An Unexpected Kiss (Captivating Kisses #1)

Prologue

London—July 1805

J ulian Watts pressed a cold compress to his mother’s brow. He felt the heat of her fever through the cloth, singeing his fingers. She had been ill for close to two months now, the cough worsening, and the weight falling off her. Weight she didn’t have to spare.

“I will stay home with you,” he said gently.

“No,” she protested weakly. “Mr. Piper is expecting you. You don’t want to ruin your chances of working for him full-time. He is your way out of poverty, Julian.”

He hoped she was right.

At seven and a score, he had worked on the London docks and in one of its warehouse for over a dozen years now, moving heavy cargo, and had the muscles and calluses to show for it. A year ago, however, his mother had sewn a few gowns for a Mrs. Piper, whose husband was a solicitor. Somehow, Mother had convinced Mr. Piper that Julian was the clerk he was looking for, though Mr. Piper already had two clerks working for him. Still, the solicitor had met with Julian and had been impressed, hiring him on as a night clerk.

Nowadays, after putting in a full day laboring with his muscles, Julian reported to Mr. Piper’s offices. Most of the work he did in his second job was reproducing legal documents, such as marriage settlements, in order for all parties involved to have their own copy of the agreements. Mr. Piper thought Julian’s handwriting impeccable, and he’d begun staying late, teaching Julian various things about his business. One of Mr. Piper’s clerks was close to retiring, and the solicitor had told Julian if he were interested, he could assume that position.

Eager to do anything to better himself and help his mother, he had agreed to wait for the slot to open. In the meantime, he worked his usual backbreaking job, grabbing a meal of meat pies from a street vendor before heading to Mr. Piper’s offices. He would get home shortly before midnight and fall into bed, only to repeat the long day after a few hours of sleep.

He didn’t often see his mother due to his long hours, but she left him sweet notes and set out food for him. Despite their infrequent encounters, he saw how rapidly she was declining. Fear of losing her filled him. Instead of reporting to Mr. Piper’s office tonight, he had come home to check on her and found her in terrible shape.

“I could leave you for a while and tell Mr. Piper you are unwell,” he told her. “Then come home and sit with you.”

Her gaze met his. “No,” she said firmly. “I am done, my boy. You must look to your future without me.”

Taking her hand in both of his, he brought it to his heart. “I cannot lose you.”

She shook her head. “I am so tired,” she admitted. “I have felt death coming for me. I am ready for it. You must promise me, Julian, that you will continue with Mr. Piper. Do all you can to move up in the world.”

Suddenly, a choking sound came from her. Alarm filled him. He squeezed her hand tightly, not wanting to ever let go. She was all he knew. The only friend he had. It had always been the two of them against the world.

“I am sorry I could not do more for you,” she apologized, trying to catch her breath.

“Never say that,” he said fiercely. “You sacrificed everything for me.”

A sad smile crossed her face. “You were always my world, Julian. I love you so very much.”

Her eyes closed. He sat on the bed next to her, hearing her labored breathing, knowing no doctor could help her. Not that they could afford one. The poor did without many things, and that included medical assistance.

He listened as her breathing slowed, his heart aching, and then it ceased. For a moment, all seemed well. She looked at peace. It was almost as if the corners of her mouth turned up in a slight smile. While she was still warm, he kissed her brow, then he took her hands and placed them atop one another on her chest.

“I love you,” he said, grief sweeping through him, mingled with frustration, knowing he had not been able to save her. “I will do my all to be the best person I can be. For you.”

Rising, he felt hot tears spill down his cheeks. Already, an emptiness filled him, knowing how alone he now was. He would go directly to Mr. Piper and explain what had happened. He knew the solicitor would allow him to miss work for a few days in order to handle the burial arrangements and mourn his mother’s passing.

Before he left, though, he went to the chest his mother called a bottom drawer. In it, she kept a few treasured mementos from her girlhood, along with her sewing patterns and lists of clients, including their measurements. Inside it was a small, lidded box that contained their combined earnings. He hadn’t a clue how much it would cost to bury her and worried what he would do if the box did not contain enough coin to do so.

She was the one who always put aside their meager earnings. Julian almost felt as if he invaded her personal property as he opened the chest. He found the box and removed it but noticed a small bundle of parchment tied together with a ribbon. Curious, he pulled it out as well, wondering whom his mother might have corresponded with. From the little he knew, her family had disowned her when she became with child, tossing her out on the street. Julian had never asked who his father might be, and she had never revealed the name to him. He had supposed either the man was already married or that when she told him of the coming child, he had abandoned her.

Opening the box first, he counted what was within, knowing how careful she had been with their savings. His gut told him it wasn’t enough. Anger simmered through him, knowing how hard the both of them worked and how little they received for their efforts. Julian refused to put her in a pauper’s grave. Perhaps Mr. Piper might give him an advancement on his salary so that he might bury his mother in a proper fashion.

Setting aside the box, he picked up the bundle and untied the ribbon. Though it seemed wrong to read what was there, he hoped it might give him insight into her past—and where he came from.

As he read the first letter, his belly twisted.

Miss Watts –

I cannot have you come here again to my parents’ house, even to pass along a letter. You could cost me everything. I regret to hear there is to be a child. It is most unfortunate.

I will meet you in the usual place tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock to discuss this matter.

The brief note was unsigned, but Julian knew his father had written it.

Who had he been? What had he been like? From the wording, he gathered his father had been of a different, better class than his mother, who had been a tailor’s daughter.

Hesitating a moment, he set aside the note and opened the second one, wondering what it might reveal. This time, it bore no declaration or signature, but he assumed it was for his mother since she had kept it. He recognized the same hand that had written this note.

You have what you want. The marriage will allow you not to bear a bastard, but you know I can never claim him, much less you. Speak of it to no one. I advise you to call yourself Mrs. Watts and style yourself a widow.

I have paid three months’ rent on the place I took you to after the ceremony. It is all I can give you. I leave now for my Grand Tour and expect to be gone the requisite three to four years. When I return, I will live my life—and expect never to see nor hear from you again.

The coldness in the tone struck Julian more than anything. Obviously, his mother had somehow met a young man from the aristocracy, and they had engaged in a brief affair. He was the result of their liaison. How heartless, though, for his father to have brushed aside his mother, leaving her alone, soon to bear a child, without family or even a single friend to aid her.

The last piece of parchment was larger. He unfolded it and saw it was, indeed, a marriage certificate. His mother’s name was displayed, as well as that of Henry Barrington. The name meant nothing to him, but it gave him slight satisfaction to know he was not the bastard he had always thought he was. Still, he wanted nothing to do with the stranger who had gotten his mother with child and then blithely went off to sow his wild oats in Europe.

Julian left their rented room and hurried to Mr. Piper’s offices. Using his key, he let himself in since he arrived long after the other two clerks had ended their day. He did spy a light coming from his employer’s office, though, and made his way there, hesitating a moment at the open door.

Looking up, Mr. Piper said, “Ah, Julian. Do come in. I have some—”

“My mother is dead,” he said flatly.

The solicitor’s concern for him was immediately obvious. Mr. Piper rose. “My dear boy. I am so sorry to hear of your loss.” He patted Julian on the back. “How can I help?”

“I don’t know if I have enough to cover the costs of her burial,” he admitted. “Is it possible to receive an advance on my salary? I won’t place her in a pauper’s grave.”

“No, you cannot do so. I agree. Tell me what you have done so far.”

He raked his hands through his hair. “Nothing. I arrived home, going there instead of straight here, because she had been so poorly yesterday. She was quite ill, Mr. Piper, but ready to meet her Maker. I have no idea what to do next.”

“I can help with things, Julian,” Mr. Piper said in a soothing tone.

“She was married,” he blurted out, surprising himself. “I mean, she pretended to be a widow. Mrs. Watts. But there never was a Mr. Watts.”

Frustration filled him, and the story spilled from him. The discovery of the two letters. The marriage certificate.

“I hate him,” he said. “My father. He was in a position to help her. Instead, he ignored her.”

Mr. Piper looked thoughtful. “But you say he wed her? There is proof of that?”

“Yes. Much good it’ll do her now. She struggled her entire life. Cut off from her family for the transgression of bearing a child out of wedlock. Worked her fingers to the bone, especially when she sent me to school. She insisted I go. That I must learn to read and write and grasp maths.”

“She was right to do so, Julian. I know you have done physical labor your entire life, but you have a fine mind, especially for numbers. I am happy your mother and my wife came into contact, else I would never have met you. I was going to tell you I am ready to hire you on permanently, beginning next week, but I am curious now as to your parentage.”

He glared at the solicitor. “I want nothing to do with my birth father,” he said angrily.

“Calm yourself,” instructed Mr. Piper. “Let me come home with you now. I will assist you in handling matters.”

Regret filled him, seeing how kind his employer was being. “I apologize for my outburst, sir. I was taught better manners than that.”

The solicitor placed a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “You have just lost your beloved mother. No apologies are necessary.”

They returned to the tiny flat. Mr. Piper had assured Julian during the hansom cab ride over that the burial costs would be handled. When the solicitor looked over the marriage license and notes, he nodded to himself.

“We should summon the undertaker now. Do you have a gown you’d like for your mother to be buried in?”

Mr. Piper left Julian, saying he would see that the undertaker arrived shortly, and took the correspondence and license with him, instructing Julian to go to the docks first thing in the morning to quit his job.

“With no notice?” he asked.

“Tell them your mother has passed,” the solicitor advised. “Ask for any wages due you. If those in authority are reluctant to give those to you, use my name. When you have done so, come to my offices afterward.”

An hour later, the undertaker arrived, taking with him the gown Julian had set aside for the burial. He mentioned to Julian that Mr. Piper would help to arrange services for Mrs. Watts on the morrow.

Julian fell into a restless sleep, awakening at his usual hour of four. The room was silent except for the squeaking of a small mouse, which he chased away. It was the first day of his life without his mother in it, and sadness permeated him.

He did as his employer had requested, however, explaining his mother had passed the previous evening and asking for the wages due him. When the dock foreman tried to put him off, Julian tossed in Mr. Piper’s name. Apparently, the solicitor was known to the man. Miraculously, he was told to report to the warehouse offices, where he received what he was owed.

That took a few hours, however, and by the time he reported to Mr. Piper’s offices, it was half-past nine. The solicitor was out on business, and Julian was told by his clerk to wait.

When Mr. Piper arrived, he was in good spirits, asking for Julian to accompany him to his office. There, the solicitor explained he had been to the parish church listed on the certificate and had asked to see their registry.

“I found the lawful marriage recorded between your mother and Mr. Henry Barrington.”

Puzzled, he asked, “Why would you do so?”

Eyes gleaming, Mr. Piper said, “We are going to right a terrible wrong today, Julian. We are going to see your father.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I want nothing to do with him.”

“Ah, but I think you will,” Mr. Piper said mysteriously. “Humor me. But first, we shall call upon a colleague of mine.”

Knowing he had quit his job and that his only one would be with Mr. Piper, Julian decided to go along. It didn’t mean they would actually see his father. The man had never wanted contact with his son, and he doubted they would be able to see this Barrington.

They called at the offices of a Mr. Welby. Mr. Piper asked Julian to wait in the hansom cab, and a quarter-hour later, both men returned. Mr. Piper introduced Julian, and he noted the other solicitor studied him with open curiosity.

“The very image,” Welby muttered, and nodded to himself. “Well, let us do this.”

They went to an area of London Julian had never seen before. Elegant homes lined the streets. Mr. Welby mentioned the area was called Mayfair, and Julian knew this was where the wealthiest of London’s citizens resided.

The cab turned into a large square. Three huge townhouses sat on it, two opposite one another with a small park in between, and another at the far corner. The driver drove to that residence, where Mr. Piper paid the driver but asked him to wait for them.

Feeling terribly out of place as they moved to the door, Julian wanted to return to the hansom cab. He wore his usual clothes, that of a dock worker, and saw the odd look the butler gave him as he spoke with Mr. Welby.

The butler admitted them, however, and led them up a grand staircase. Julian clamped his mouth shut to keep from gaping at the marble floor and beautiful paintings on the wall. They moved along a corridor with thick carpeting and furnishings the likes he had never seen. When they reached the end, the butler had them wait inside an anteroom.

“Are we going to see him?” he asked nervously, wishing he were back outside. Or back unloading a ship. Anywhere but here, a world so unfamiliar to him.

“Yes. It is important you do this, Julian,” Mr. Piper said firmly.

“He must see you,” Mr. Welby agreed. “Your future depends upon it.”

Before he could question what that meant, the butler appeared again, grim-faced. “You may come in. Dr. Wheeler is with him.” He opened the door and stepped inside the bedchamber, ushering them inside a bedchamber four times the size of the room Julian and his mother had lived in.

The two solicitors entered first, with Julian bringing up the rear. Immediately, the stench of death hit him, and he thought of the irony of both his parents passing within a day of one another.

Yet glancing at the bed, he saw the man in it—and he was alive. Barely. Propped up with pillows behind him, his skin was sallow, his eyes burning bright from fever.

Julian’s feet propelled him closer, and his gaze locked on that of a man he had only just learned about and yet despised with every fiber of his being. Henry Barrington, a name he would never forget.

“Bloody hell . . .”

Though the words he rasped were weak, Julian heard the wonder in the man’s tone.

He stopped next to the bed, rage filling him. “I have no sympathy for you,” he uttered. “I only learned of you because my mother just passed.”

Barrington winced. “Ah, so she is gone.” He swallowed. “Your mother was an angel.”

“She was,” he agreed. “Far too good for the likes of you.”

“I see you inherited none of her gentleness. Nor her looks.” Barrington paused. “Do not look so surprised. You are obviously my son. I was hale and hardy as you thirty years ago. Saw your mother when I visited my tailor and wanted her from that very moment. She was so beautiful. Kind. Unassuming.”

“You put a babe in her belly and then ran off like a coward,” Julian accused, not mincing words.

Sighing, the man in the bed nodded. “I agree. I am despicable. I was young. Foolish. Cowed by my own father. He never would have accepted such a woman as my wife.”

“And yet you wed her,” he said.

Barrington closed his eyes for a long moment. Julian thought he might be dead. Then he opened them again.

“I did. It was important to her. She wanted none of my wealth. Only a name for you. Even then, I advised her to use her own.”

“She did. I am a Watts. And proud of it. We did just fine without you.”

“I had three other wives,” Barrington lamented. “None of them legal marriages, of course, but they were none the wiser. All barren. That was my punishment for leaving your mother. For not standing up to my father and making things right. At least you found me. I was too spineless to ever seek you out.”

Mr. Welby stepped forward. “My lord, the moment I saw this young man, I knew he was yours.” He indicated his fellow solicitor. “Mr. Piper has shown me the marriage certificate, and the marriage has been confirmed by the church registry. Julian is your legal heir.”

Barrington sighed. “I affirm everything. The marriage. The birth. My heir.”

Julian’s mind whirled. “What... what do you mean?”

“Too tired,” Barrington murmured. “Tell him . . . everything.”

With that, his father took a final breath and fell still.

The doctor stepped forward, checking his patient. “I am afraid his lordship is no longer with us.”

“You will attest to his deathbed confession if we have need of your testimony?” asked Mr. Piper.

“Of course.” Dr. Wheeler looked at the butler. “Grigsby here will do so, as well.”

Julian stared open-mouthed, no words coming to him.

Mr. Welby said, “You are now Julian Barrington, only heir to the Marquess of Aldridge. You will inherit his lordship’s title and holdings.”

Dumbfounded, he could only stare at Welby.

Mr. Piper clasped Julian’s elbow. “I know this is a lot to take in, my lord.”

Shrugging off the man, he said, “I am not a lord. Not a marquess. I refuse to take part in such a sham.”

Mr. Welby cleared his throat. “I am afraid there is no choice in the matter, my lord. I knew the minute I saw you that you were the marquess’ son. With the proof in hand, not to mention Lord Aldridge’s acknowledgment, you are the recognized heir. This disclosure will be made public, and you will need to take your seat in the House of Lords.”

“House of Lords! This is balderdash,” Julian declared.

Sympathy filled Mr. Piper’s eyes. “This is who you are, my lord. Though it is difficult for you to understand, you are the rightful heir.”

“But he never acknowledged me. Or Mother,” he protested. “I can’t take anything from a man I despised.”

“Whether you loathe him or not, you are still the Marquess of Aldridge, my lord,” Mr. Welby insisted. “And you wouldn’t be the first member of the ton to despise his father.”

“No more struggling,” Mr. Piper said gently. “You have a title. Property. Wealth.”

“Yes, all of that,” Mr. Welby encouraged. “This London townhouse. Aldridge Park in Surrey, which is south of Guildford, about thirty-five miles from town. I can meet with you to discuss your investments. Your holdings.”

“This is madness!” cried Julian. “Why, I am wearing one of two sets of clothing I possess. I rarely eat enough to fill my belly. I can’t be a lord.”

“But you are,” Mr. Piper insisted. “I will, along with Mr. Welby, guide you, but you have responsibilities now, my lord.”

“Yes,” Mr. Welby insisted. “Aldridge Hall has a good number of tenants you’ll need to look after.”

He grew nauseous. “So, I’m to sweep away the past. Forget where I came from. This is my world now?”

“Yes, my lord,” both solicitors replied in unison.

Head spinning, Julian asked, “Where is he to be buried?”

“Why, in Surrey,” Mr. Welby said. “All Barringtons are buried in the churchyard there.”

Determination filled him. “Then I want both my parents buried there, side-by-side. And Mother’s tombstone will be engraved with Lady Barrington on it,” he demanded. “She might not have lived the life of a marchioness, but she deserves what is rightfully hers.”

“I will see that happens, my lord,” Mr. Welby said. Looking to the butler, the solicitor said, “Grigsby, gather the staff. It is time they met the new Lord Aldridge.”

From that moment, Julian knew his life was divided—into before he had become a marquess…

And what came from now on.