Chapter 29
Monday morning
Both Eugenie and her husband weren’t ever up this early, the earl told Ryder and Graham as their coffee cups were filled by a smiling Blakeney who nearly danced around the small family dining room—the table seated only twelve people—so happy was he.
As for the earl, Vereker couldn’t help staring at his son, a miracle, so perfect, even his boots. “I hope you will like Cook’s scrambled eggs. They’re always a marvel.”
Once their plates were full, Vereker said, “Please, Graham, tell me about yourself.”
Ryder saw Graham didn’t know what to say, so he told the earl he’d found him, just pulled out of the Thames.
He smiled toward the young man he’d loved for over ten years, mentioned how he’d fit in with all the children.
It opened the floodgates and Graham found himself talking about the little girl Angela who sang like an angel, and Oliver who was married to his sister—well, Ryder’s daughter—and how he managed Kildrummy Castle in Scotland and had four children.
Then he spoke of his tutor, then on to his years at Oxford and his studies.
He stopped, looked at Ryder, and said quietly, “It was at dinner at Lord Carberry’s house we met your vicar Piercebridge.
The next day he told me I had my mother’s eyes.
” There was more, so much more, and with Vereker’s urging Graham continued to talk—about their planned factory in Manchester, how he was designing new parts for the boilers.
Vereker said, “I’ve read about that, and wondered because I knew there had to be better ways. It is worrisome.”
Graham looked excited and the earl’s heart filled to near bursting. “Yes, sir, it is worrisome since boilers produce steam at very high pressures—” Graham stopped talking when Eugenie and Donner came into the dining room. The three gentlemen rose.
When Eugenie was gently seated by Blakeney, Graham smiled at the lovely woman who was his sister with her hair drawn back in a bun at the back of her head, curls touching her cheeks.
Her morning gown was a soft gray, and she wore only a diamond-encrusted ring on her fourth finger.
She looked tired, but no surprise since he’d suddenly appeared in her life.
As for Donner, he yawned, smiled at everyone at the table indiscriminately.
He paused, stared at Graham. “It is astounding. It is like looking at your mother.”
Eugenie looked at her long-lost brother, managed a smile. “I trust you slept well?”
“I did, thank you. And you as well?”
Eugenie blushed, shot a glance at her husband, cleared her throat. “Yes, thank you, very well.”
And what was all that about?
Eugenie said, “I studied Mother’s portrait. You do have her eyes. It is quite amazing, all of it.”
Donner nodded to Graham and Ryder, said to his father-in-law, “Good morning, sir, Mr. Sherbrooke, Graham, and how odd that sounds—my long-lost brother-in-law.” He picked up a warm bun from the covered basket, buttered it, spooned on some strawberry jam and took a big bite, smiling around the table as he chewed.
Graham said, “Terrance was telling me about his four sons.”
Vereker laughed, waved his newly filled coffee cup at him. “If half the things Terrance attributes to his brood is true, I doubt not one day they will rule the world.”
Ryder said, “I have asked myself that question after seeing some of the pranks my children get up to. Currently I am blessed with fourteen children, aged from three to seventeen. My wife would doubtless say our current brood, indeed all past broods, could rival Terrance and his four boys. They might not rule the world, but I pray they will make it a better place.”
Eugenie said, “Donner told me of your children, Mr. Sherbrooke. You have fourteen adopted children?”
Ryder, a charming storyteller just as was his own son, Grayson, regaled the listeners with tales of his Beloved Ones, Graham adding more stories of his own. As always in life, there was sadness and tragedy, laughter and tears and endless mayhem.
By the time Vereker took Ryder and his son—his son!
—to the stables, he was wrapped in optimism.
Eugenie appeared to have accepted her younger brother.
There was still so much to learn about his son’s missing years, years spent with a collection of children whose backgrounds and breeding were so vastly different, but listening to his son and Ryder talk about the Beloved Ones, he realized how very lucky Graham had been.
Even with no memory, he’d been surrounded by love, endless encouragement, sent to Oxford, even made Ryder Sherbrooke’s ward.
He had a superb brain, always inquiring, ah, a mathematician, an inventor, Vereker marveled at life and what it dished up on your plate. His son, home at last.
Even as he showed Ryder and Graham the stables, spoke of his farms, he was already planning a grand celebration party to reintroduce his son to the local gentry.
The three men had no sooner appeared back to King’s Head for luncheon when Vicar Piercebridge appeared at his front door, a huge question mark in his dark eyes.
And then seeing Graham standing next to his father, he smiled hugely.
It seemed Graham Hepburn’s arrival was already well-known and well discussed in every household in St. Lucy Head.
Over luncheon, Vereker told him what he planned.
The vicar could only laugh, joyously, and rub his hands together.
He blessed the Lord for the amazing gift.
He confided how he hadn’t intended to go to London to see his brother-in-law and his sister but something had pushed him, set his feet right on the train.
And yet at what he’d believed would be a tedious evening with men talking of business, he was presented with Lord Vereker’s precious son.
After luncheon and Vicar Piercebridge had taken his leave, Vereker believed he would expire with pleasure when his son asked him to explain his modern farming techniques to him.
Graham was dressing for dinner in one of his father’s exquisitely sewn vests, a light gray wool perfectly complementing his evening coat, when he met Terrance’s eyes in the mirror. “Why so formal, Terrance?”
“Ah, how splendid you look, my lord. His lordship will be so pleased to see you in one of his favorite vests—do remark upon the exquisite embroidery in a darker gray—did not his lordship tell you he’s invited several local families to dinner to reintroduce you to old families of these parts?
Mr. Sherbrooke is wearing a dark blue vest, also one of his lordship’s favorites.
Allow me to say, my lord, your guardian, Mr. Sherbrooke, is a fine gentleman, knows what’s what, knows what he’s about—he has exquisite taste as befits the brother of the Earl of Northcliffe and thus he approved the dark blue vest.”
Graham realized of course neither Ryder nor his father had told him ahead of time, they were obviously concerned he might be overwhelmed.
How like Ryder to protect him, he always had.
And now his father. He said without thought, “My guardian uncle, the Earl of Northcliffe, would be pleased his peerage is a sign of good taste.”
The light touch of sarcasm flowed right over Terrance’s head. He was too busy admiring his handiwork. Dressing a young, strong man of perfect proportions was a delight.
That evening Lord Graham, Viscount Whitestone, met the most important local families.
The gentlemen marveled at the serendipitous return of Vereker’s son, the older married ladies appreciated the pleasing attention and wit of the young gentleman, and the younger ladies, unmarried or married, slavered.
All in all, both Vereker and Ryder believed it was a very successful evening.
Brantley nearly popped his lovely waistcoat buttons smiling so widely when he returned to the drawing room after showing out the last of their guests.
When Graham finally lay in his bed, he was exhausted, more from nerves and expectations than genuine fatigue.
But he couldn’t sleep. Because suddenly, after the house was quiet, a light breeze sent droplets of rain against the bedchamber window; he saw Cam clearly in his mind, heard her voice, her laughter, saw her glasses sliding down her nose.
He’d thought of her off and on all day, realized with a start that he’d missed her.
A lot. It was a new experience for him, and unsettling.
Was she in Bath? If he addressed a letter to her aunt Deveraux, would it reach her?