The smile etched on Eudora’s features faded. She sat a little more upright as she demanded, “What on earth do you mean, Sir Seymour? Why should anything have happened to Peregrine?”
Sir Seymour gave her a penetrating look. “Madam, I hope you have a strong constitution. The next few minutes are going to prove exceedingly difficult. Harriet, my dear, it might be wise to ring for some brandy.”
The effect of the news upon Mrs Sloane was everything Sophie had anticipated, and more. Disbelief was swiftly followed by anger, mostly aimed at Sophie. Eudora initially tried to blame her for Perry’s behaviour, a view rebutted by Theo and then by Sir Seymour, whose authoritative manner left Mrs Sloane in no doubt Peregrine was indeed the Bath Fox and he and he alone was responsible for his actions. Sir Seymour also deftly implied that unless Peregrine followed his advice, the force of the law would be unleashed upon him.
Eudora’s anger was slowly replaced by fear. As the full import of Peregrine’s double life and its consequences dawned, she shrank visibly in stature and in confidence. The ambition she had invested in her son had been shattered and the life blood seemed to drain out of her as a result. By the time Sir Seymour had finished, her complexion had taken on a greyish tinge and she was almost hysterical, babbling incoherently and sobbing into her handkerchief while being comforted by Olivia.
Watching, Sophie felt surprisingly moved by Eudora’s distress. She felt no affection for her aunt, but it was not pleasant to witness someone’s life falling down around them. A person would have to be made of stone not to feel compassion at such a moment. Sophie could never recall seeing her aunt cry before. She had always been a woman who prided herself on her self-control, as well as revelling in her control over others. Now she was both powerless and distraught.
“My poor boy!” cried Eudora, clutching at Olivia’s hand and hiccupping on another sob. “What can you suggest, Sir Seymour? What must he do?”
“Nothing until his wounds have healed, but then he must go away, out of society, for if his activities should become known, my influence will count for nothing. He must also return any stolen property. I will see it is discreetly returned to its rightful owners.”
“Away?” repeated Eudora in a hollow voice, sniffing.
“For an extended period, several years at least,” he explained. “Sir Charles Lawson, an aide to the Duke of Manchester, is looking for a secretary to accompany him on his posting to Kingston. I intend to propose Peregrine.
“Kingston?” Eudora’s expression brightened a little. “But that is not too distant. At least Olivia and I will be able to visit often and it is a pleasant place, I believe, near the Thames—”
“My dear lady,” interjected Sir Seymour gravely, “I do not refer to the town in Surrey. I am talking about Kingston, the capital of Jamaica. In the West Indies.”
The response was a soft thud as Eudora fainted and toppled onto the pile of silk cushions adorning the Dinniscombes’ sofa.
Chapter 16
It was some time before Mrs Sloane was well enough to be transported back to her hotel. Recovering from her faint and disposed full length on the sofa, she had moaned faintly, unable to speak until a copy of the Morning Post and burnt feathers had been waved under her nose, and she had swallowed some of the brandy held up to her lips. She then demanded in a wavering voice to be taken to see Peregrine, until she was persuaded the journey was not advisable at this hour and in her agitated state.
Harriet, who had by now gleaned a great deal about Olivia’s treatment at Ludstone, put aside her poor opinion of Mrs Sloane and offered to accompany her back to Fenton’s. Once there, Harriet stayed until she was satisfied that Eudora was as comfortable as could be expected and assured that lady she would be taken to see her son first thing tomorrow morning.
While Harriet was attempting to calm Mrs Sloane’s ragged nerves, Sir Seymour and Theo had retired to the study in Grosvenor Square to discuss events over a glass of burgundy, leaving Sophie alone with Olivia. Olivia had been quiet throughout the scene with her mother and remained withdrawn since. Her eyes held a stricken look.
“Livvy, are you alright?” ventured Sophie at last. “I’m sorry you had to hear about Perry in this fashion. It must have come as a dreadful shock.”
“Not as much as you might think,” she murmured, “I already knew what he was.” After telling Sophie about her conversation with Mr. Grey, Olivia added with a disconsolate shake of her head, “What I did not realize, and what distresses me most, is the lengths he would go to. I thought I knew him, but it seems I never did.” Her eyes lifted to Sophie’s. “I believe he is a little deranged.”
“There is a kind of madness in his soul,” she agreed, “but you are not alone in being fooled by him. He fooled us all.”
“Yes, even poor Mama. The revelations are worse for her because she dotes on him. She has always indulged and petted Perry, and considered him beyond reproach. And now this.” Olivia twisted her hands in her lap. “Sophie, I fear for her reason in the months to come. She has been unkind to me, but I could not help feeling sorry for her this evening.”
“You have the sweetest, most generous nature, love, but don’t be too forgiving. They don’t deserve it. It will take time, but somehow Eudora will have to come to terms with what Perry has done, and what he is. And Perry will have to accept his punishment. They are not your responsibility.”
“But what about the scandal?”
“Sir Seymour has vowed to suppress any gossip, and I know he will succeed—his appearance belies his competence.” Sophie then grasped Olivia’s hands between her own. “There is something else. I hardly know how to tell you, but you have a right to know. Indeed, you must, because it explains so much.”
Olivia listened in silence while Sophie told her the truth about her birth. When she had finished, Olivia stared silently into mid-distance until she gave a sudden, shattering sob and flung herself into Sophie’s arms. She continued crying for some minutes, during which time Sophie spoke soothingly but did not urge her to stop, reasoning it was better to let the tempest pass.
As Olivia’s sobs subsided at last, Sophie murmured, “Oh love, I’m so sorry! You are dreadfully upset, as I knew you must be. Everything you ever believed has turned out to be false. How do you feel?”
“I-I don’t know,” admitted Olivia, getting to her feet and blowing her nose. “I suppose I am sad, but relieved at the same time. Many things make sense now. If only I had known earlier! For years, I tried to make Mama like me. As time went on I accepted she never would, but I could not understand why she hated me so much.” She looked at Sophie, tears sparkling on the end of her lashes as she whispered, “This changes everything, doesn’t it?”
“Why should it?” said Sophie softly. “I will always love you dearly, nothing will alter that. Eudora will not want to advertise the truth and no one else need ever know.”
“Perhaps, but word may get out and I will know. I cannot continue living a lie.” She hiccupped on another sob. “Oh, I need time to think! Sophie, do you mind leaving me alone for a while?”
“Are you sure that is what you want?” asked Sophie, wrinkling her brow. “Quite sure.”
She gave Olivia’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Of course. I’ll go upstairs and change. Naturally you need time to adjust to this news, but pray don’t let it affect your confidence. You are your own delightful self. It does not matter who your parents were.” She gripped Olivia’s fingers a little tighter. “Promise me you won’t get too upset while I am gone.”
“I’ll try,” agreed Olivia with an attempt at a smile.
Sophie hugged her hard and went out, leaving Olivia alone.
Olivia sank down on the sofa and for a long time she sat in silence, clasping trembling hands together, her emotions turbulent and confused. As she struggled to come to terms with her true identity and her past, she found it was her future that troubled her most.
Sorrow enveloped her like a shroud. This news had annihilated any dream
s she might have secretly cherished. And any chance of happiness. The cruellest blow of all was that only hours earlier she had glimpsed heaven on earth. She had relived those kisses over and over again, the way Luc’s lips had brushed against her skin and set her body and her mind ablaze. No kisses had ever been sweeter, or deeper, or expressed so much that words could not.
But now heaven on earth had been denied her forever. Broken dreams and unending loneliness stretched ahead, and the world was suddenly devoid of beauty. Olivia hated self-pity, but she wondered what she had done to deserve such misery and how long it took to die of a broken heart. Life was unfair, she’d always known that. She just hadn’t appreciated how much until today.
Absently pleating the rose-coloured silk skirt of her gown, some sixth sense made her look up. She started and let out a gasp. Luc Grey stood motionless in the shadows near the door, watching her. She had no idea how long he had been there. “Luc!” she whispered.
“Miss Sloane…Olivia.”
“You came back.”
“I promised I would,” he said, his voice low.
He came towards her then, his profile stern, his body held rigidly in check. The atmosphere was in sharp contrast to their last meeting. Luc seemed ill-at-ease and more reserved than ever, while Olivia could only stare at him, conscious of overwhelming grief for what might have been.
“H-How is Perry?” she managed to stammer at last.
“Seriously injured,” he admitted. “His leg is badly broken and the danger to his life has not yet passed, but he is being cared for in a kinder fashion than he deserves. You know what happened?”
She nodded. “So does Mama. She was here when Sophie and Theo arrived.” Olivia did not correct her slip. It still felt strange to think Eudora was not her mother.
As Luc sat down opposite her, Olivia saw the extreme weariness etched into his face. She longed to smooth those lines from his brow, to bring the elusive smile back into his eyes, but she could not. Not now. Not ever.
“I see.” His gaze, which had not wavered from hers since entering the room, fell and a sigh brushed past his lips. “You blame me, of course. Do not regard it. I understand how difficult it must be. It scarcely matters now, but believe me when I say I wish things had turned out differently.” He closed his eyes for a moment, saying in a barely audible voice, “Do you hate me now?”
“Hate you?”
“Your brother may be a thief, but he nearly died today because of me and at best he will be a cripple for life. How can you love the man responsible for that?” He clenched his hand into a fist and pressed it to his lips. “It was my duty to pursue him, and I despise him for the way he has treated you and your cousin, yet I wish with all my heart the outcome could have been different. He is still your brother. As soon as I’ve seen Sir Seymour, I’ll leave. You must want me out of your sight.”
She could see his eyes were moist. “Luc, I—”
He held up his hand, saying, “Before I go, I must and will speak freely. My way of life has made me a man of independent habits, Olivia. I have become so accustomed to solitude and selfcontainment that I do not find it easy to express my feelings, especially the most profound, but for you, I will try. You were prepared to trust me earlier when you knew nothing about me. I determined then that you would know everything, and soon. That time has come and for once, I am uncaring about my position, my duty, my orders or any consequences…you deserve the truth. I’ll begin with my name. I call myself Luc Grey, but my full name is Lord Lucius Alexander Warwick du Grey. “
Olivia’s eyes opened a little wider. “I sensed you were not quite as you pretended to be. So, this is one of your many secrets?”
He nodded. “My twin brother Darius, who is the elder by ten minutes, is the current Duke of Merton. You may have heard of him.”
“The famously reclusive Duke?” said Olivia, her brows rising. “Lady Dinniscombe mentioned him. She said he is a solitary figure who has not been seen in society for some years. I did not realize he was your brother.”
“I do not advertise the fact,” said Luc. “In my line of work, it is advisable to be as inconspicuous as possible. This,” he added with the hint of a smile, pointing to the ribbon of white among his dark locks, “is a family trait, and a severe drawback to those efforts. I often use dyes to conceal it.”
“And that mark on your cheek?” she asked softly, acknowledging to herself how much she had grown to love the little crescent shaped mark.
“A powder burn from a rifle. I was an officer in the Light Dragoons, then the 95th, before being appointed an Observing Officer.”
Shock flitted over her face. “You went behind enemy lines?”
“Very often, alongside my regular duties. I was attached to Wellington’s Intelligence Services. A hazardous occupation, but one I found I excelled at. I speak French fluently, and had taught myself Spanish during the early months of the Peninsula campaign. I led small reconnaissance patrols, probing deep behind enemy lines to gather information and reporting by letter to Wellington himself on enemy numbers and movements, and the topography of the area. At other times, I led my men into battle. Fuentes d’Onoro, Badajoz, Cuidad Rodrigo, Salamanca…I saw action at them all. After Waterloo, I returned home, sickened of war and death and in need of a new cause. “
He then repeated all he and Sir Seymour had told Theo, adding, “When I was approached by Sir Nathaniel with his offer to work under the auspices of Bow Street it appealed to me, although I expected my duties to be relatively mundane. I did not think to find as much evil and violence in England as I had encountered during the war but it is here, hidden in the hearts of men for whom crime is a profession.” He grimaced as he observed, “I have been kept busy.”
Then, as he recounted some of the details of his life in recent years in an astonishingly matter-of-fact fashion, Olivia’s eyes grew round with horror. Humbled by his bravery and modesty, her admiration for the man before her grew even as her heart ached for the brutality he had been obliged to witness in war, and in peace.
“When I was dispatched to investigate the Bath Fox, little did I expect that I would lose my heart to the sister of the man I had to bring to justice,” he concluded, his eyes meeting hers. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I’m no hero. You don’t need to tell me you can never love your brother’s nemesis.” His breath caught in his throat as he confessed, “I should not have kissed you earlier. I knew then nothing could come of it. Indeed, I should have asked long ago to be removed from the investigation when my feelings for you were affecting my ability to do my duty but to do so would have meant being sent away, and that I found I could not bear.”
“And now?”
He stared at her, and she saw his hand clench on the arm of the sofa. “My heart will be forever yours, and I’ll be in hell from this day on, but you must forget me,” he said evenly. “I am not the proper man for you.”
“I’d like you to tell me why exactly,” she said, a quiver in her voice.
He swallowed hard. “Because not only have I made it impossible for you to love me, but you deserve so much more than I can give. My existence is hardly suited to marriage. I couldn’t ask any woman to share it, least of all the woman I love more than my life. And, despite my title and contrary appearances, I am not a rich man. The wealth I displayed to gain Peregrine’s attention was provided for use during my duties. The reality is I have to make my own way in the world. My lodgings in London are modest and my estate, if it can be called such, is a small property in Hertfordshire, overrun by mice and in desperate need of repair. I have some savings, but there is nothing else. No hidden treasure, no wealthy relatives waiting to leave me money. You see my father, a violent drunk, spent years gambling away the family fortune before demanding my brother and I make marriages of convenience to wealthy brides. We had been educated at home and seen nothing of the world, being not even out of our teens. Our sister, Cecilia, who was still a child, was too young to be betrothed, but the same fate undoubtedly awaited her. We
saw how unhappy our mother had been in her arranged marriage, how bitterness and regret had slowly sucked the life out of her and brought about her early death, and we refused. My brother took the brunt of our father’s anger then as he had done in the past. Darius always tried to protect us. The treatment he received over time left its mark on him. That is one reason why he shuns society now. With Darius‘s help, I managed to get away, scraping together enough money to buy a commission and make a life in the army. It suited me…the private education I had received had laid down habits of concentration and discipline, and the hours spent fencing and shooting with my brother were put to use. Darius sent Cecilia to Yorkshire to live with an elderly spinster aunt. It was not the ideal situation for a young girl, but at least there she was away from our father’s influence.”
“What happened to him?”
“My father? He came to an ignominious end. He died some years ago after falling down the stairs in a drunken stupor.”
She watched his lips firm and a muscle throb in his jaw. She knew his expressions and mannerisms well enough now to know that beneath the stern cast of his face he was striving to contain a torrent of emotion.
“What a sad childhood you must have endured.”
He shrugged. “No worse than many others. You don’t need to pity me.”
“I don’t. I only pity the defenceless boy subjected to his father’s drunken rages. Nor do I hate you for bringing Perry to justice.”
He looked up quickly. “How can you not?” he asked, incredulous.
“Even if Perry was my brother, I could not hate you for doing what needed to be done. It was Perry’s fault his carriage went into the canal.”
Immediately he latched on to her first words. “What do you mean by ’even if he was my brother?’”
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