Chapter 20 #2
She handed the note to Zack, who read it, looked as if he might cry, then tucked it carefully into his pocket and thrust out his lower lip. “It’s not fair. I’m being punished even though I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That is true. Sometimes society punishes the wrong people for the wrong things.” She put her arm about his shoulders.
“But Heath and I want you to be happy, so you should think about what would make you happiest—letting things stand as they are or having your father claim you, which means the world will know the truth. I know Heath will do whatever you want.”
“I don’t want either of those. I want Heath to tell people he’s my father, and I want you to be my mother.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I would consider it a great honor to be your mother. But if you do not want people to know you are a natural child, you might have to choose me to be your sister-in-law instead.” Assuming she married Heath, that is.
“But Heath isn’t my brother.”
“No, of course not.” And he should be the one here telling you this.
She swallowed down the lump in her throat.
“Unfortunately, you cannot tell anyone that, or, once again, they will know you are a natural child. So, while you are trying to decide, this conversation should remain between me, you, and your father. Do you think you can keep that secret from everyone, even your friends and brothers?”
“I guess.” He stared out over the estate, then frowned. “Someone is coming up the drive to Longmead in a carriage.”
She had a moment of panic, wondering if Jones had managed to elude the footmen stationed at the head of the drive and was even now coming after her and Maman.
Then she saw the carriage Zack was speaking of, and relief gushed through her as she recognized it.
Relief and a few tears. It was so good to see her family here just when she needed them.
She rubbed the tears from her eyes. “That is one of Heath’s best friends in the whole world—the Duke of Falconridge.
And his wife is my . . . closest friend.
” No point in giving Zack another secret to keep.
That was why she had not revealed the name of her real father in the first place. “Come, you must meet them.”
She took his hand, relieved that he let her lead him through the treacherous path she had come. By the time she and Zack got to the bottom of the tower, Evan and Kit were there.
They both hugged Zack, then chided him for scaring the wits out of them. “You can’t keep going up there,” Evan said.
“I won’t,” Zack said.
Giselle suppressed a snort. She did not believe him for a minute. But she would make sure that from now on, the door to the tower was locked and barred until repairs to the deck could commence. Clearly, that was the only way to keep the little daredevil safe permanently.
They managed to reach the house just as Jon and Tory pulled up in front. When they leapt out, she ran to hug them both. “What are you doing here?”
“Jon read in the press that you are betrothed to Heathbrook, so we came to save you from a fate worse than death,” another voice said.
“Chloe!” she cried, and ran over to hug Jon’s sister, who was also her friend. “It is so good to see you!”
Chloe drew back with a laugh. “I mean it, Giselle. The man is an unrepentant scoundrel who doesn’t deserve you. Or so Jon says, anyway. We came straightaway to inform Lord Heathbrook of that.”
“Where’s your mother? And Cyril?”
“Cyril came down with an ague,” Chloe said, “so Mother stayed in London to nurse him back to health. They may join us if Cyril starts feeling better.”
“How did you know where to find me, anyway?” Giselle asked Jon.
“I went to your town house, and they told me you were at Longmead. It wasn’t hard to figure it out from there. I was here enough times in my youth to remember it.” He walked up to Evan. “And I remember this rascal, too, I think. Evan?”
When he started to hug Evan, the lad thrust out his hand to shake. “How are you, Your Grace?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, call me Jon as you always did.” Jon turned to Kit. “And this strapping lad must be Christopher, I presume?”
“Kit,” the lad said, and happily hugged Jon. “It’s so good to see you, sir. You used to give me lemon drops when I was a boy.”
“I outgrew that habit, I’m afraid. Now it’s ginger comfits, if you’d like one of those.”
“Excuse me, husband of mine,” Tory said archly. “You know those are my ginger comfits.” She smiled at Kit. “But you’re welcome to one, if you like.” She looked at Zack, who was hanging back, looking unsure of himself again. “And you, too, young man. You must be Zachary.”
“You know about me?” Zack said.
“Of course,” Jon replied. “How could we forget Heath’s youngest brother? Even though he’d never met you, he told us everything he learned about you from your mother’s letters.”
When Zack’s face clouded over, Giselle stepped in to change the subject. “Ginger comfits?” she said to her half sister. “Are you, by some chance—”
“I am,” Tory said, beaming up at Jon.
“Congratulations!” Giselle cried, and hugged her again, more gently this time.
“Congratulations for what?” Zack asked. “She is what?”
“My wife and I are expecting a child, young Zachary,” Jon said, staring down at Tory with love in his eyes.
It was hard for Giselle to watch. Of course, she was thrilled for them, but seeing the way he looked at her made her wonder if Heath would ever look at her that way.
“Now,” Jon added, “where is the rapscallion who has the audacity to think he can marry our favorite French friend? Heathbrook! Come out here, you scoundrel, so I can call you out!”
“That’s not amusing, Jon,” Tory said. “Leave him be.”
“He cannot hear you, anyway,” Giselle said. “Believe it or not, he is in London just now on urgent estate business. But he is supposed to return late tomorrow, so you might as well stay until then.” She looked at Evan. “That is, if Evan is fine with it, since I am sure he put Evan in charge.”
“Actually,” Evan said, “he left me a note saying you were in charge. Which is fine by me. You are generally better at such things as hospitality.”
Giselle melted. “You are very kind, Evan.” She gazed at her friends. “Do come in then. I am sure you would like a cup of tea and a biscuit or two, not to mention a chance to stretch out on a more comfortable seat than the one in your coach.”
“You aren’t lying, my dear,” Tory said. “Lead the way.”
When Giselle first walked inside, one of the footmen tried to take her redingote, but she told him she wanted to keep it on.
Tory whispered, “Why not give the man your redingote?”
“Because I’m only wearing my nightgown underneath.” When Tory blinked, Giselle added, “It is a long story. I shall tell you all about it later.”
For now, there was much to be done. While the boys and her mother joined their guests in the drawing room, Giselle flitted about giving orders to the servants to bring refreshments and prepare rooms for a couple and a single lady. To her astonishment, they obeyed her.
And the whole time she was making arrangements, Zack’s words kept running through her head: I want you to be my mother. She began thinking about that, wondering about possibilities. If they could manage it, could Heath claim Zack and somehow lessen the scandal?
Much later, Chloe and Tory snagged her and insisted that she put on “proper clothes,” then followed her to her bedchamber, so they could find out about Heath while she did so.
“What is going on?” Tory asked as soon as the door closed behind them. “I knew you two were friendly, but I never imagined . . .”
Giselle glanced at Chloe. “You do not mind that Lord Heathbrook and I are engaged, do you?”
Chloe blinked. “Why would I mind?”
“The two of you have always seemed . . . comfortable together, you must admit,” Giselle said, going behind the screen to remove her nightgown and put on her chemise.
“If by ‘comfortable together,’ you mean we love to exchange witticisms and complaints about the food, drink, dances, company, etc., at any social event, then yes, we are comfortable together.”
Giselle came out from behind the screen with her corset loosely fitted around her waist and turned her back to Tory, who began to lace her up. Giselle stared at Chloe. “You also flirt quite a bit with each other.”
Her friend burst into laughter. “I don’t know about Lord Heathbrook, but I flirt with everyone, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“She really does,” Tory said behind her. “Except for Scovell. Him she avoids.”
Chloe sniffed. “I do not avoid Captain Scovell. I ignore him.”
“He certainly doesn’t ignore you,” Giselle said.
“No. He looks down on me.” Before Giselle could protest Chloe’s nonsense, Chloe added, “And as for Lord Heathbrook, surely you know that I mean nothing by my flirting with him. Half of the time we are around each other, Lord Heathbrook spends trying to pick out suitors for me. He, of all people, knows I have no interest in him, and he certainly has none in me.”
Giselle felt the tightness around her heart slacken. “That is what he claimed, but I was not sure whether to believe him.”
“Why not?” Tory asked, her expression suddenly quite serious.
“Because he . . . that is . . .” She sighed. “You know he likes to flirt with ladies. You should have seen the line of his former paramours Yates’s lawyer paraded through the court to demonstrate that he is a . . . a rakehell undeserving to have custody of his brothers.”
“You went to court with Lord Heathbrook?” Chloe exclaimed, and threw herself down on the bed. “Tell us everything.”
Sacrebleu, Giselle had already said too much. “Obviously, he won custody despite all of his cousin’s machinations. So, there is nothing more to tell.”
“Liar,” Chloe said.
“Don’t be mean,” Tory said to her sister-in-law before turning to regard Giselle quite seriously. “Are you in love with him?”
“Yes,” Giselle said.
“Is he in love with you?” Chloe asked. When she hesitated to answer, not really knowing what to say, Chloe leapt up from the bed. “Lord Heathbrook can be such an idiot sometimes.”
Giselle found a gown in her closet and slipped it on. “Do not call my fiancé an idiot.”
Tory came over to fasten her up.
“Fine,” Chloe said. “How about ‘oblivious,’ ‘blind’, ‘foolish’ . . . ? Feel free to add your own when you’re ready, Giselle.”
“He is cautious,” Giselle said. “But do not worry. I have already told him if he cannot love me, I cannot marry him.” She sighed. “But I want to marry him. I’ve loved him for years.”
Her half sister murmured, “Really? Years?”
Giselle shrugged and faced the two women. “Ever since he kissed me the first time, when I was nineteen.”
“What?” the two ladies said in unison.
Briefly, she explained some of their history, leaving out the huge parts about their bargain that had resulted in a faux engagement and how he had sired a son without knowing of it.
“Ah,” Tory said. “Now the engagement makes more sense.”
Chloe turned serious. “So, what are you going to do?”
“I honestly do not know,” Giselle said.
“He’ll come to his senses,” Tory proclaimed with a hug. “He’d be a fool to let you go.”
“I told you—he is a fool,” Chloe said bitterly. “Men are all fools.”
“Not all of them,” Tory said, exchanging a glance with Giselle. No, not all of them. But Giselle began to fear that this one just might be, if not a fool, then at the very least a man who did not know his own heart.
She could only hope he got to know it very soon.