“Oh, Papa, how awful for you.” She grabbed her father’s hand and tugged him onto the bench beside her.
“It was meant to be, I suppose. If I hadn’t married your mother, then I wouldn’t have you, now would I?” He reached up and gently ran a finger down her flushed cheek.
“Yes, I suppose.”
They both turned to Conrad again, looking as if for a moment, they’d forgotten his existence. What must it be like to be loved so unconditionally by someone? To be thought of with such esteem and gladness?
Conrad had never known. Would he ever?
“Pardon us, my lord,” said Andrew. “You were saying?”
Being still overcome with emotion at having witnessed the tender scene, it was a few seconds before he found that he could indeed speak intelligently. “Yes… My mother confirmed knowing you and…”
Leaning forward, Andrew lowered his voice as he spoke. “Tell me, if you will, why she ran away? Was it something I said or did? It’s plagued me all of these years, the not knowing.”
“I will tell you. It’s not something that’s easy to say, I’m afraid.”
Cecilia bit her lip. “Oh my, has something happened to your mother? Is she in poor health?”
“No, she’s fine.” At least physically. But a real bear to contend with. “The reason she fled was not because of you, Mr. Fletcher. Well, it was and it wasn’t…”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Lord Lofton.”
Why couldn’t he just spout out the words and be done with it?
Because what you say next could change your whole life. And it might not be for the better.
“The reason my mother left and didn’t say good-bye to you was because she found herself to be… in the family way.”
Father and daughter both inhaled as one. Cecilia’s eyes grew round and Andrew’s face turned as red as an apple.
Hadn’t Mother mentioned her father owning an apple cart? An incongruous thought in the midst of turmoil.
Andrew shook his head ever so slowly. “But… I didn’t know… I—”
“Of that I’m aware, Mr. Fletcher. Please don’t think I’m here to lay blame in any way.”
The other man raised his gaze to Conrad. “And just what happened to this… child? M-my child. Is he or she in London? Can I meet…?”
“The child is indeed in London. In this very park, in fact.”
Both of them whipped around their heads to peer behind them, as if the person they sought were standing there. When they turned back toward Conrad, they wore similar puzzled expressions. Brows lowered, mouths turned down at the corners. Cecilia remained quiet, but Andrew spoke. “May I meet…?”
“You’ve already met him.”
“So it’s a son, then.”
“Yes, a son.”
“But when did I meet him? Where?” He spread his hands.
“You’ve met him in your shop… and you’re… looking at him… now.”
Andrew stood. “That’s impossible. Are you not Lord Lofton?”
“I am.”
“So your father was also an earl?”
“That’s where the story takes a turn. Yes, my father was an earl. Or so I thought. It seems when my mother found herself to be in the family way, she decided…”
Andrew blinked. “I can imagine what she decided. I had no money. Miriam always had an eye for the finer things, wishing she was wealthy. That she didn’t live the life we lived.”
“Yes. From what’s she’s recently told me, that’s how it was.”
Cecilia stood as well. “So you’re my… you’re really my…?” Her hand pressed against her mouth.
“But how can I be sure you’re… my son?” Andrew put his arm around his daughter and waited.
Conrad smiled. A small smile, but one he hoped conveyed his true feelings. “My mother has assured me that I am not Lord Lofton’s true heir and therefore the only possibility is that I am…”
“My son.”
“Yes, sir.”
Andrew jumped. “Please, my lord, don’t address me as such.”
“You are my father. And I am not in reality an earl.”
Andrew stepped closer, drawing Conrad’s sister to them as well. “I’m so surprised… overcome… pleased.”
Conrad’s heart nearly burst from joy. Pleased. Someone was pleased. By him.
“But if you’re not really an earl, then…?”
“That’s the sticky part, I’m afraid. If you consent, I’d love nothing more than to have a… friendship with you both.”
Andrew nodded. “But you can’t acknowledge who you really are and keep your life as it is.”
“When you say it in such a way, it does sound selfish. Perhaps…”
“No, no. I meant not to offend or condemn. You’ve been raised to this life you’ve led. You weren’t responsible for your mother’s actions. Or mine. And it appears that until recently, you knew not who your real father was.”
“Very recently. Yes.”
“How did you know? Had Miriam confessed?”
“She only confirmed it after I confronted her. It was…” He looked at Cecilia. His sister. “It was when Cecilia mentioned that you and I seemed similar. That she could almost imagine we could be related, if she hadn’t known better. That coupled with my mother’s words told me the whole tale.”
She blushed. “If you must know, I regretted those words I said to you after you left. I felt I shouldn’t have said something so personal to an earl.”
“When in fact, you hadn’t.”
Cecilia laughed. What a lovely, musical sound.
Andrew reached out this hand to Conrad, who grasped it warmly. “I’m so pleased to know you, Lord Lofton.”
“You many call me Conrad, if you wish.”
“Only when there’s no one about.”
“May I call you Andrew when we are alone? My mother told me your Christian name.”
“I’d be honored.”
Conrad turned to Cecilia and took her hand with the intent of kissing it. Instead, the girl threw her arms around his neck, giving him a tight, warm hug. His throat constricted and tears threatened to fall.
When she stepped away, her eyes glistened as well. Andrew’s mouth lifted into a smile. “I’m afraid we must return to my shop, Lord… Conrad.”
“I understand. And thank you for meeting with me today.”
“No,” said his father. “Thank you.”
Chapter Sixteen
A hard rap came from the other side of Amelia’s bedroom door.
“Yes?”
The door opened. Their butler, Gordon bowed his head. “Pardon me, Miss Talbot, but you have a caller waiting in the parlor.”
Conrad. “Splendid. Please send Annie in. Thank you.”
As soon as the maid arrived, Amelia sprung into action. “Annie, I need to look my best for Lord Lofton.”
Annie stood behind her as she arranged Amelia’s hair. The maid sputtered a laugh.
“Something amusing?” Amelia turned her head to the side just enough so that Annie would see her displeasure.
Another giggle followed. “Oh no, Miss Talbot. Of course not.”
Insolent maid. How dare she poke fun at me? It would be just like her to do something outrageous with the back of my hair and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.
Changing her gown came next. Amelia picked a dark blue one, a choice sure to get her betrothed’s attention. A pair of satin slippers came last. Once finished, Amelia stood by the door and took a calming breath. “Wish me luck, Annie.”
“Oh you’ll need it.”
Amelia whirled around. “What was that?”
“Nothing.”
In a huff, Amelia left her room and descended the long staircase. What is Annie prattling on about? She’s met Conrad before, she knows that—
As soon as Amelia rounded the corner into the parlor, she stopped. Her feet ceased movement so quickly that if she hadn’t grabbed onto the doorframe, she would have
tumbled forward into her caller’s lap.
Not Conrad.
Old Man Griffith.
A shudder ran through her. She could have sworn even the roots of her hair quivered in disgust. Why? Why was he here? Father had assured her that he’d had quite a long talk with Lord Griffith, explaining that she was betrothed to another. Amelia barely registered Annie’s belated entrance into the parlor. The maid moved to stand in a far corner, a delighted smirk on her face.
So she’d known. And hadn’t warned me.
Amelia’s mouth went dry. “G-Good day, Lord Griffith.”
A pop and a creak came from the general vicinity of his neck when he turned his head in her direction. “Good day, my dear.”
My dear? “To what do we owe the honor of your visit, my lord?”
His eyes held a muted sparkle from somewhere in their faded blue depths. “Just wanted to see you before the big day.”
What big day? Hers and Conrad’s? He surely couldn’t mean… “I… see.”
“Join me, won’t you?” Lord Griffith patted the cushion on the settee right next to him.
Oh no, that won’t be happening. She rushed to a chair that was across the room. Way across the room.
Lord Griffith’s mouth formed a pout. “I was hoping you and I could get better acquainted.” His gaze drifted back to the settee while at the same time his weathered hand patted the cushion again. Twice.
She pressed herself against the back of her chair, wishing she could force away the wall behind her and keep putting distance between them until she reached Scotland. “I’m quite comfortable where I am. But thank you so much for the invitation.”
“As you wish.” A smile snaked across his chapped lips. “Our time will come.”
Pardon? Why was he speaking of them as if they were to…? No. Somehow there had been a misunderstanding between Lord Griffith and her father. Because right at that moment, the old man was licking his lips and his bushy white eyebrows moved up and down over his narrowed eyes.
How repulsive! Amelia twisted her hands in her lap. What to do? There must some way to gracefully bow out of her current situation, stuck as she was with him in the parlor.
And with him looking as if he’d love nothing better than to undress her and—
Gordon appeared in the doorway. “Miss Talbot, you have another caller.” He stepped away and allowed the new arrival to step in.
Conrad! He removed his hat and handed it to the retreating butler. “Good day, Miss Talbot. Pardon my intrusion. I didn’t realize you already had a guest.”
Not my guest! “Don’t be silly. Please join us, won’t you?” Please! For the love of heaven, join us!
Conrad stepped into the room near a chair fairly close to Amelia’s. He turned, greeted Lord Griffith and claimed his seat.
The older man harrumphed. And coughed, loudly. The hacking reminded Amelia of her cat when he groomed his fur with his tongue for too long a time.
Amelia smiled at Conrad. “It’s so pleasant to see you today, Lord Lofton.”
“Indeed? Is today perhaps different from another day?”
Amelia darted a glance at Lord Griffith and back to Conrad. “Oh… I’m just especially delighted you decided to make a call. Today.”
“Are you? Hmm. I was under the impression that we’d made plans today.”
“Did we?” She frowned, having no recollection of any such… She eyed Conrad more closely. What do you know? Conrad was doing her a favor. A huge one. “Yes, of course. How could I have forgotten the trip to the…”
“To the…” Conrad bit his lip.
“Um…” Think, Amelia.
Conrad reached up and touched his finger to his mouth.
“Ah yes, the surgeon-dentist. That’s where we’re going.”
Lord Griffith paled. “I’d not go near that place again. That last time I went, the barbarian ripped out every last one of my teeth, save two.”
Well, that explained the drool on the old man’s chin. Nothing to hold back the tide.
With a triumphant smile on her face for figuring out Conrad’s clue, she looked at him. He’d gone paler than the other earl in the room. Was he thinking about the day he’d been there? The day she’d overheard him? Of course, he wouldn’t have known about her involvement, but perhaps he’d had a bad experience if he’d had a tooth removed.
Amelia softened her voice. “Conrad, are you ill?”
He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed perspiration from his face. “What? Oh… no. I’m… It’s fine.” He blinked, dabbed his forehead once more and then a small smile curved up one corner of his mouth. He raised his voice and turned toward the older man.
“Say, Lord Griffith, we’re just on our way to the surgeon-dentist. Care to accompany us? The more the merrier.”
A gasp came from Lord Griffith. He shot off of the settee with the energy of a young man, his knees and ankles popping with the effort. “No! I…” He stepped to the door. “Pardon me, Miss Talbot, but I must be going.” Two more steps. “Perhaps we can speak at another time.” Three more steps and he disappeared out into the hallway.
The front door opened and closed.
“When I touched my lips, I intended it to mean an outing to get tea.” Conrad lifted an eyebrow.
“That’s quite different from what I proposed.”
“Slightly. Yes.”
Amelia laughed. “At any rate, I cannot thank you enough for saving me.”
“And just pray tell what might I have saved you from?”
Oh dear. “I… well you see… A misunderstanding occurred and—”
“A misunderstanding, you say? Of what sort? Had Lord Griffith accosted you in some fashion? If so, I’d be glad to challenge him to a duel. I’m thin, but wiry. I believe I could win.”
She turned her head away. No good would come of her telling Conrad of her father’s original marriage plans for her.
“If I’m to be credited with the gallantry due a knight in shining armor, surely I am allowed to know why.”
Amelia couldn’t help it. She turned back toward him. Everything in her did not want him to know about Lord Griffith vying for her hand. If Conrad knew, he might not see the necessity of marrying her himself. But then, there was the whole blackmail scheme. Can’t forget that.
Yet… something about him tugged at her heart. When he was near, she was compelled to drink in the sight of him, no matter the circumstances.
Conrad’s ice-blue eyes brought to mind cold winter days spent walking in the snow. Crisp air and dim sunshine. Sparrows twittering in the branches of nearby trees.
And cold winter evenings spent wrapped in his arms in front of the fire.
“Amelia?”
She blinked, sorry to have her daydream vanish like fog clearing at daybreak. “Yes?”
“I asked if you’d like to accompany me to Rotten Row. It’s a lovely day for a walk.”
“Walk?” Snow. Sun. Birds. Warm fire. His arms around me and—
“Yes. Walk. I’m told many people do it on a regular basis.”
“Certainly.” She stood and smoothed the folds of her skirt. Get control of yourself. Otherwise, he might think you daft.
Amelia summoned Annie to fetch her pelisse and to dress warmly herself as they were going out.
The maid mumbled and grumped.
At least I’ll be free of her when Conrad and I wed.
Conrad’s carriage was waiting. Right outside the front door. Amelia shook her head. Why would he allow his driver to do that? She and Annie were assisted into the carriage, followed by Conrad. He sat opposite them in the facing seat.
Amelia stared at Annie. Too bad we require her to chaperone. If she weren’t present, I could slip over and sit next to my betrothed. Very, very closely.
What she required was a companion who was thoughtful and sweet, but would give them a modicum of privacy when needed. They were trying to get to know one another, after all.
The carriage hit a rut in the r
oad and Amelia bounced on her seat. Her shoulder bumped into Annie’s. Her reward was a glare.
Well, I never!
She glared back until Conrad cleared his throat.
What he must think of me.
Determined to ignore Annie, Amelia focused on Conrad. His straight, upright posture. Flawless, spotless suit and cravat. Aquiline nose and long, lean build. He said he was skinny. Perhaps, but Amelia found his appearance quite to her liking.
The carriage stopped at the edge of Rotten Row. Several other carriages were nearby, with drivers waiting for their passengers to return.
As they stepped from the carriage, Amelia stumbled. Conrad grabbed her upper arms. She raised her gaze to his. A stray beam of sunlight sparkled on his light eyes.
“Steady, there. I’ve got you.”
You certainly do. “Thank you.”
She waited for him to release her, but he didn’t. Not right away. His fingers closed tighter about her arms, kneading her gently. A sigh came from her slightly parted lips.
The sound of a boot tapping came from their left. Annie heaved an exaggerated sigh until they parted, but not before Amelia narrowed her eyes at her bothersome maid. Why must she be so annoying?
Conrad offered Amelia his arm and, followed by Annie, took a stroll along Rotten Row. Wisps of conversation floated around them as they passed others out for a walk. Men discussed business or estate matters. Women compared hats and raved about others’ choices of dress color.
A large group went by on horseback. Conrad cringed.
“Do you ride, Lord Lofton?”
His grimace stayed for several seconds as he watched the animals trot away. He looked at her. “Pardon?”
“Ride. Do you ride?”
“Me? Ride? Heavens no.” Was that perspiration forming on his upper lip?
“Why ever not? It’s quite fun and even exhilarating if you have a spirited horse.”
“Mother would never allow it.”
“I see.”
“What do you see?”
“Mother seems to have much influence over you, doesn’t she?”
He shrugged. “Yes, I suppose she does. Perhaps that’s what comes of not being close to your… father.”
The Unwanted Earl (The Love Bird Series) Page 12