Chapter 48
Summer had come to London in all its first glory.
It was a beautiful day, red robins singing high in the elm trees, the sky blue and cloudless, the day warm enough to go with the thinnest of garments and no coats or wraps.
The bold Dragmore carriage rolled through Hyde Park, pulled by its team of magnificent bays.
The earl and Jane sat side by side, their bodies touching from shoulder to hip to knee.
Nicole was in her mother’s arms, unusually quiet, and Chad sat on the seat facing them, waving to all those they passed and remarking excitedly upon any and everything.
“What a wonderful idea,” Jane said to Nick, her gaze lingering upon his handsome face. She was sure her love for him was easy to read and quite obvious to everyone.
“Governess Randall wasn’t exactly pleased,” the earl said. He had taken Chad from his studies.
“To hell with her,” Jane returned, her manner prim.
The earl laughed and took her hand, squeezing it. “Sshh, not in front of the children.”
Jane made a stricken face, and the earl laughed again. He did not release her hand. Jane settled more comfortably against him. They both ignored the many gaping, gossiping riders and coach passengers whom they passed.
“Papa,” Chad cried excitedly. “Can we go for a ride in a boat?”
They were approaching the lake, and a few rowboats were evident, ladies lounging amid the lace of their dresses and parasols, the men in striped shirtsleeves rolled casually up, rowing steadily.
“I don’t see why not,” the earl replied. He turned to Jane. “It’s up to your mother.”
Jane held his gaze. His words thrilled her, and she impulsively leaned forward to plant a light kiss on his mouth. “Of course it’s all right.”
The earl blushed, looking quite pleased. “Jane,” he said a few moments later, as the carriage stopped in front of the green, shingled boathouse, “do you remember that story I told you last night?”
Jane glanced at him curiously. “Of course I do.”
Chad interrupted, asking if he could go look at the boats. The earl nodded and his son rushed from the carriage. The earl and Jane made no move to follow. He stared at her. “That woman, Jane,” he said. “She is my mother.”
Jane gasped.
“I am the boy.”
Jane stared, her thoughts racing, her grip on his hand tightening instinctively. “Oh, Nicholas, what an awful cross to bear!”
He stared at her.
“Darling,” she cried, using the endearment for the first time, “have you been punishing yourself all these years for something you were not responsible for?” She touched his face.
“It doesn’t bother you?” he asked thickly.
“It hurts me to see you hurt,” she cried. “How could they have told you this terrible story!” She was suddenly furious, as all the implications settled in. This was the dark torment burning in his soul that she had sensed and seen signs of so often.
“They didn’t tell me,” Nick said quietly. “I found out just before I left for the war. They don’t even realize that I know the truth. My father”— and he hesitated—“Derek, I mean, he doesn’t know I found out the truth. That he is not my father, that Chavez is.”
Jane clutched his hand. The hurt in his tone was there, thick and palpable. “Darling, I’m sure he loves you like a son. You are his son! He raised you your entire life.”
“He is a great man,” the earl said.
Jane suddenly, intuitively, understood. “He is your father, Nicholas,” she said stubbornly. “You are the man you are today because of him. You must see him,” she cried. “This is awful, surely he senses something amiss. You must tell him you know!”
“Jane,” the earl said. “You don’t think I am like him?”
Jane knew who “he” was—the Comanchero. “You are kind and good. Don’t you ever say such a thing again!”
“I almost raped you,” he said, very low. “And, God, when you were only seventeen and just a schoolgirl, I wanted you. It was all I could think of. It was depraved.”
She covered his mouth with her palm. “We wanted each other, like men and women do who share the attraction we have for each other. It wasn’t depraved, Nicholas, it was destiny. Our destiny.”
He pulled her into his embrace. “God,” he cried, his face against hers, “what did I do to deserve you?”
“No, Nicholas,” Jane said, threading her fingers through his hair. “It’s the other way around. What did I do to deserve you?”
Their gazes met. His was glistening, but so was hers.
The earl took a deep breath. “Well,” he said, coughing. “Shall we?”
The footman was waiting at a discreet distance. The earl signaled him and let Jane precede him from the carriage. They caught up with Chad and Nick tousled his hair. “Come on, son, you can help me choose a boat.”
“I can?” Chad shouted, thrilled. He ran to the boats, the earl following. He paused to glance back. “Wait here, Jane.” His words were innocuous but his look was not. It was shimmering with deep, deep emotion. “We’ll only be a few minutes.”
Jane nodded. As the earl went to make arrangements, her mind was whirling with the significance of what she had found out.
And with it came the determination to cleanse him forever of his guilt at being Chavez’s son and to help him learn, and believe, that he was the magnificent man he truly was.
And, equally important, she would bring father and son back together again.
Jane was happy. It was the beginning for them all, the first day of the rest of their glorious life together. They would leave the dark past behind. Now was the present, shimmering with love and passion, and awaiting them was the future, its promise even more glorious.
The afternoon upon the lake passed too quickly amid much laughter and affection and camaraderie.
As the Dragmore carriage sped home, Jane found herself imitating Chad, who had fallen asleep on the earl’s left, his head upon his father’s shoulder.
Her own cheek pressed his other shoulder, and her lids were so very heavy.
The earl’s palm stroked her arm, and she started to doze.
“We’re home, darling,” the earl said in her ear. “Chad, wake up, son.”
A sleepy entourage emerged from the carriage, Nicole starting to howl and squirm in Jane’s arms, Chad holding the earl’s hand. Thomas greeted them at the door with Molly, who rushed forward to take Nicole. The butler was as white as death itself.
“Thomas, what’s wrong?” the earl said sharply.
Jane became fully awake, to see that Thomas was in a rare frenzy, eyes popping as if he’d seen a ghost. “My lord,” he cried. “It’s your wife!”
“My wife?” the earl said, glancing at Jane. Jane suddenly pressed closer to the earl, sensing danger.
“Not the lady Jane.” Thomas gasped. “The other one.”
The earl stared, then his eyes narrowed. “You are making no sense, Thomas,” he warned.
“It’s Lady Patricia,” Thomas cried. “She is here!”
“What?”
“She is here, in the parlor, alive—not dead!”
And then a stunning blond woman appeared from behind Thomas, her bearing regal and disdainful. With a glance, she took them all in, Chad, Jane, Nicole and Molly, the earl. “Hello, my lord,” she said coolly.
“My God,” Nick said softly, stunned.
Jane stared at the beautiful woman—his wife. And then the ground came rushing up to meet her and, blessedly, she knew no more.