by Alexa Aston
“Live here?”
He couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. His mind whirled, learning first how he and Laurel had been the products of rape. He’d always assumed their father had already been married or left when he found out Dinah was pregnant. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought she’d been brutalized, much less by a peer of the realm.
“Do you hear me, Hudson? The St. Clairs wanted me. Us, actually. I told them I had a twin and they are thrilled. They want to get to know us.”
He jerked his hand from hers. “You’re mad, Laurel. No high and mighty duke and his family would ever want us.”
“We do,” said a quiet voice behind Hudson.
He wheeled and saw the man he now knew as the Duke of Everton standing there. Beside him were his brother and sister. The three looked so much alike, it was uncanny. And the fact they resembled Laurel—and him—was eerie.
“We are St. Clairs,” the duke said. “We always stand together. Our father was a blackguard of the worst kind. He drank and gambled and wenched his life away. He was the worst man I ever knew. Especially since he never claimed responsibility for you.”
Laurel’s hand found Hudson’s and clasped it.
“I know we are strangers to you both,” the duke continued. “We—Rachel, Luke, and I—want to remedy that. You are St. Clairs as much as we are. The three of us all had different mothers but we don’t feel as if we are half-brothers or half-sisters. Together, we are whole and better for it.”
The other brother stepped forward. “We want you as a part of our family, Hudson. Just like a marriage, for better or worse. We have a lot of years to catch up on but you are both St. Clairs.” He grinned. “You are our relatives for life, whether you like it or not.”
The sister smiled. “Jeremy and Luke are right. We look forward to getting to know you. You are as much a St. Clair as the rest of us.”
With that, she flung herself at Hudson, wrapping her arms tightly about him.
“You . . . I mean . . . my lady . . . you’re getting filthy,” he sputtered.
Rachel laughed. “You need to be put in a tub of hot water and scrubbed within an inch of your life, Hudson. I can’t wait to see what you look like without all that coal smudging your face.”
She released him, her pale gown now stained dark, and both Jeremy and Luke wrapped their arms about him.
“We’re never letting go, Hudson,” Luke promised. “You’ve got a large, loving family now. You’re not getting rid of us. You need to come and meet our spouses. And Cor, of course.”
“Cor?” he asked, still overwhelmed by these three and the idea he and Laurel were wanted.
“She’s our grandmother,” Jeremy said. “With all our mothers dying in childbirth, she raised the three of us. Cor is the wisest woman you will ever meet. Come on.”
Hudson saw all three of the St. Clairs wearing coal dust on their fine clothes, which were now ruined beyond repair. Their eyes were bright and they were laughing and smiling, actually happy to have discovered lost siblings who were bastards.
He looked at Laurel. In her eyes, he saw how desperately she wanted to be a part of something beyond the two of them. She had always been the one to make the sacrifices in their family. She left school early so he could remain, even holding down two jobs to make the rent. She completed the sewing jobs Mama had taken when her eyes failed, working until the wee hours of each morning. Even now, she went without food to ensure he didn’t starve.
If joining this family would ease Laurel’s burdens, Hudson was all for it.
“I’m game if you are,” he told his twin, his only friend, the person he loved above all others.
“Thank you,” she whispered fervently. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”
The duke turned, waiting for a decision. Hudson nodded and Jeremy smiled with satisfaction.
“Cor is waiting,” Jeremy said. Leaning in, he added, “She will be your biggest supporter. I guarantee it.”
With that, the five St. Clair siblings returned to the drawing room. Hudson didn’t know that’s what it was called at the time.
He only knew life as he’d known it would be changed forever.
Chapter One
Morris Park, Surrey—December 1825
Mia Sloane blinked several times, wondering where she’d fallen asleep this time. She looked at her surroundings and discovered she was in the cluttered drawing room. An open journal rested in her lap. Nelson, her cat, lay between her legs. The room was filled with sunshine. From the angle of the rays, she believed it was mid-morning.
Sleepily, she rubbed her eyes. She had fallen asleep trying to work out a mathematical formula, hoping it would help with her latest invention. Scattered pages lay on the floor next to the settee. All failures. Since she had finally gotten some rest, she hoped she could figure out what had stumped her.
Nelson saw she was awake and stood, stretching lazily. He walked up the length of her, standing on her chest. She stroked his face with her knuckles and he began to purr noisily.
“Good morning, my sweet friend,” she said, kissing him atop his head and continuing to pet him. “We need to get up. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
She heard the door at the far end of the drawing room open. Before she sat up, she heard a voice from her past.
“You simply must find them. I haven’t come all this way not to be seen.”
It was Aunt Fanny.
Mia lay perfectly still, not wanting to reveal she was in the room. The last time she had seen her aunt had to be a good decade or more. Lord Trentham, Fanny’s husband, worked for England’s diplomatic corps. After the war with Bonaparte finally ended, Trentham had been assigned to a post somewhere in Europe. Mia couldn’t remember where at the moment. She’d received a few letters from Aunt Fanny, as had her father, but Mia was always so busy that she hadn’t bothered to reply after the first few arrived. She did remember Lord Trentham had moved throughout Europe but not being interested, she did what her father usually did—ignored or forgot what was important.
“Bring tea, Aunt Fanny commanded. “I’m parched. I expect Lord Morrison and Lady Mia to arrive when the tea does. If not sooner. Now, go!”
“Yes, my lady,” their butler said.
She wondered if today would be a good day or a bad one for Papa. If good, he might have seen Aunt Fanny arrive and already be hiding from her. If bad, things could turn ugly. On those days, Papa often didn’t know who some people were or what he was doing. That’s why Mia had stepped in and had begun to handle most of the experiments. She’d worked with her father for years and knew about every invention and what stage it was in. Eventually, she’d taken over, completing inventions and filing for the patents in his name.
Aunt Fanny’s arrival might ruin everything.
“What on earth do they do here?” her aunt asked aloud.
Mia knew what the drawing room must look like to outsiders. It was filled with tables containing various projects. The entire house was the same. Since they never entertained, numerous inventions had eventually taken over room after room. Even half the stables had been converted to a workshop, where Mia now worked on a new type of steam engine. She had perfected it and even had an interested buyer coming after Christmas to inspect it. If this Mr. St. Clair she’d corresponded with purchased the design and device, it would mean she could pay the few servants remaining what was owed and have money left over to pay the bills owed to various shopkeepers in the local village. She only wished she could earn enough to restore the house. The roof leaked. The staircase was beginning to rot. New paint and carpets were sorely needed. She could only imagine what Aunt Fanny was thinking.
She decided being a coward didn’t suit her. Their servants would find Papa and bring him to the drawing room. It wouldn’t be fair for him to face Aunt Fanny’s wrath alone. Mia might even be able to calm her aunt so that by the time Papa arrived, all would be well.
Lifting Nelson, she placed him on the ground and then gave a loud si
gh, stretching her arms high and sitting up. She deliberately rubbed her eyes and as she stood, she saw a horrified Aunt Fanny spy Mia and gasp.
“What are you wearing?” her aunt demanded shrilly.
Mia crossed the room, Nelson trailing after her. “Why, hello, Aunt Fanny. It’s so good to see you. I must have fallen asleep on the settee.”
She went to kiss her aunt’s cheek but Fanny threw out an arm. She eyed Mia from head to toe.
“This is disgraceful. It’s far worse than I ever could have imagined. You’re in trousers, Mia. Stained ones at that. A rumpled shirt. Your hair a mess. Good God! What has been going on here?”
She shrugged. “Work, as usual.”
“Work?” Her aunt sniffed. “The kind of work you should be doing is planning menus and doing needlepoint. Ladylike pursuits. Do you even bother with that?”
“Cook is perfectly happy to set the menus each week,” Mia replied. “I don’t know anything about needlepoint, though. Or any type of sewing. I suppose I could learn but I haven’t the time.”
Her aunt touched her forehead as if a strong pain had struck her. “My sister is turning over in her grave.” She shook her head. “When is the last time you wore a dress?”
Mia thought. “I’m not sure. It’s much easier to work dressed this way.”
“What about going to church each week?”
“Papa has never been one for organized religion,” she admitted. “We don’t attend services.”
Another gasp. Oh, this wasn’t going well at all.
“What about when you see your friends? Do you dress like a man then?”
The question startled her. “I . . . don’t really see friends, Aunt.”
“Why not?”
She clasped her hands. “I don’t have any, you see. I don’t leave Morris Park. Papa doesn’t entertain. He—we—are much too busy working on his inventions, you see. I don’t have time for frivolous activities.”
Fury filled Aunt Fanny’s face. “Oh, this is so much worse than I could have imagined. I told Trentham. He won’t believe this. Mia, you need—”
“Fanny? Is that you?”
Thank goodness Papa had arrived. Mia noted he was dressed as a proper country gentleman and she would have to thank his valet for that. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him in a coat and cravat. At least he appeared to be aware of his surroundings today. And he had called her aunt by name.
“Morrison, you are a disgrace,” Aunt Fanny proclaimed. “You have been derelict in your duties. I knew I should have taken Mia with us when Trentham was assigned abroad. I have let my sister down. You, sir, have let her down. Mia, as well.”
Papa frowned. She only hoped her aunt wasn’t confusing him, especially mentioning Mama. Sometimes, her father still believed his wife was alive. It was easier to mollify him by telling him she was taking a nap or working in the garden and that he could see her later.
“Why do you say that?” he asked. “I spend a majority of every day with my daughter. Her mother would be proud. Mia can do complicated formulas in her head. She does outstanding work with machines. She is a veritable wizard when it comes to chemical . . .”
Then his brows knit together and his voice trailed off. Mia knew they would be losing him.
“What good is that to a young woman?” her aunt demanded. “Mia should have wed years ago. As it is, she is on the shelf.”
“On the shelf?” her father repeated, his tone uncertain.
“Yes, Morrison. On the shelf.” Her aunt frowned. “Do you know what that even means?”
“No,” he admitted.
“It means she is old, Morrison. A spinster who may not be able to ever find a husband.”
“No, she isn’t,” her father insisted. “She’s . . . she’s . . .” His voice faded.
Dread filled Mia.
Aunt Fanny asked, “Do you even know how old your daughter is, Morrison?”
“She’s . . . she’s . . . ten and six?” he guessed.
She went and slipped her arm through his. “No, Papa. I am four and twenty. In three weeks, when the first day of the new year comes, I will turn five and twenty.”
A baffled expression filled his face. “You are an adult?”
“Yes, Papa. I have been for quite some time.”
“This is ridiculous. A man who doesn’t even know hold old his only child is. You have sadly neglected Mia, Morrison. You . . .” Her aunt stopped mid-sentence.
Mia saw why. Papa now wandered about the room, fingering things, looking bewildered. She knew his thoughts jumbled and it would be hard for him to carry on a conversation for several hours.
“What’s wrong with him, Mia?” Aunt Fanny asked quietly.
“Papa has . . . spells,” she replied. “He functions normally and then he gets confused.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“For a while,” she admitted, not wanting her aunt to know it had gone on for over five years and worsened over the last three.
“You can’t remain here.”
“Where would we go?” she countered.
“There’s no we to this, Mia,” her aunt said firmly. “Morrison is unwell.”
“Then I am the one who will tend to him. There’s no one else.”
“We’ll find someone,” Aunt Fanny insisted. “You will need to see to closing up the house. Relieving the servants of their positions. You’ll come to London for the Season.”
“The Season?” she asked. “What is that?”
“Oh, dear God in His heaven. The Season is when Polite Society gathers for social events. There are balls. Parties. Musicales. Theater and opera.” Her aunt gazed at her steadily. “It’s also where you can find a husband.”
“I’ve never thought of marrying, Aunt. Besides, Papa needs me.”
“Do you know who his solicitor is?”
Puzzled, Mia said, “Yes.”
“We need to contact him at once and see that a dowry has been provided for you.” Fanny stopped and sighed. “A dowry is given to your husband upon your wedding. It’s something that will help attract a man to you.”
Mia chuckled. “There can’t be a dowry if there’s no money, Aunt. I handle matters for the estate and have for years. We live very frugally.”
“There’s no money at all?”
“No, Aunt.”
Fanny thought. “What about unentailed properties?”
“Only what Mama brought into the marriage,” she replied. “It’s a small manor house and has been empty for years. I’ve considered selling it to keep Morris Park and Papa’s experiments going.”
In truth, she had already decided to do so in the coming year, knowing the day would arrive when she and George, Papa’s valet, wouldn’t be able to manage him and her father might need to go away for care, or at least have someone here who could help with him.
“It will be sold and used for your dowry,” her aunt proclaimed. She glanced at her brother-in-law. “He’s in a bad way, Mia. Surely, you can see that.”
Mia knew it. She just hadn’t wanted to admit it. There had been days when Papa hadn’t known who she was. She worried about him hurting himself, especially when he wandered off. Since there’d been no family to turn to, she’d tried to handle everything herself.
“Does Morrison’s nephew know?”
The question startled her. “No. I would never have shared this with Cousin Horatio.”
Her cousin had only visited a handful of times over the years and not once since Mama had died. Since she was an only child and a girl, Horatio would inherit the viscountcy and Morris Park.
“I heard he wed last year.”
Mia nodded. “He did. We received an invitation but the ceremony took place in London. I couldn’t take Papa there. He’s better when he’s around familiar things.” She gestured to herself. “Besides, what would I have worn to a society wedding?”
Aunt Fanny came and wrapped Mia in an embrace. “Oh, my sweet girl. This must have be
en very hard on you.”
“Papa cared for me when Mama died. It was only natural I should take care of him when he became ill.”
Her aunt stroked her hair. “I, too, should have cared better for you when my sister passed. I blame myself for this situation. If only we hadn’t gone abroad. Oh, well. What’s done is done.” She kissed Mia’s cheek. “Give me the name of your father’s solicitor. I will see that Trentham starts things in motion. We’ll bring Morrison to London. Have him seen by the best doctors. Find someone to come in and care for him. You’ll both live with us. We have a lot of work to do.”
For the first time since her mother’s death, Mia began to cry. She’d been overwhelmed for so long, trying to care for the estate and her father at the same time. Trying to keep his few customers happy and continue creating the inventions he had started years ago and now was too feeble-minded to attend to. She’d had no one to lean on or confide in.
Aunt Fanny pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away Mia’s tears. “Don’t worry, love. You’ll be taken care of. I’ll set everything in motion. Trentham and I will return at the first of the year and see you and Morrison moved to our London home.” She brightened. “Once you’re there, we’ll prepare you for the upcoming Season. You must learn how to dress. Hold a conversation. Dance. It will be difficult and very different from what you’re used to. In the long run, we’ll land you a husband. You will have the life your mother meant for you to live.”
Mia started to say she didn’t want a husband but knew correcting Aunt Fanny wouldn’t go over well. A husband and children were the last things Mia wanted.
Especially since she planned to continue on her chosen path of being an inventor.
Chapter Two
Eversleigh—Christmas Eve, 1825
Hudson St. Clair tossed the blanket aside and climbed from the carriage. Footmen scurried from the house to collect his luggage.
“Be sure to get the boxes inside the vehicle,” he instructed. “Those are to go to His Grace’s study.”
He strode toward the house, the afternoon’s dark skies threatening to dump rain at any moment. Barton greeted him at the door.