Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AMANDA STARED, trying to breathe with composure.
This was her mother—the woman who had dealt her the ultimate blow.
The anguish Dulcea had caused, which Amanda had thought successfully vanquished, surged forth, briefly paralyzing her.
She had been anticipating this encounter, but she had never dreamed it would be tonight.
“I am your mother,” Dulcea repeated softly. Her regard was intent.
“No,” Amanda finally said, firmly. She held her head high, terribly glad she was wearing the jewelry Cliff had given her and the diamonds, which belonged to the countess.
She could not think clearly, perhaps because her heart was racing with such alarming speed.
But Amanda knew one thing. She must not allow her mother to ever learn that she had caused her so much grief.
“I have no mother. I have never had a mother. I had a father, but he is dead.” She fought emotions which seemed determined to arise. “Let us not pretend for a single moment that we are mother and daughter.” Amanda pressed back against the wall. “We are not.”
Dulcea gasped. “That is unkind!” But her gaze was moving over Amanda from head to toe. She kept looking up at the diamond and pearl tiara.
It was another moment before Amanda could speak.
“No, Lady Belford, I believe you are the unkind one.” Amanda told herself to turn and walk away.
There need not be any kind of discussion at all.
Not far was a billiards room, where ladies and gentlemen were engaged in conversation and games.
She could go there and mingle. But she could not make herself walk away, and she began to shake.
“I came here after my father’s death to find you.
It was Papa’s dying wish! Do you think I wanted to leave the island?
Do you think I ever once believed you would welcome me?
But I could not refuse my father. How dare you accuse me of being unkind? ”
Finally, Dulcea’s stare was unwavering upon Amanda’s face. “I was beyond shocked when de Warenne notified me that you were at Harmon House. Amanda, we must discuss this so that you can understand my side, but privately, please. Let’s step outside.”
“There is nothing to discuss,” Amanda managed, very close to horrific tears.
Why would she wish to cry now? Surely she was beyond the hurt her mother’s rejection had caused her.
But her feet would not respond to the directions given by her mind and she simply stood there, unmoving, staring and finally taking stock of her mother.
This was the woman who had given birth to her and then so carelessly given her up. She had finally met Mama; Mama, who had refused to accept her.
“Don’t you want to hear my side?” Dulcea cried, reaching for her hand.
Amanda shrugged, pulling away, but she was shaken. Did she want to hear what her mother had to say?
“This has been a wonderful night for you,” Dulcea said softly, smiling now. “Clearly, you are a great success. I am proud of you, Amanda. So terribly proud.”
Amanda trembled. “No, you’re not. This is a pretense! You do not care about me and you never have.” Her mother’s words hurt.
“That’s not true,” Dulcea gasped. “Of course I care about you! Don’t you want to know the truth—the entire truth?”
Amanda hesitated. As dazed as she was, her instincts screamed at her in alarm, telling her to walk away from this woman.
This woman still had the power to hurt her the way almost no one else could.
But she was leaving England as soon as possible and she would never see Dulcea Belford again.
Shouldn’t she discover what had happened two months ago—and eighteen years ago?
If she did not do so now, she never would.
“Very well.” Amanda gave her a jerky nod, somehow keeping a few shreds of her composure and her dignity about her. They walked down the hall and stepped outside onto a large terrace. A few couples and groups were taking air, but no one paid them any mind.
“When I realized I was with child, Amanda, I was not even seventeen years old. I was terrified,” Dulcea said quietly when they had removed themselves from the couples on the terrace.
Amanda’s heart accelerated. She could easily imagine how frightened Dulcea must have been. Dulcea had been even younger than she was when she had conceived. “Did you love my father at all?”
Dulcea smiled. “At that time, yes, I did. He was so dashing and handsome in his naval uniform. He had a charisma, Amanda, one that made many young women turn to look at him as he strutted down the street.”
“He never stopped loving you,” Amanda heard herself say. “But you married Belford.” It was an accusation.
“I was beyond fortunate to marry Belford!” Dulcea cried softly.
“Amanda, your father and I knew each other for three weeks and then he set sail. When I realized I was carrying, I didn’t know what to do!
I was so young, and my mother was already introducing me to gentlemen like Belford, men with small fortunes but old lines and significant titles.
As far back as I can recall, I knew that was how I would one day wed.
Marriage has nothing to do with love. I am fortunate to have become so fond of Belford.
” She paused. “Amanda, we were both so young. It wasn’t love, it was passion.
” She hesitated and added, “It was what you are feeling for de Warenne.”
Amanda shook her head. “I have never admired anyone the way I admire Cliff. I will freely admit how I feel about him. He is my hero, my champion and I will love him until the day I die.”
Dulcea’s eyes widened.
“And Papa loved you that way, or almost that way,” she cried. “He raised me on stories of your great beauty, your grace, your elegance and your kindness. He had you on a pedestal. He made certain I should look up to your memory, as well. God, I feel sorry for my father!”
“I didn’t know Carre felt as he did. How could I?” Dulcea retorted. “He never told me! Amanda, I did not come outside to argue with you.”
Amanda blinked in real surprise. Why hadn’t Papa said something?
Dulcea sent her a small, rueful smile. “I am not callous or cold, Amanda. I am a flesh-and-blood woman with a heart, a home, a husband and two children. I assumed Carre forgot me. Why would I assume anything else?”
“I don’t know,” Amanda said slowly. She told herself not to allow herself to soften toward Dulcea, as she could not trust her. She must not trust her. “You said you cared about me, but it’s not true.” It couldn’t be true, she thought.
“It is true! How could I not care about my own daughter? But you were taken away from me the moment you were born. I was seventeen and not given any choice.”
Amanda refused to believe her. “Don’t even try to tell me you would have kept me if you had been given a choice!”
“I wept for days after you were taken away,” Dulcea cried, wiping at her own eyes now. “However, my mother had plans for me to marry well, and I had no intention of defying her. But Amanda, I thought about you frequently and I worried so, especially when I heard Carre had turned pirate.”
Amanda was becoming confused. Dulcea seemed so sincere. But she hadn’t really answered her, either. She hadn’t said that yes, she would have given up a future with a title to raise her daughter.
“Papa loved me and I loved him. He was a good father. You hardly needed to worry.” She would defend her father always, especially to Dulcea. “If you were so worried, why didn’t you write?” she demanded.
“Belford would cast me out if he ever knew about you. I had to keep a safe distance. Surely you understand? My dear, you have had such a difficult life!” Dulcea said. “I am so sorry! I wish it had been different, Amanda. I do.”
Amanda was suddenly furious. “You had a chance to make a difference two months ago, when I came to town. But you did not want me. So you can tell me again and again how you cared and worried, but I will never believe it!”
“Captain de Warenne shocked me when he appeared in my home, announcing that you were in town!”
“He is the one who made all the difference. He rescued me, protected me, provided generously for me, all out of a sense of honor, of nobility. He took me into his home. He provided my dowry. His family has welcomed me with open arms—unlike you,” she exclaimed.
And it became hard to breathe. Her mother had opened a wound she had thought long since healed.
Dulcea’s eyes were wide. “I thought Carre provided the dowry.”
“No, Cliff did so, at his own expense.” Of all the things her mother could have responded to, she had chosen the subject of her dowry.
“Papa never asked him to be my guardian. That is an utter fabrication on his part. When you rejected me, he claimed me as his ward out of the goodness of his heart. He provided my dowry when he did not have to do so, because he swore he would secure my future.” Dulcea had not done any of those things.
Dulcea’s chin lifted. “Is he sleeping with you?”
Amanda backed up, shaking her head in denial, but she felt her cheeks warm. “Our relationship is not your affair,” she managed. “I am not your affair.” Tears were somehow seeping. “He would never behave so dishonorably!”
“He hasn’t tried to seduce you?” Dulcea asked, her regard intent and unwavering.
“No, I tried to seduce him,” Amanda said defiantly. But she was uneasy. She sensed some greater purpose on her mother’s part now. It was as if lie upon lie was being told.
They stared.
“My poor darling,” Dulcea said, taking her hand.
Amanda flinched, wide-eyed. She pulled her hand away. “Don’t you dare offer me sympathy now.”
“I am your mother! You refuse to believe me and I cannot help that, but I know what it is like to fall hopelessly in love. No one will ever blame you for falling for Cliff de Warenne. Half the women in this room would give almost anything, including their reputations, to be his latest paramour. I understand, darling. I do.”