Neil moved out through one of the three doors which had been flung open to the day. Will was with him, and talking swiftly with a third man, a stranger. The stranger was dressed in proper afternoon wear. He was a swarthy man, with a thick black beard. He was about the same age as Neil, Emma thought. The trim of his beard, the details of his clothes, made her think he was European—perhaps from farther east than Prussia.
“Good lord…I think that is Kosta,” Dane breathed.
“Kosta?” Sharla asked him.
“Prince Konstantin of…somewhere. He was in the lower school when I was at Eton. Will and he would have been in the same year, I think.”
“That might explain why he’s here, then,” Raymond said, as they all watched the well-dressed prince.
Lilly gave a soft sigh, which was more of a moan than an exhalation.
“Raymond, quickly!” Bridget cried, as Lilly sagged to the ground, her eyes closed and her face paper white.
Chapter Ten
I apologize once more for intruding upon your family affair,” Prince Konstantin said, as he plucked the glass of brandy from the tray Travers held out to him. He nodded his thanks to Travers and looked around the library.
When Konstantin had requested a word with Lilly and Jasper, almost everyone had stepped inside with them. Emma was surprised to see the entire family had coalesced around the small group standing in the middle of the croquet court, as if they had beckoned them.
Perhaps they had. Jasper’s dash across the court to scoop up Lilly from Raymond’s arms had made heads turn, including the prince’s. That was when he had asked if he might speak to them.
When Jasper, not Neil, suggested in a tone which brooked no argument, that the fewest people necessary should accompany them, Vaughn and Rhys had both stepped forward. Then Natasha and Annalies and Elisa, all with their chins lifted, defying anyone to protest.
Jasper looked at Emma. “You, too, Emma,” he said softly.
Her belly cramped. She nodded.
Everyone moved into the library and found seats or ranged around the back of the tight group gathered about the prince. Neil stood to one side as the acting lord of Innesford. Morgan was one of those to step through the door. When Jasper glared at him, he stared back, as if he was willing him to dispute his presence in the library.
Jasper instead settled Lilly on the sofa, her back against Jasper’s chest, her hand in his. Lilly shivered and looked as though she had a fever. The prince’s gaze settled on her as he apologized for the second time.
Then his gaze shifted to Emma.
She drew a sharp breath. Why would he be interested in her?
“It might be best if you explain yourself as quickly as possible, Your Highness,” Papa Vaughn said, his voice firm. “Your presence alone is disturbing. We would have you tell us what business you have with the family.”
Papa Vaughn was the oldest man in the room, and was speaking on behalf of everyone, for there were nods from many of them.
Emma’s head throbbed. She wanted to leave and go to her room, away from whatever was about to be said, but could not bring her feet to move.
Konstantin nodded. “It might help if I announce another of my titles. There are eleven minor titles still attached to the principality, most of them European. There is one English title. Marquis of Blackawton.”
Lilly closed her eyes and turned her face into Jasper’s shoulder. His hand tightened upon hers. He did not shift his gaze from the prince’s face. His expression was implacable. Perhaps, even deadly.
Mama Elisa and Vaugh, Raymond, and even Aunt Natasha all drew in sharp breaths at the name.
Dread pressed against Emma’s chest.
Konstantin nodded. “I can see the name has meaning to you. That is why I am here.”
No one spoke. Even Papa Vaughn looked as though he might throttle the man. Aunt Annalies clutched at Rhys’ arm, as if she was holding him back. His jaw worked. His face was a bleak slab, the high cheekbones standing out more than usual.
Konstantin cleared his throat and sipped the brandy. He put the glass down on the desk he stood in front of. “Very well…” he murmured. “Are you familiar with the antecedents of the minor title?”
“Are you asking if we knew the previous Marquis?” Vaughn said. “Because we did not, outside of the most superficial interactions during the Season. He was thought to be a Russian agent and died sabotaging a regiment. As he was without an heir, the title passed on to a remote cousin in Europe. Your family, clearly. What has this to do with us?”
The prince nodded. “Yes, that is the public story.” He had a mild accent, which made his words precise. “When Albus Thorburn died in 1860, the title passed on to his mother’s family. It came to my father, Branislav, and was all but forgotten. Then, a year later, the rumors about Blackawton’s Russian sympathies reached Abdülaziz, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. The principality of Pandev is part of Macedonia, which falls within the Sultan’s purview.”
Konstantin grimaced. “Abdülaziz is an Anglophile. He was educated here, as many of the royal family are.” He paused. “Abdülaziz also considers Russia to be his greatest enemy. When he learned of the disgrace to the title, I believe he was afraid the stain would besmirch his Empire, which would pit Queen Victoria against him. The last thing he wanted was to earn the enmity of the British Empire. In order to off-set the disgrace, he stripped my father of his estate and six eastern titles. The estate, the lands, all the public holdings were folded into the Empire.”
“He let your father keep his title?” Raymond asked. “Why?”
“It was a threat, clothed as a bribe,” Konstantin said, his tone bleak. “As long as my father did not dispute the Emperor, if he did not publicly reveal the reason for the family’s disgrace and the Emperor’s wrath, then he could keep the title and income.” Konstantin paused. “He was already an old man, and the scandal pulled the life from him. We moved to Constantinople and lived as commoners. My father was never the same. He died last year.”
No one spoke.
Konstantin nodded, as if that was all he expected. “I, of course, knew nothing of this until my father died. I have abided by the Emperor’s conditions. Nothing has been made public. Still, I would know the truth of the affair which drained my father’s life, and made my mother a recluse.” His gaze shifted around the room.
“And again, I repeat,” Vaughn said heavily, “what has this to do with us?”
Konstantin didn’t seem offended by Vaughn’s irritated tone. “I knew the answer laid here, in England, where Thorburn died. I employed an investigator, Ignatius Pollaky, to look into how Thorburn died. He located the officer who shot Thorburn, after Thorburn had destroyed the battalion’s armaments store and wounded his fellow officers. A former Captain Shore.”
Emma stood at the end of the sofa where Lilly laid, and was perhaps the only person to hear her quick catch of breath, smothered against Jasper’s shoulder.
“Pollaky interviewed Shore, who confirmed the public account. That might have ended the matter, except that Pollaky is rather good at his work. He reported to me at my hotel in London, with what he had found.” Konstantin reached for the brandy, sipped, and returned it to the desk.
No one else moved.
“Pollaky pointed out to me that there is a complete absence of corroborating proof about that night. Everything was burned to a crisp. The police accepted the explanation that the battalion’s major gave them. So, he investigated a little further and learned the former major of the battalion was a Jasper Thomsett, who, around the same time, emerged into society as the son of a Danish archduke, to take up his inheritance in Northallerton.”
Jasper’s gaze was blank and steady, as he stared at the prince.
“It still means nothing, until you add the final fact: That Major Thomsett married the daughter of the man Albus Thorburn shot in a duel, seven years before,” Konstantin added. “That is the fact which interested Pollacky…and I, too.” His gaze settled on Lilly and
Jasper.
Natasha moved closer to Raymond, who pulled her against him.
Emma’s heart thudded heavily. Her head pounded.
“Sheer coincidence,” Vaughn said heavily. His voice was hoarse.
“There is another coincidence which seems disconnected, but curious,” Konstantin said softly. His gaze shifted to Emma. “You, Lord Farleigh, adopted an infant daughter late in the same year Thorburn purportedly killed Seth Williams, the Earl of Innesford.”
“He did kill him. I witnessed it,” Rhys said, his voice as strained as Vaughn’s.
Konstantin’s gaze didn’t shift from Emma. She stirred uneasily and felt a hand against the back of her waist. Morgan.
“The final coincidence, the one which connects them all, is that Lady Lillian joined your household as a governess, Lord Farleigh, the same year you adopted the girl child Emma.” His gaze did not waver from Emma’s face.
She trembled.
“I think that is quite enough,” Raymond said. “As you pointed out, there is an absence of anything resembling proof. You are disturbing everyone with these useless conjectures, and for no reason.”
“One reason,” Konstantin said softly. “I want to learn the truth. I believe you who are in this room know what the truth is. The matter does not have to go beyond these walls. It cannot. Abdülaziz is friends with Queen Victoria now, and she stands at his shoulder when he faces Russia. He will not jeopardize the loss of Britain as an ally. If any of this scandal was to emerge in public once more, reminding people of the Blackawton association with Russia, Abdülaziz will make good on his promise and destroy what remains of my family.”
“Then let it remain buried,” Jasper said. “Why upset everyone with this useless search?”
I want the truth! The thought shouted in Emma’s mind. She thought she could see the shape of it from the tantalizing hints the prince had laid out, but not the details. Only, it seemed that whatever terrorized Lilly was to do with her. This was Emma’s past the prince wanted to learn. So did she.
She understood why Konstantin wanted the facts so badly. Only, she did not have the courage to demand the truth as he was doing, for Lilly shuddered against Jasper, her distress a palpable thing.
Konstantin’s gaze shifted to Jasper. “Emma wants to know, too,” he said softly. “Look at her.”
Jasper’s voice was cold. “Sometimes the truth is worse than the lie which covers it. Give up your quest, Prince. You will not like what you find if you persist.”
Emma shuddered.
The silence gripped the room. No one moved. No one appeared to be anything but resolute in their determination to repel Konstantin and refuse his request to reveal the secret he wanted.
“I see.” Konstantin looked at Neil. “I really must go. I have a prior appointment I have only just recalled, so I must decline your invitation to dine with you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I’ll have Travers bring your hat and cane,” Neil said, moving to the library door.
Konstantin followed him but halted after a few paces and looked around the room once more. He met their gazes, his own steady. “You really have nothing to fear from me,” he said quietly. “You are protecting each other. Protecting the family. That is all I am trying to do, too. I want to know if the secret at the heart of this matter might still reach out and hurt me and mine, as it has once already.” He turned back to the door, then paused. His voice very low, he said, “Everything I have learned since coming here seems to hint that my family has done a disservice to yours. I would make amends, if I only knew what that disservice was.”
He gave a short bow of the head and strode from the room, while Neil held the door open for him.
The door shut once more, and Raymond blew out his breath as Natasha leaned against him with a soft sigh.
Everyone else relaxed.
“He seemed very…sincere,” Annalies remarked.
Vaughn said, “Morgan, please take Emma away. We must discuss this and make plans.”
“No!” Emma cried. “I want to know, too!”
Vaughn’s face was troubled. “I know you do, Emma. Surely you have learned enough by now to understand that this is not something which can be freely shared?”
“It is about me, is it not?”
“Morgan…” Vaughn said softly.
“Why can I not know?” Emma demanded, as Morgan’s hand tightened around her waist and pulled her toward the door. “Is it not my right to know?”
“You would demand the truth at the cost of ruining someone’s life,” Vaughn said bleakly. “Be content with the little you have.”
“Come, Emma,” Morgan said softly. “You will learn nothing more here.”
She recognized that he was right and let him draw her to the door. Vaughn followed them to the door and shut it behind them.
Emma whirled to Morgan. “Why would they not tell me?” she hissed.
He glanced around the hall, looking for observers. “Not here,” he said softly. “Let’s find a place to talk.”
THE MIGHTY OLD OAK STOOD a hundred feet inside the woodlands north of the house, behind the stables and domestic gardens. Ever since she could remember, there had been a beaten, smooth path winding through the woods to this tree. She had climbed it as a child and now she sat upon one mighty exposed root, her hands working together.
Morgan sat beside her, for it was the only available perch, other than the soft earth itself.
“It is clear enough to me,” Emma said. “I think…I fear…this man Albus Thorburn…I think he may be my father, Morgan.”
Morgan drew in a breath and let it out. “That is my suspicion, too,” he admitted, his voice heavy.
“Then why not simply tell me that?” Emma said. “I do not understand why they insist upon hiding it away with such…such dread. I already know the worst of it. I know Lilly is my mother and that I am a bastard. What could possibly be worse?”
Morgan shifted on the root, so he could look at her directly. “Perhaps you, like the prince, are better off not knowing. Inside the family, we do as we please, we judge no one for discarding society standards if their actions do not harm others…but perhaps something in this story would harm others. It already has. Seth’s death is bound up in this.”
Emma smoothed the gabardine over her knees. She could almost see the whole of it. It was there for her to glimpse, just out of reach. “I ache to know,” she whispered. “Only, Lilly is terrified, and that makes me hesitate…”
“Then leave it be,” Morgan said, getting to his feet. “Did you not promise Mairin and Bridget return matches?”
“Don’t you want to know the truth, Morgan?” Emma asked, looking up at him.
In the thick, shadowy canopy, his features were dim, but clear. The aquiline nose, the jut of hair. The long line of his body. He had not discarded his jacket and rolled up his sleeves as so many of the men did at the gather, where no one would be shocked.
“I don’t need to know,” he said, his voice deep and convincing. “No matter what the truth might be, it would not change the way I feel about you by a single inch.” He held out his hand. “Come along.”
Was that why it was a secret? Would the truth change the way people felt about her? Emma shuddered and reached quickly for his hand.
He pulled her to her feet. “It is in the past,” he said quietly. “Leave it there, Emma.” His gaze was steady.
“I cannot leave it be,” she said truthfully. “You’re not a bastard or an orphan. You know your parents. You know your past. You cannot understand what it is like to not know who you are. To not be accepted because of it.”
“The family accepts you. You are blood kin, in fact, not simply adopted, as you have believed all your life. They rallied in the library just now, and stood in front of you, a complete shield. Why do you need anyone else? You would stir up trouble just to satisfy your curiosity?”
Stung, Emma said, “See? You don’t understand at all. I was a fool to think that telling you
would help. Go back to your peace and quiet, Morgan.” She skirted past him and trod the worn path. When he did not call her back, her irritation grew.
So did her awareness that in this matter, she was very much alone.
Again.
Chapter Eleven
Aweek after Will’s family returned to Kirkaldy after the conclusion of the gather, Emma received a letter from the Highlands Council.
Dear Mr. E. Wardell;
This letter is to inform you that your status as a resident within the borders of the Highlands Council has been confirmed. We are pleased to advise that you have been added to the roll of voters and are permitted to register your preferences in next year’s local council elections.
With kindest regards,
John Sampson Billings
Electoral Registrar, Highlands Council Administration.
Emma choked on her tea. She put the cup down and reached for her napkin to blot her mouth. She held the napkin in place and re-read the letter.
“Emma, what is it?” Bridget asked, from the other side of the breakfast table. “Your eyes are as big as farthings.”
Emma turned the letter over, then checked the envelope once more. “There has clearly been a mistake. I cannot vote…”
“What?” Bridget breathed.
Will lowered his newspaper. Morgan looked up from his broadsheet.
“Vote?” Will said sharply.
“Here, read it yourself. I don’t mind,” Emma said. She held the letter out to him.
Will didn’t reach for it.
“May I?” Morgan asked, holding out his hand.
Emma hesitated. Then she thrust it at him. “Perhaps you can explain it,” she said stiffly.
He turned the page around and read the stiff, formal handwriting. “It is the council letterhead, right enough,” he said. “I don’t believe this is a joke.”
“What is?” Will asked patiently.
Morgan glanced at him and lifted the letter. “Emma has been added to the election roll for next year’s local election. They seem to believe she is a man, which is why the mistake happened, I suspect.”
Year of Folly Page 11
