemonade on the small table and pressed it into Lia’s hands. “You suddenly look quite done in, which is hardly odd after the unfortunate revelation I sprang on you. I’m sorry for that.”
Lia took the glass in her slightly trembling hand and brought it to her lips. The drink was tepid, but the tartness of the lemons helped to revive her. “There’s no need to apologize. As you pointed out, our parents have poorly served us. But this . . .” She shook her head with disgust. “I cannot believe my mother acted with such wanton disregard for the feelings of your family.”
Even though it had happened years ago and many sins could be forgiven, Mama could hardly have made a more ignoble and unwise choice of lovers than Lord John Easton.
“No wonder your mother hates us,” Lia went on. “First your uncle installs my grandmother as his mistress on the family estate and then my mother embarks on a scandalous affair with yet another Easton man. We truly must seem like a plague.”
Anne nodded. “That’s a very apt description from my mother’s point of view, especially now that Jack seems . . .”
“Involved with me,” Lia finished. Lady John’s disastrous conduct at the ball now made complete sense. “Does Jack know about the affair?”
“No. Apparently, it was hushed up almost immediately. My mother discovered the affair and demanded that my father put an end to it. Uncle Arthur supported her.” Anne grimaced. “Could you imagine the scandal if they’d been discovered? The Easton men and the Kincaid women—the satirists and the gossips would have had a field day. As morally lax as he was, even my uncle wouldn’t tolerate that sort of ugliness.”
“I’m sure my grandmother wouldn’t have been pleased either. She wanted to escape the scandal of her former life—for my sake, as well as hers. That’s why she was so eager to retire to Stonefell and fade into obscurity.”
Lia wasn’t surprised Granny had never mentioned this nasty little chapter in the family’s history. It would have been ugly and embarrassing for both the Eastons and the Kincaids.
“My uncle insisted the affair never be mentioned by any of the parties involved,” Anne said. “Uncle Arthur even threatened to cut off my father’s income if he so much as breathed a word, much less ever took up with your mother again.”
“If no one was ever to speak of it, how did you find out?” Lia asked, putting her glass down on the table.
“A few years after it occurred, I overheard my parents fighting over the fact that Uncle Arthur wanted Jack to spend his school holidays with him at Stonefell. My mother wanted Jack at home with her. She feared exposure to your grandmother would be morally harmful, given . . .” Anne hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “The past history with the Kincaids. My father told her that her reaction was overwrought, and that he had no intention of giving in to her ridiculous fears.”
Lia felt sick to her stomach. “How awful for her.”
“Afterward, I heard her weeping in her room. When I went to console her, she made me swear on the family Bible that I would never breathe a word about the affair to Jack.” She shook her head. “Believe me, I have often regretted making that vow.”
“But telling Jack would have engaged his sympathy, would it not? He’s very close to her.”
“You must understand that my mother’s dignity had been stripped away over the years and she couldn’t abide the notion that Jack might pity her. Or that he would know the full extent of her humiliation at our father’s hands.” Anne gave Lia a sad smile. “And Mother didn’t want Jack to have to choose between his parents. I think she feared he would choose Papa over her, which would have been devastating.”
“Jack is nothing like his father,” Lia said quietly. “Surely Lady John realizes that.”
“Rationally, she does. But her heart is still afraid—even more so now.”
“Because of me.” It was hard for Lia to speak calmly, given the horrible, heavy lump in the center of her chest.
When Anne nodded, Lia sighed. “What is it you wish me to do, my lady? Should I tell Jack about this, or simply make it clear that I can have no relationship with him beyond casual friendship?”
Surprisingly, Anne shook her head. “My dear, that is not for me to decide. As I told Jack, your lives are your own to do with as you wish. I know how important you are to him and I have no desire to stand in the way
of his happiness—if, in fact, being with you would make him happy. But I thought you should know the full extent of the challenges facing you, including the social and financial consequences.” Her brows arched in a knowing look. “And aside from whatever form of relationship that might be between you.”
Lia mentally winced. It would appear Jack had not expressly told his sister that he’d made her an offer of marriage, which suggested a degree of hesitancy on his part. She didn’t blame him. He’d have to be a complete dolt to think he could marry her without significant repercussions.
“I understand,” she said, “and I thank you for being so frank with me. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you.”
Anne gave her a wry smile, once again displaying the easy charm she shared with her brother. Lia’s heart was full of regret at the lost opportunity of friendship as the girls they’d been or the women they’d become.
“No, it wasn’t,” said Anne. “But I thought you deserved to know the truth, as sorry as I was to have to tell you.”
“It’s a shock, I admit. But no blame could possibly attach to you or to your mother.”
Anne fleetingly reached out a hand, then pulled it back to her lap. “You’re very generous, Lia. I wish—” She broke off and shook her head.
“You’re not to worry,” Lia said. “I know exactly what to do.”
A bleak certainty had settled over her. Someone had to atone for all the damage to the Easton family, especially to the women. And that someone was going to be Lia.
* * *
After unceremoniously dumping Gillian on her husband, Jack stalked toward the river, where his sister and Lia sat near a pair of large oaks. A stranger would find it a charming scene—two pretty young ladies dressed in pastel summer gowns and frilly, stylish hats, drinking lemonade and chatting in the dappled sunlight. It couldn’t possibly be more genteel.
And yet Jack knew better. The carefully blank look on Lia’s face signaled distress. Even though Anne had said she’d support whatever decision he made about Lia, she’d told him in no uncertain terms that he’d be a lunatic to throw away his life by marrying her. At that point, he’d bluntly told Anne to mind her own business or risk facing his wrath. That threat had worked as well as one could expect—which was to say not at all. His sister was just as stubborn as he was, a trait inherited from their mother.
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