Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Are you all right?” he asked just then.
“I was four when you first asked me that question in this very home,” I replied, hugging the shawl around me more tightly.
“You remember?” The corner of his mouth turned up. “That was the first time we met each other. I had met your brother before but not you.”
“I was scared my mama had forgotten me. And Damon was playing…”
“And you had gotten hungry. So, I brought you to the kitchen, and I was not sure what to offer, but you had already found the servant’s pork pie.” He chuckled, and it made me smile. “I turned around, and you were eating with your hands.”
“And, of course, that was when my mama reappeared.” I laughed, as I could remember her shrieking my name in horror. “She forced me to spend extra time at table lessons once we returned home.”
“You do not recall what happened before that?” he asked.
I paused. “No.”
“You became ill. The cook was getting rid of the pie, it had gone bad. You became sick, and my mother…” He paused, swallowing. And I remembered she had died later that same year. He was only ten years old. “Our mothers were terrified, and the doctor was called. The cook, Damon, and I were reprimanded severely for not watching out for you. My mother was even more beside herself than yours for days, even after you had gotten better.”
“Well, that might explain why I cannot stand to look upon pork pie. Even now.”
“Yes, I know.”
We found ourselves staring at each other. It was only when the door opened that I turned away to see my brother had entered, wearing clothing that I could only assume belonged to Evander. His gaze shifted between us, and then, without a word, he walked over to tend the fire.
“I have sent word to Mother and Father. We shall stay the night here,” he said, tossing another log onto the flame.
“We will?” Papa would not like that, while Mama, I was sure, would be grinning happily somewhere by her own fire.
“The rains have not eased, and your carriage needs repair,” Evander said. “It is best to go in the morning.”
“It is also good for her to retire early,” Damon interjected, now poking the fire, making it obvious that he was my chaperone. Slowly, he moved to the other side of the room to gaze out of the window, giving us distance. “Do not mind me. Speak as you must.”
“I think it is best for you to sit by the fire,” Evander said, noticing I still shivered.
Feeling the chill once more, I moved to sit. He no longer looked at me but at the flames beside me. It was three full minutes, at least, before he spoke again.
“You know about my mother?” he finally asked.
I nodded. All of the ton spoke of her, the great Lady Luella Farraday, beloved by everyone except her husband, the duke.
“Your father had…” I stopped, not desiring to harm him with the words.
“My father had a kept woman,” he said. “A Miss Datura Topwells. He would not marry her, as he sought a wife of noble birth, but he kept her, nonetheless. He had a son with her, Fitzwilliam. All of this was kept from those who knew him, even my mother. It was only when she gave birth to me that she discovered the truth. That was when my father allowed Miss Topwells into Everely. It was more than my mother could bear, but she could not leave, for my sake. My father had his heir and would see me raised as such under him…beside his other son.”
“He grew up alongside you?” I frowned, not remembering ever meeting this brother. “I knew of him, but I have never seen him.”
“Yes, and my father at least had the sense to avoid parading Fitzwilliam or his mother around. But they were very much in our lives.”
I did not know it could be worse and I did not want to.
“I shall not bore you with more. Instead, I shall explain how this forced me to break my promises four years ago.”
I was fearful of this truth, but I desired it more than anything else.
“As Fitzwilliam grew up with all the finery that comes with being a duke’s son, he grew more frustrated by the two things he was not given—status and recognition. This worsened when my father passed, and I inherited everything. He was enraged. He believed it was his right, not mine. We had never maintained a good relationship, but any pretense died along with my father. He demanded part of the estate, which I refused, and sought to have him and his mother removed from Everely. I also sent our younger brother to Eton. For years, I had waited for that moment, so I did not hesitate. To avoid having her living in poverty—she was still the mother of my younger brother and the former wife of a duke—I gave them funds. I even bought apartments in London for Datura but made it clear that I sought to never look upon their faces again. And that they were not welcome to return. Fitzwilliam swore revenge. I scoffed, paying him no mind, for what could he do? Then he took you from me.”