Chapter 19 #2
“What changed?” I asked. “He treated her as a servant. Worse than at times, I believe.”
“Not long after my mistress passed, he discovered something.” She placed the small linen-covered bundle on my desk. “Something I will entrust to you, my lord.”
I opened the linen, lifting two small leatherbound books. Opening one, I saw the feminine penmanship and a name written on the first page.
“These are Lady Wheaton’s mother’s journals?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And how do you have them in your possession?”
She lifted her chin, meeting my eyes. “I stole them from the baron’s desk. He kept them in a hidden drawer.”
“Why?” I queried. “Why did you take them? For Lady Wheaton?”
“Yes. So she knew the truth.”
“Which is?”
“How deeply her mother loved her.” She swallowed, lifting her head. “That Lord Barnett is not her father.”
I sat back, shocked. “What?”
“I was very close to her ladyship’s mother, and I was her only confidante. I was sworn to secrecy and remained loyal to my mistress even after she passed. But I believe it is time to speak.”
I nodded again, indicating for her to continue.
“She was newly enceinte when she met him—Lord Barnett—after fleeing Paris. He quickly became obsessed with her, desperate to marry her. Knowing the life she faced as an unmarried woman with child, she agreed. Her family would disown her, and she would be out in the streets if they discovered her secret. She liked the baron well enough and thought they would make a good match. He knew she had loved another but didn’t care.
He was besotted. They married hastily and remained in England.
He doted on her. Was thrilled when she told him she was with child.
Lady Wheaton was a small baby, and her being early was accepted easily.
” A smile pulled on her lips. “Even then, Lady Wheaton cooperated since she was past her time, in truth. Helpful, as always.”
“I see.”
“The baron never had much to do with her ladyship, and there were no more babies—no heir for him to dote on. When her mother died, he found the journals. Read them. Destroyed her rooms and shredded all her clothing. Burned it. Sold all the jewelry. Tore down the paintings he’d had purchased for her.
” She met my eyes. “And punished Lady Wheaton for it from that moment on.”
“That bastard.”
“My mistress was prepared to be with him all her life. Give him other children. Set aside her own happiness for his. She wrote of how fond she was of him. How her life was so much better because of him. His wonderful gifts. But none of that meant anything. All he saw was her mistake. Her lies. He called her terrible names. And then took his anger out on the one thing she loved more than anything. Her daughter.”
“But you stayed?” I asked.
“I moved to the kitchen. He never saw me—it was as if he forgot about me most of the time. But he took delight in making sure I knew when she was being punished. How much I loathed it. But I had to stay close and help her as much as I could. Protect her, if possible.”
“You were the one to make the gloves for her hands.”
“Yes. She needed to cover her hands for protection, and the gloves the baron forced her to wear were insufficient.” Once again, her eyes filled with tears.
“I tried as best I could. As much as I was able. The older servants all did at the beginning, but as they passed or moved on, it became harder. Soon, it was only Lydia and me.”
“You have my eternal gratitude and a home with us until you no longer wish it. Lydia does, as well.”
“You are a good man, my lord.” She paused. “I worry for your lordship with the baron tomorrow. If he can take away her happiness, he will.”
“He will not. I assure you. Be at peace with that.”
“He will try. He is an ugly man.”
I looked at the journals. “Does Lady Wheaton know?”
“No.”
“I will tell her once I have dealt with the baron. It might ease her mind in many ways.” I lifted a journal. “What of her real father?”
“A young nobleman, deeply in love with my mistress. They planned to marry, then he was killed by a footpad. My Felicity—my mistress—was beside herself with grief. A few weeks later, she was introduced to Lord Barnett…” She trailed off.
“The rest you know and can read in greater detail in the journals.”
I ran my hand over the dull leather.
“Inside the second book is a likeness of Lady Wheaton’s mother. It was all I could save before the baron destroyed everything.”
I flipped open the pages, staring at the small image tucked into the back.
“She is like her,” I said quietly. “He should have found comfort in that instead of hating her.”
“He is not of sound mind, my lord. Once she died, I don’t think he ever was. Grief and anger destroyed him.”
“No, he is not.” I glanced up. “This will mean the world to my wife. She has said often she wishes she had an image of her mother.”
“I have been guarding that image, knowing one day I would give it to her. I removed the journals from the desk before we departed. They should belong to Lady Wheaton, not the baron. I felt today was the day to give them to you and you were the person to trust to tell her this story.” She reached into her pocket, withdrawing a small brooch.
“I found this after his rampage. It had fallen under the dressing table. I have kept it hidden for her ladyship all these years.”
I studied the delicate brooch. The dull gold glinted in the light, the sapphires and small diamonds twinkling. The center stone was surrounded by filigree and tipped with matching jewels, enhanced with the tiny diamonds at each of the four tips of the oval brooch.
“It is lovely.”
“It was a gift to Felicity from Lady Wheaton’s real father. It was all she had of him.”
“She will treasure this.” I looked up. “Do you recall the name of her father?”
“Louis Dupont.” She sighed quietly, then finished her glass of wine. “He was the last of his line.”
“So she has no family left,” I mused. “She will be saddened by that.”
“I have heard there is a much younger female cousin somewhere in England, but I don’t know if that is true.” She reached over and patted my hand. “She is more than happy with you, my lord. Her own family. And I think knowing the truth will only add to her happiness.”
“I am in your debt once again for telling me all this, Geraldine. Thank you.”
She left, drawing the door shut behind her.
My mind was ablaze with what she had shared.
Barnett was not Maddie’s natural father.
For some men, it would be a blow, but they would move on.
However, he became so twisted with his own anger and grief that he took it out on her.
A defenseless, naive child who had just lost her mother.
He had punished her for years for something that was no fault of hers.
She had tried her entire life to be the daughter she thought he wanted.
Obedient. Subservient. Anxious to please.
Only, you cannot please a monster filled with hate.
And now, he was back, wanting once again to destroy her. Dissolve the happiness she had found. He didn’t want the information these journals contained to be known.
That was the reason for this duel.
He thought I knew. That Maddie knew.
And he wanted us both silent.
I stood and bellowed for Edward.
This changed things.