Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
An Heir is Born
Dear Reader?—
From the dreary Uplands, word has reached this author that a certain Duchess of N has borne an heir. Simple arithmetic tells one the child could be the dearly departed Duke’s, however, the castle remains in lockdown, refusing admittance to any man, including the Crown’s doctor. It has been a veritable nunnery since shortly after the Duke’s death. One would not question such an act of mourning if the Duchess herself had not been seen at Lady D’s house party in February.
Is there a secret about the child the Duchess is desperate to keep?
—The Whispers of the Ton, London, published 15th of November 1811
W as it true? Had Iseabail born his child? Nash folded the scandal sheet and put it under his napkin as the giggles of Iseabail’s sisters neared the dining room. He normally read the scandal sheet himself and then let his mother read it, she then passed it on to the girls. This morning, he would keep it hidden until he sent word to Caerlaverock and determined the truth of the matter.
The women reached the door, and their joy silenced as each one of them looked at him in that knowing way they had since his first day back in town. He rose and bowed. “Ladies. I trust you all slept well after last night’s activities.” He counted one, two, three, four … was the fifth missing? There was a fifth, wasn’t there?
His mother gently pushed the girls farther into the room, and Nash went through their names one at a time. Máira, Ailsa, Edeen, Robina, and … who was missing? It was on the tip of his tongue but for the life of him, he could not recall the name of the missing chit. The blasted scandal sheet had scattered his brains and he couldn’t think for shite.
From the day he had returned from Caerlaverock, these young ladies had been his focus, outside his estate business—unless his mind wandered to the babe growing inside Iseabail’s womb.
A chorus of “ Ross” went up as the women made their way to the sideboard to fill their plates.
He sat back and shuffled the food around on his plate. Until moments ago, he’d been a man lost in a sea of dresses and ribbons, shopping and parties, and gossip and lists of which bachelor was looking for a bride and which one was looking for a fortune. His only goal had been to see her sisters well placed, despite Iseabail dominating his thoughts.
When her sisters spoke her name, his ears magically tuned into their conversations.
“She gave herself to a decrepit old man for us.”
“She sacrificed her future so that we would have one.”
“I would never trade myself for the lot of you, and Caillen would probably marry a beggar just to spite all of us.”
That was the missing chit’s name! Caillen. He felt a moment of pride that he could process any of the conversation after reading today's gossip rag.
“Mother and Father would be so proud of her.”
Thank heavens his mother had taken over the job of preparing the young ladies for the Season with more care and aplomb than he could have managed in a lifetime. The only thing he knew about the Season, was how to avoid matchmaking mommas and scheming debutants.
“We don’t have much time, ladies. You are due at your fittings at half past one.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The girls agreed in unison.
Dress fittings were the one thing the girls didn’t argue about.
Nash took a drink of his coffee. “That seems to be the one thing you girls do agree on—spending my money on gowns.”
Robina grinned. “We’re more than happy to spend your money on new wardrobes.”
“I thought your sister Caillen liked to spend my money on books,” Nash interjected.
“That was before she met Lord Griffith,” Edeen smirked, and another round of giggles traveled over the table.
“Ladies, mind your manners,” his mother corrected.
“Before Lord Griffith, Caillen wanted no part of dressmakers or the marriage mart. All she cared about were bookshops and the lending library,” Ailsa added.
Robina added two more pieces of fish to her plate, and his mother cleared her throat. Robina looked up to see the Dowager Duchess shake her head before she returned one. Out of all Iseabail’s sisters, thirteen-year-old Robina Blair was going to be the biggest challenge to find a suitable groom. The bare feet visible at the edge of her gown were the least of the obstacles his mother would face.
Nash winked at the girl when he caught sight of her bare toes.
Robina grinned and quickly made her way to the table while defending her sister. “She planned to live with Iseabail at Caerlaverock as governess to the future heir. Then she could educate the future duke as to the worth of young women.”
That had earned a collective eyeroll from her siblings and a nod of approval from him.
“Is Caillen not feeling well this morning?” He asked.
“She has locked us out of her room,” Robina replied.
“Robina isn’t wearing any slippers,” Edeen tattled, as she daintily took a bite of eggs.
His mother leaned over and looked for bare feet.
“Caillen says some cultures bind young girls’ feet to stop them from growing. All in the name of making her more appealing to a man.”
“Big feet are rather unattractive. You should see my sister’s.” Simon entered the room as he shuddered in mock horror, sprinkling the area with water from his wet head. Then he grinned from ear to ear as he bowed to the room at large before running his fingers through his hair. The girls broke out in raucous laughter, but his mother was too busy greeting Simon to admonish them.
Caillen was the only sister who wasn’t completely smitten with his friend. If anything, she was the one sister who might throw a dagger through Simon’s heart. Or at least clobber him with a book from the library. Her absence probably spared him from having a bloody breakfast table. Simon winked at the girls and waited his turn to fill his plate from the silver serving bowls set out on the sideboard.
His mother closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose. Nash suspected she was saying a prayer for polite conversation.
“Corsets are definitely a torture devise,” Ailsa chimed in.
His mother’s eyes shot open.
Robina nodded. “They’re to make a woman’s waist appear smaller.”
“And her bosom?—”
“Enough!” Nash put up his hand to stop the girls from continuing the discussion before his mother died of apoplexy. The girls looked down at their plates and silently continued to eat like a group of hungry boys at university. He still couldn’t fathom where they put all that food.
“Has Caillen’s maid been in to check on her?” Nash asked, just to make certain the girls knew he wasn’t angry.
“When Caillen is in a mood, no one wants to go near her,” Maira replied.
Nash winced. He knew more about women’s moods since returning to Harding House, and finding it overrun with femininity. He understood how raising six girls could be too much for their father to handle. He wasn’t certain he would survive the next few years to see all of them married.
“Máira,” his mother admonished, “Certain topics are not to be discussed in the presence of a gentleman, nor over the breakfast table.”
“He hardly counts as a gentleman,” Edeen added. “He’s our guardian.”
“I think you’ve been handed your manhood by a pack of she-wolves barely out of the schoolroom.” Simon took a seat next to him with a plate full of food.
“Are you running short on funds?” Nash asked him.
“Nashford Xavier Harding!” his mother exclaimed, as if he was still in the school room.
The girls giggled behind their napkins. Simon winked again. If he didn’t stop that, Nash was going to have to close that eye permanently.
“It’s quite all right, Duchess. Nash and I have never shied away from talk of finances.”
“I will have to ask that you do in the company of his young wards who have impressionable minds,” his mother warned, although by the batting of her eyes, Nash suspected his mother was just as smitten with his best friend as the girls. Simon could walk in the room smelling like horse manure, and every one of them would greet him as if he wore the scent of heaven.
Nash froze with the fork on the edge of his lips. Prior to the Blair sisters’ arrival, Simon had only been an occasional breakfast companion at his townhome—after their nights out carousing with merry widows on their arms.
This was not the norm for Simon. For Nash it was a life decision. For Simon—Simon was taking breakfast at his table two or three times a week—sometimes four, with three young women on the marriage mart.
Simon looked toward the youngest, Robina. “So why is your sister locked away in her bedroom on such a fine morning?”
It wasn’t a fine morning at all. Bloody hell. It was as if the frigid, wet weather finally woke him to what was happening right before his very eyes. Simon was besotted with one of the girls, and he was plying Robina for information! Nash had seen him charm a roomful of women, only to end up in the arms of the one woman he’d completely ignored throughout the evening.
Simon had ignored Caillen’s snorts of disgust over his flirtatious comments for weeks. He’d kill the blighter before he’d allow him to seduce one of his wards.
“She was in quite the mood last night after the Farrington Ball. It seems her beau was not pleased with the Duke.” Ailsa’s description was rather politely put. From her tone, however, Nash suspected the young woman cared less for Caillen’s suitor than he did.
“Did you really need to be so harsh with the young man, Ross?” his mother asked.
She was the last person he expected to question his judgement.
“Yes. I did.”
“He was only interested in her dowry,” Simon said, before taking a bite of toast.
Nash eyed his friend. He did not question the information Simon had given him about Caillen’s suitor the previous evening. He did, however, now question why Simon investigated the newly appointed baron’s background.
“I thought you were happy with Lord Griffith courting Caillen?” Ailsa questioned.
“Information came to light that I’d rather not discuss.” Nash had initially thanked the bloody stars for William Griffith. The man had somehow captured Caillen’s attention, despite the girl having no use for the Ton.
“Caillen was pretty upset with you, Duke.” Robina buttered a piece of toast and appeared to mimic Simon’s less-than-proper eating habits as she took a bite and began talking with her mouth full. “Ever since that article appeared in The Whispers of the Ton about our parents, Caillen didn’t want to have anything to do with the Ton. Then she met Lord Griffith and she seemed to drop her emotional armor.”
“Or he tore it off her body,” Edeen added, with a wicked twinkle in her eyes.
Giggles broke out at the table.
“Girls! We do not discuss clothing being removed in mixed company,” his mother admonished.
All four of the girls continued to giggle, and Nash glanced at Simon to see if the out-of-control siblings reminded him of home. He expected to see him hiding a grin. He was not. Simon sat staring at his plate as he swallowed his last bite of toast as if it were a stone.
God help him, he would not survive Iseabail’s sisters.
“Lord Griffith has quite a bit of debt. Is that why you refused to allow him to continue courting Caillen?” Robina asked.
“Robina, that is not a topic for us to discuss.” His mother took a sip of tea and looked at Nash over the top of her cup. If he didn’t know better, he would suspect her of planning to leave Iseabail’s sisters at a school for wayward girls.
“How did you learn that?” Simon asked.
The Dowager glared at him, but Simon was too interested in Robina’s answer to notice.
Robina beamed under Simon’s attention, and Nash swore under his breath. He’d have to kill him. He had no choice.
His mother turned her glare on him. “Really, Ross. You’re not helping.”
Simon repeated his question to Robina. “How did you learn about Lord Griffith’s debt?”
Robina shrugged and took a bite of fish. “I have my ways.”
“She digs in people’s trash,” Ailsa added to the conversation.
His mother sputtered her tea. “Robina!” She choked.
“Ow!” Ailsa blurted as she grabbed her leg.
Robina scowled. “Rat.”
“ You’re the one digging in smelly garbage.”
He was losing control of his household.
Robina changed the topic. “Griffith has been the source of many a scandal. Did he ask for Caillen’s hand?”
“No,” Nash answered honestly. He hadn’t given the bounder the opportunity. Until the Farrington Ball, when Simon had set him straight, he’d thought it was a good match. Now he was finding out that Simon wasn’t the only one who knew Griffith to be a rotter through and through who was only in search of an heiress.
Simon snorted, bringing Nash’s focus back to the current conversation. He eyed his friend more carefully, unable to discern if his interest was in Caillen, or in the sister who seemed to need more supervision than he’d realized. Surely it wasn’t the young Robina.
He thought of the entire written report on Griffith’s reputation at the gaming hells and brothels which Simon had handed him less than twenty-four hours earlier. It was abysmal. Griffith was a violent drunk and nothing Nash would wish upon any woman, let alone Iseabail’s younger sister, who couldn’t see past the man’s wit and charm to the scoundrel buried under the facade. Hell, he’d missed it.
“I think the baron is dreamy,” Edeen said, with all the romanticism of youth.
Robina dismissed her. “You’re blinded by his smile, just as Caillen is.”
“You mustn’t judge the worth of a man on his chemistry alone,” Máira lectured. “Let me demonstrate.”
To prove her point, Máira walked over to the sideboard and poured a cup of coffee. Nash bit back a smile and his mother released a sigh. Máira’s obsession with scents had entered most of their dinner conversations, to the point where Nash knew exactly what she was about to demonstrate. So did his mother. He liked his coffee strong, without cream and sugar, a trait he learned from an American.
Máira took the steaming cup over to her little sister and let the fragrant steam waft in front of her face. “Breathe it in and savor the rich aroma.” Edeen closed her eyes and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scent. “Don’t you just love the bouquet of coffee? Can’t you taste how wonderful and indulgent it will be on your tongue?”
Edeen nodded with enthusiasm. In front of the entire family, she was going to be introduced to a drink she’d been told was only for grown-ups. The look of expectation of Edeen’s face as she accepted this rite of passage into adulthood was almost painful.
“Now take the cup, easy so you don’t spill it.”
Edeen nearly rolled her eyes, but caught herself when she saw Nash’s raised brow.
“I’ve been serving tea for years, Máira. I think I know how to handle a cup of coffee.”
Máira smiled. “Of course you do. You’re a Blair. Now slowly taste it, but not too quickly so you can savor the experience.”
Edeen did the opposite, as Máira, and everyone else, knew she would. She gulped the hot brew like it was an iced lemonade. Then spewed it across the table and onto Simon’s face and cravat.
Nash couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped his lips. Her sisters openly laughed, while Edeen turned ten shades of red. If she’d had red hair, her expression would have been lost. As it was, her horror was quite visible.
“Girls, that’s quite enough,” the Duchess admonished. “Máira, get a damp towel for the Earl. The servants shouldn’t have to clean up the mess you’ve made.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Máira nodded, but leaned over the back of her little sister’s chair and said, “Just because something appeals to one of your senses, doesn’t mean it’s good through and through. Men can be very appealing on the outside, but their hearts can be rotten to the core and leave you wishing you’d politely passed on the offer.”
Simon wiped his face with his napkin. “Thank you, Edeen. I now have an aromatic scent that is a hundred times better than the pungent bouquet of wet man and horse that I arrived with.” He followed it up with another wink.
Nash recognized it for what it was, comforting a girl’s tender heart. It wasn’t flirtatious in the least.
With that, the elder sister grabbed one of the extra napkins on the sideboard and wet it with water from the pitcher. Then she rounded the table and approached Simon. Nash watched his friend’s reaction closely over the top of his cup of coffee. His own heart had been cold and black, until the heat he felt for Iseabail thawed it. The experience was exactly like the sip he took from his cup—searing and sultry to the very last drop. It heated him from his core to his fingertips. It was anything but rotten. It was vibrant and alive despite the months he’d gone without seeing her.
Simon, however, felt none of that for Edeen, Robina, or Máira. He’d had the perfect opportunity to look down the bodice of Máira’s gown, and instead looked down at his cravat. No. His friend was not one to miss an opportunity, which made the situation even more odd. Until Simon turned to the Dowager and said, “Don’t you think someone should check on Caillen? Ensure she doesn’t need a doctor?”
His mother blinked as if noticing Simon as a man of the aristocracy for the first time in her life. An earl—interested in Iseabail’s sister. A smile formed on his mother’s lips, the likes he’d only seen on matchmaking mamas.
It was Caillen. His mother recognized it just as Nash recognized it. The very girl Simon had protected from a scoundrel.
“I mean … I’ve never known her to miss a meal.” Simon’s stammer indicated his own recognition of the grin still lingering on the Dowager’s face.
“Robina, darling. Go fetch your sister and ask her to join us at the breakfast table. I have something important to discuss with her.”
Robina dropped her utensil, allowing it to clatter on the china before leaping out of her chair.
“Put on a pair of slippers while you’re above stairs,” his mother called after her.
“Yes, Your Grace!” Robina yelled, as she ran from the room, bounding up the stairs, no doubt two at a time.
“You have your hands full with that one,” Nash smirked.
“ We have our hands full, dear son.”
Nash nodded and turned his attention back to Simon, while trying not to draw too much attention of the three remaining girls. “Would you like to tell me about your intentions?”
Simon nearly choked on the air. Dabbing at his cravat with the wet napkin, he refused to meet Nash’s gaze. “I have no intentions. I was merely expressing concern.”
“Concern for a young lady who happens to be on the marriage mart?”
That questioned garnered more attention than he desired. Máira nearly forgot where her seat was located, Ailsa struggled to swallow her food, and Edeen merely blinked in rapid succession. Simon stood up so abruptly his chair fell to the floor. There seemed to be quite a few chairs being knocked over since the Blair sisters had come into his life.
“Pardon me, Your Grace,” Simon said to his mother as he righted the chair. “I seemed to have remembered a very important appointment that simply slipped through my thoughts in my haste to enjoy your breakfast table. If you’ll?—”
“She’s gone! She’s gone!” The sound of footfalls sprinting down the stairs and through the hall signified the level of panic in the young voice yelling out the alarm for everyone in the house to hear, and possibly the neighbors as well. “She’s gone!” Robina yelled as she skidded to a halt in the doorway frantically waving a piece of paper in her hand. “She’s really gone! What are we going to do? Duke, you must find C?—”
Ailsa was by her side with her hand over her mouth before Robina could tell everyone within the block that her sister Caillen was most certainly ruined. “Don’t scream. Of course, Ross will help locate your cat for you. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. She has a litter of babies depending on her.”
“Start searching for Robina’s cat . We wouldn’t want her struck by a passing carriage.” His mother directed two footmen standing at the door, who bowed and immediately disappeared from the dining room.
“Ow! You heathen!” Ailsa hissed as she pulled her hand back, Robina’s teeth marks evident on her index finger.
Any other time, Nash would have found the scene humorous. This morning it reeked of disaster. He took the letter Robina refused to let Ailsa read and scanned the contents.
Dearest sisters,
I tried to reason with the Duke, but he would not hear a word I had to say about Lord Griffith. I know that William does not come from great money, but I do not care. Dowry or not, we will live a happy life together as man and wife. The Duke does not understand what true love is, the Dowager does. It is filled with hopes and dreams of a better tomorrow, of challenges and sacrifice, of true devotion no matter what obstacles we face.
I will miss you deeply, but I must follow my heart, for I have found the love match our parents wished for each of us. I hope the Season is wonderful and glorious for you all. It was never a path I would have chosen to take for myself. How I found such an incredible man so quickly is beyond anything I have ever dreamed. Please wish us well on our journey to Gretna Green. I will write to you when we are settled.
All my love,
Caillen
“What utter drivel,” Simon said from over his shoulder.
Nash scowled at him and then his mother. What nonsense had she filled the girls’ heads with? Yet the stricken look on her face gave him pause. “Do not worry,” he told the girls who now stood together as one. “I will bring her home,” he promised. “Before anyone is aware of her disappearance. In the meantime, you must attend your appointments and the dressmaker’s as previously scheduled.”
“And what of the ball we have planned for Friday? If you are not there, and Caillen is not there …” His mother left the question hanging in the air with the innuendo the Ton would create.
Nash cursed under his breath, every eye in the room looking to him for a solution. This was his family, and they were depending on him.
“I will head to Gretna Green and cut them off in your stead.” The steel in Simon’s voice was like nothing Nash had ever heard from his jovial friend. Yes, they’d been in fights and brawls, like all young men, but Simon had always laughed through the entire scuffle, making fun of their opponents and themselves. Now, however, his friend was more serious than Nash had ever seen him.
He pulled him off to the side. “What is it that you haven’t told me about Lord Griffith?”
Simon bit his lip as if to stop from saying too much before he finally said. “I have picked up the pieces of Lord Griffith’s past once before. It was not pretty.”
Nash’s heart stuttered for Iseabail’s sister. “The pieces?”
“He was not kind to his last mistress. She has since retired to the country with her child, but not before she was permanently … scarred.”
“What did he do to her?” Nash didn’t want to know, yet he needed the truth. He needed to be prepared for what Simon might find.
Simon glanced back at the women patiently waiting for their discussion to end. “Her beauty is no longer visible from the outside, but she is a good woman.”
“You took care of her?”
Simon reluctantly nodded.
“Why?”
Simon rubbed the back of his neck and then said the most honest and forthright thing Nash had ever heard come from his lips. “My mother is a saint. She took my siblings in and raised all of us equally. How could that not have a bearing on the man I am today? You have my word as a gentleman, I will bring Caillen home safe.”
Nash gripped Simon’s bicep and patted his other arm in the most intimate embrace they’d ever shared. “Thank you. It won’t be an easy task.”
All seriousness disappeared from Simon’s countenance with his grin. “Nothing ever is in your household. There’s about as much drama in Harding House as there is in the Queen’s fitting room.” Simon shuddered, and once again despite the dire circumstances, the girls giggled. He performed a sweeping bow to the room and was gone before the sisters stopped blushing.
“Girls, go get dressed for the modiste. We leave at the hour.”
The sisters left in a group as if they knew by standing together, they were stronger. Hell, he’d probably taught them that lesson when he’d taken Urquhart from them. Nash ran his fingers through his hair.
“I’m sorry.” His mother’s voice was full of regret.
“Did you tell her to elope with Lord Griffith?” He kept the accusation out of his tone, but it was there, hanging in the air between them.
“No! I told the girls that true love will find them, whether it’s convenient or not.”
“This is not true love,” he informed his mother, angry with her despite his desire not to be.
“Of course it’s not. Everyone knows Lord Griffith is on the hunt for a dowry.”
“Did you tell Caillen that?”
“I dropped several discrete hints. I thought she understood my meaning that he was not a suitable candidate for marriage.” She bit her lip, her eyes darting back and forth as if she were looking for a hole to escape to. “I made certain all the girls knew …”
He walked over and took his mother in his arms, something he’d never done before. It should have been awkward. It was anything but.
“I’m sorry,” she said into his chest. “You trusted me with them and I failed?—”
“You did nothing of the sort. I should have told her what I knew.”
“Do you think Simon?—”
“Yes. Simon will get to her in time.”
She nodded and then pulled away. “I saw The Whispers of the Ton .”
He winced and turned away without acknowledging his mother’s comment. What could he say? That he’d bedded the Duchess of Nithesdale and the babe she bore was not Nithesdale’s child but his own? And if she had delivered this early, then the child was in danger? He couldn’t focus on a stupid ball, or Caillen, when he was failing her at every turn.
“I fell in love with Edward my very first season.”
That got his attention.
“Edward?” Nash stared at his mother. No one, not even he, called the late Duke by his Christian name. His mother’s face expressed more sorrow and heartbreak than he would’ve thought possible.
She nodded. “He was the best of men. We planned to be married.”
“You what?”
Her sad smile warmed. “He proposed to me toward the end of my first and only Season. We were so very happy … and we, we did what most young couples do when they are in love and plan to marry, we anticipated our vows … intimately.”
“You what?” He sounded like Simon’s family pet. The parrot, however, displayed a slightly more intelligent response, despite the lewd nature of the phrases it repeated over and over.
His mother went to the sideboard, ignored the tea and the coffee, and went for the decanter filled with brandy. She filled two glasses and turned back to him. “I think we’ll both need this,” she stated, as she took a sip and savored the way it went down her throat. Nash did the opposite. He tossed it back without preamble, just like Edeen had with her coffee. He did not, however, spit out a drop.
“Edward disappeared the next day. I didn’t know where he’d gone. I couldn’t go to his residence and my letters went unanswered. When I heard he’d left town, I was heartbroken. I attended the balls hoping he’d appear but found myself wandering the gardens, crying the hours away. It was on one such occasion that James found me—and I found myself compromised.”
“You were already ruined,” he stated the obvious. Nithesdale had been a reprobate after all.
“Yes, but society did not know I was ruined. Only I knew, and my hand was forced despite my denial that anything had occurred between James and me.”
His chest compressed. “What are you trying to tell me, Mother?”
She took a drink and let out a slow breath before meeting his gaze. “My parents would hear nothing of my objections. I was publicly compromised and Edward was penniless—his father had run the estates into the ground. What I didn’t know was that his father, uncle, and cousin were all killed in a carriage accident. Edward had gone home because of the accident.
“I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” Her voice trailed off as a tear ran down her cheek and her gaze seemed lost somewhere over his shoulder. “I was wed to James by special license the very next week. I told him on our wedding night that I was not pure.
“It was the first time he hit me. He vowed not to bed me until he was certain I was not with child.” The laugh she released was filled with anything but mirth, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt where this conversation was going. He wasn’t certain if he wanted to run from the room or tell her to stop talking.
In the end, he waited for her to continue. His entire life held in the balance.
“My courses never came. I bore my first, and only child eight months later … you.” Another tear fell down her cheek. “The Duke was furious, he hated you from the day you were born and every day after, when I did not give him a son.”
Nash fell in the nearest chair. It couldn’t be. Nithesdale was his father? After all these years of viewing Nithesdale as the only man to admire and shape himself after, it turned out he not only took advantage of his mother, but he’d taken advantage of Iseabail as well. Maybe not physically but in the eyes of society she was tainted. And now his own child wouldn’t be his, because his father stole his right to parent his child.
“I hated Edward for the rest of his days,” she confessed.
He hated Nithesdale. Loathed him with everything he was.
“He tried to talk to me, but I refused to listen. On your fifth birthday, he was there, like every birthday before that. He was there. It made me angry. He’d repeatedly asked if you were his, but I’d always denied it. That day I told him he was your father, but he would never be able claim you or leave his estate to you because you had your own dukedom to maintain. In that moment, I think I destroyed him.”
“Since the day you were born, James forbade me to visit you in the nursery more than once a week and on special occasions. Your birthday was always the best day of the year. James was never there to celebrate, but for some reason, after I broke Edward’s heart on your fifth birthday, James appeared. He’d never attended our festivities before, I had no reason to suspect he’d show up on that day. I suppose it was karma slapping me across the face for being so cruel to Edward.”
She poured another glass of brandy and held the decanter in his direction. He declined with a shake of his head.
“He was deep in his cups when he found me playing on the floor with you. It was behavior unbecoming a duchess … and he beat me for it. For loving my son.” Her lips turned up at the corners in a sad smile of acceptance.
“I wasn’t allowed to visit you again. I received updates from your nannies. When Edward still wanted to be a part of your life, I allowed it for you, not him. I knew how good he was with you and I wanted you to know you were loved … by someone. I still hated him for the fate he’d left me to. Luckily, James never knew Edward was your father. If he had, I have no doubt he would have ended his friendship with Edward long ago.”
“Nithesdale was my father? You’re certain?” He said the words for nothing else than to see how they felt on his tongue. They felt right—yet all wrong.
His mother nodded.
“Why didn’t he come for you before I was born?”
“According to Iseabail, he did, but my parents sent him away. I believe he spent as much time with you as he thought he could get away with, without James suspecting anything.”
“Iseabail told you? When? How did she know?” And why didn’t she tell him?
“We’ve been writing since her sisters arrived, but that’s all I’m going to say. You’ll have to ask her what else she knows, but I need to know something, Ross.” She hesitated, and he watched her throat work as she figured out how to ask the question that was so difficult for her to form. “Do … do you hate me for not telling you sooner that Edward was your father?”
He should hate her. She should have told him. She knew how badly the Duke treated him, yet she also knew how much time he’d spent with Nithesdale. Time that was free of the drama that would have been there if he’d known. He’d spent more time with Nithesdale than anyone in his family—more than he had with the man society believed was his father … and that wasn’t such a bad thing.
He shook his head. “No, Mother. Nithesdale played an important role in my life. I admired him and looked up to him. There were days when I wished he was my father, and in many ways, he was. You did the best you could.”
His mother’s chin quivered, and tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Then she was throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him in a manner she never had before, harder than he had moments earlier. Nash felt his own eyes grow moist and had to clear his throat before he asked the next question.
“Why did he marry Iseabail?”
His mother pulled back and he handed her his handkerchief. “I can’t say for certain,” she said, as she dabbed at her tear-stained cheeks. “I can only speculate that he believed you would chase after her if he did.”
It was his turn to nod. He did chase after her.
“Is the child his?” Her voice wavered as if she really didn’t want to know.
“No, it’s mine. Their marriage was never consummated.” It was the first time he admitted it to anyone. Simon may have suspected, but his mother now knew the truth.
“And will you claim the child?”
“She refused me.”
The Dowager Duchess finished her drink and put the glass down on the table without a sound. “Then it is done. Edward’s heir will inherit the ducal seat of Nithesdale as he should.”
Nash drew back, suddenly understanding Nithesdale more than he had in a very long time. Yet how was it possible? “And if it’s a girl?”
“It’s Scotland. Whether it be a boy or girl is irrelevant. If it’s a girl, the title will, in time, go to the next heir, her son or grandson, but the lands and income immediately go to his female heir. I would say Edward planned that very well.”
Nash snorted. “How could he have possibly known?”
“Known?” She laughed “My dear boy, even I knew how obsessed you were with the girl.”
“The girl , Mother. I was obsessed with finding the girl and her sisters and making things right. I was not infatuated with her. I didn’t know the woman Iseabail had become.”
“And yet you are more than infatuated with her now. Perhaps Edward saw how perfect the two of you were for each other.”
It wasn’t a question. He answered it anyway. “Yes.”
“What will you do?”
“Nothing.”
His mother threw her hands in the air as if she’d met the dumbest man to walk the earth. “James would not let me love you, and by the time he died, I didn’t know how. You know how to love. Your real father taught you that. I’ve seen it in the way you treat her sisters.”
Nash ran his hand through his hair. “She doesn’t want me, Mother.” Some of the pain leaked into his words, and he wanted to curse his weakness.
“Do you want to know my opinion?”
“Not particularly.” He was learning to get along with her and not resent her for the past. He wasn’t sure he was ready to take advice from her though.
She ignored him. “Let her heal after the birth. The real birth. In the meantime, continue to take her sisters out into the Ton just as you would if she were standing by your side. And wait for her to come to you.”
“And if she doesn’t? If she hates me because I allowed Caillen to run off with a bounder?”
The grin on his mother’s face held more feminine wiles than he’d ever known her to possess. “You trust Simon to take care of Caillen. As for the Duchess of Nithesdale coming to London? Leave it to me. By the end of the Season, she will be knocking down your door … and I will spoil my grandchild like no other.” With a swish of silks and muslin she quit the room and never looked back, the curls in her hair bouncing as they would have when she was a young woman in love.
A year ago, he would not have believed he could sit in the same room as his mother and have a meaningful conversation. Yet now, he trusted the Dowager Duchess. He also knew that Iseabail was on a mission to right a wrong, and she would stop at nothing short of achieving her goal.