"Of course you are," Lord Fairfax said indignantly, "You are my real daughter, I love you more than you will ever understand. It matters not that we share no blood—you came into our lives and made this family complete, Emily."
Ava felt tears prick her eyes at Lord Fairfax's vehement declaration of love; it was obvious that he was sincere, for he gave the appearance of being greatly anxious and agitated at Emily's assumption.
"And what of Ava?" Emily asked simply, "Did you know that I was a twin?"
"Of course not," Lord Fairfax was horrified by the suggestion, "Had I know, I would have instructed the midwife to take you both. It pains me to think that you have lived so long apart—but I am glad that you have found each other, and that this family has acquired a new member."
"Really?" Ava's heart soared at the marquess' words; could it be, that he would readily accept her, just like that?
"Of course, my dear," Lord Fairfax beamed at her, "You are as much a part of this family, as anyone else."
"I had wanted to find," Ava confessed, "Who my real parents were, but I think that this is far, far better. Thank you, Lord Fairfax."
"Papa," Lord Fairfax corrected her with a grin, "I'll not have my daughter stand on ceremony. Now, my dears, come here."
Lord Fairfax held out his arms to Ava and Emily, who both embraced him at the same time. This was what it was like, Ava thought with wonder, to be part of a family. The family hug did not last long, for a knock on the library door forced the trio apart.
"A Mr McCasey," Graves said soberly, "For Lady Emily."
It was to the butler's credit, Ava thought, that as he noted not one, but two, Lady Emily's staring back at him, only a small flicker of surprise crossed his face, before he assumed his usual impassive expression.
"Send him in," Lord Fairfax called cheerfully.
"Should I leave?" Ava questioned; surely Mr McCasey would spread the word about her if he was to meet her.
"Why should you?" Lord Fairfax gave a shrug, "I have two daughters now, there's nothing to hide."
Ava tried to hide her own astonishment at Lord Fairfax's ease; he seemed unconcerned about the scandal that would erupt, once the ton heard about the marquess's second, illegitimate daughter. It was both terribly sweet and a little reckless, she thought, as she waited for McCasey to enter.
The actor followed Graves into the library, accompanied by his wife. There was something so familiar about her regal face, Ava thought, as she noted Mrs McCasey's high cheekbones and fine bone structure.
"Forgive me," McCasey said with a small bow to Ava, "But I had to come. I was with Lady Emily when she had her accident, and I heard that man shout at her. I had to know—"
The actor broke off as he noticed Emily, standing a little behind her sister.
"There are two of you," he stated, looking to his wife for confirmation of what was before him.
"Yes," Ava offered, her heart thumping nervously in her chest. What was McCasey about? Obviously he had heard Boris call her Ava, but what did that mean to him?
"I knew it."
The actor, seemingly unable to stand, stumbled across to the leather sofa, and collapsed onto it.
"You knew what?" Ava asked urgently, "That Emily and I are your...daughters?"
"Daughters?" McCasey sat up straight in his seat, "No, my dear, you are my nieces. Let me explain..."
The story fell out of McCasey's mouth in a rush; his younger sister had fallen under the spell of an aristocrat, some twenty years ago. She had not listened to McCasey's warnings, and soon had found herself with child. On the night of the twins' birth, Ava McCasey had tragically died, and the maid who had attended to her had taken her body back to the aristocrat, who had had Ava buried and shown no interest in taking his offspring from the Lambeth Asylum.
"I only learned of this a few weeks after Ava's death," McCasey said bitterly, "The maid sought me out and told me that my sister had borne twins, but when I went to the Asylum to claim you as family, I was told there were no twins there."
"Because there weren't," Ava breathed, "Emily was already gone, adopted out by the marquess, but I was still there."
"When I heard that man scream out the name Ava," McCasey said, "I knew that you had to be her daughter—the resemblance is uncanny."
Ava remained quiet as she digested this; in one afternoon, she had gone from having no family, to having two. It was all rather overwhelming for a girl who had, for years, thought herself alone in the world.
"I thought that we might be related," she confessed to McCasey with a smile, "Though I got rather mixed up trying to unravel the mystery of who my mother was—I thought you and the missing Lady Anna Darlington had been romantically involved. How wrong I was."
"Not quite," Mrs McCasey interjected, with a wry smile to her husband, "I am the missing Lady Anna Darlington—though these days, I go by Annalise."
Well, Ava thought with surprise, this was a turn up for the books.
"So that is why Lady Darlington argued with you that day in the park?" she asked, feeling a small tickle of pride that her intuition had been somewhat closer to the mark than she had thought.
"Yes," Lady Anna gave a sad smile, "I ran away from home some twenty years ago, to pursue my passion for the theatre. My mother was horrified and told the ton that I had simply vanished—she would rather they believe me dead, than an actress. She bribed my lady's maid, who had found my letter explaining where I was, in order to keep her silent, and to this day, no one knows what happened to me."
"Your secret is safe with us," Ava said seriously as Lady Anna finished, glancing at her sister and Lord Fairfax, who both nodded their agreement.
The clock on the mantelpiece above the fireplace chimed the hour, shattering the strange, yet comfortable, atmosphere in the room.
"Lud," McCasey said as he glanced at it, "I have a performance at nine. Perhaps I will cry off?"
"No," Ava shook her head, for though she was delighted to have discovered McCasey, her head still ached and she was bone tired; "Don't. The show must go on, and we have the rest of our lives to catch up."
McCasey nodded, and he and Lady Anna left in a flurry of hugs, tears, and promises to call for tea. Once they were gone, Ava allowed herself to collapse onto the settee in exhaustion.
"To bed, young lady," Lord Fairfax said firmly, as he caught sight of her tired face.
Unable to muster the energy to argue, Ava allowed Emily to lead her upstairs to her—their?—bedchamber. They found Mary waiting in the dressing room, but despite her obvious wish to discuss what had happened, she instead remained silent as she helped them both into fresh night-gowns.
"Tomorrow we shall pick out a room for you," Emily said, as she crawled into bed beside Ava, "But for now, you'll have to make do with sharing a bed with me."
The two girls, despite their exhaustion, managed to stay awake for a few minutes, discussing their time apart.
"How was Hemsworth?" Ava asked curiously, wondering how her sister had found life with a different duke.
"He was..." Emily paused, a faint blush staining her cheeks, "A man of his word."
"Oh?" Ava raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Unfortunately, that word is 'unreliable'," Emily deadpanned, before giving a large yawn, "Now off to sleep sister dearest—I dare say we will have quite a few callers tomorrow."
Ava watched as her twin sister closed her eyes and promptly fell asleep. Sleep did not come as easy to her, however, and she lay on her back, staring at the velvet hangings above her head.
You should be happy, a voice chided her, not one family, but two, in the space of a day. Ava knew she was being a tad ungrateful, but despite all her blessings, there was one person who still occupied her thoughts; the Duke of Kilbride.
The image of the hurt in his eyes, was the last thing she saw before she fell asleep—and the memory of the hurt in her heart as he had echoed her—"a nobody"—was the last thing she felt, before sleep overtook her.
Fairyta
le endings were all well and good, but they only happen in books, she thought sadly, as she drifted into slumber.
Chapter Fifteen
The following morning, Raff made his way to the Houses of Parliament, to plead his case for the climbing boys. The poor lads had quite left his thoughts due to yesterday's drama, though this morning, he focused only on them. If truth be told, they were a rather welcome distraction from the tumult of his thoughts.
His case was rather simple, merely requiring the House of Lords to pass a motion to set up an investigative committee, though because so many of the House's members relied upon child labour for their own gain, Raff was nervous it would not pass.
"Kilbride—hold up."
The deep voice which had called out his name in the corridor outside the Chambers of the House, belonged to none other than the Duke of Bellmont. The duke cut a dashing figure in a dark green wool coat, worn above impeccable white breeches; though as he neared, Raff saw the faintest hint of stubble upon Bellmont's chin, and that his eyes were red from lack of sleep.
The Duke of Bellmont was a notorious hellion, and Raff assumed that he had been out carousing the night before. Why he had bothered to show up for a sitting of the House was beyond Raff; most members of the House rarely bothered to take up their seats, never mind show up after a long night's drinking.
"Bellmont," Raff gave the man a polite nod of greeting.
"I heard you're petitioning today," Bellmont said, as he fell into step with Raff, "For the investigative committee into child labour."
"I am," Raff admitted, slightly perplexed by Bellmont's interest. The man had snubbed Douglas McCasey when he had tried to engage the duke in Crockford's, why the sudden involvement now?
"Good," Belmont looked rather sober, "I've been speaking with a few people in White's and Boodle's—it should pass."
"You've been speaking with people?" Raff asked, unable to hide his incredulity. The Duke of Belmont was not known for his bleeding heart—quite the opposite actually. He had a reputation for being cold and calculating, both at the gaming table and away from it. One would be hard pressed, Raff thought, to find a man who admitted to being Bellmont's friend.
"Yes," the duke looked rather uncomfortable, "Though don't go blabbing your mouth off about it. I have a reputation to uphold; I couldn't bear if word got out that I—"
Bellmont hesitated, then swiftly changed the subject; "Enough about this Kilbride, I shall see you inside."
A smile played on his lips as Raff watched as Bellmont stalked off ahead of him. He knew what the duke had wanted to say; Bellmont couldn't stand the idea of anyone thinking him softer hearted than the severe reputation he had so carefully cultivated portrayed him to be.
Was everyone hiding something?
This thought occupied Raff's mind as he sat and listened to the order of business for the day. A few bills were passed easily and then it was Raff's turn to stand.
"Thank you, Mr Speaker," he said as he stood to address the room, "I seek the approval of the House to set up an investigative committee into the practice of child labour and indentured servitude of our nation's orphans—in particular the climbing boys of this fair city."
Raff went on to outline the cruel practises that the boys endured, sparing no detail of their suffering. He was glad to see a few members of the House squirm uncomfortably at his words, and when he finished speaking, a loud applause erupted from the public gallery.
"What say the House?" the Speaker called, once Raff had finished. He held his breath as he waited, only releasing it when a chorus of "Ayes" filled the room.
"The Ayes have it," the Speaker duly intoned, before moving onto the next matter of business.
Raff sat back into his seat in shock; they had won. He thought on what Emily—or rather, Ava—had said; that with the power of his title came a power to change people's lives for the better. She had been right, he observed, and for the first time his ducal title did not feel a burden, but a privilege.
Once the session had ended, Raff left the chambers with a lightness to his step. He had not felt this cheerful since...he paused, since he had kissed Ava Smith.
Drat her, he thought, pushing any memories of the girl aside and continuing on his way. As he descended the steps into the entrance hall of Westminster, a voice called out to him.
"Your Grace!"
It was Douglas McCasey and his lovely wife Annalise, who—judging from their smiles—had been watching from the public galleries.
"Congratulations," McCasey said, stepping forward to shake Raff's hand.
"It is you who I should congratulate," Raff responded with a smile, "For you, both of you, did all the hard work. I just stood up and made a speech."
"But what a lovely speech it was, Your Grace," Annalise said with a throaty laugh, "And now hundreds, if not thousands, of children might find their lives changed for the better because of it."
"Pishaw," Raff replied, slightly red in the face from her effusive compliments. Hardly a ducal reaction, he thought with a wry smile.
"There will be more plans to make," Raff continued, in what he hoped was a more refined manner, "Once the committee is set up."
"And funds to raise for the children," Annalise added, "Though I have been promised help on that score by Lady Emily."
"Really?"
Never, Raff thought, had a man sounded less nonchalant than he at that very moment; his voice was so high, that he could have been playing the female lead in one of McCasey's plays, and his face burned with embarrassment as he tried to feign a casual interest.
"Yes," Annalise nodded, "I spoke with her and her sister, just this morning. They are most eager to do what they can to help."
"Her sister?"
This time Raff did not try to hide his interest; his eyes narrowed as he waited impatiently for Annalise to reply. How did she know about Lady Emily's secret twin sister—and more importantly, what had Ava Smith said to her.
"Yes," Annalise looked taken aback by his ferocious stare, "They told me that you knew about them."
"Oh-ho," Raff gave an angry nod, "Indeed I do. They both played me for a fool. I'm sure they had a great lark explaining how they pulled the wool over my eyes."
"No," Annalise looked shocked by his reaction, "They—"
"Excuse me," Raff interrupted coldly, "I must be on my way."
He spun on his heel and stalked away, anger and disappointment clouding any sense of propriety or good manners. He had not taken more than a dozen steps, when he felt someone tug on his elbow.
"Your Grace," Annalise said in a low voice, conscious of the people passing by, "In all my life I have never seen anyone more despondent than Ava this morning. The poor girl has finally found a family, but she cannot enjoy it because all she can think of is the hurt that she caused you."
A petulant part of Raff wanted to fold his arms, stick out his tongue, and shout "Good" at Annalise, but another part filled with anguish at the thought of Ava upset.
"She lied to me," he said, hoping that would end the conversation—but Annalise was not to be deterred.
"Did she try," she probed, "To trap you into marriage? Did she try to secure a position as a duchess under false pretences?"
"No," Raff admitted; in fact, Ava had done the opposite by repeatedly telling him that she could not marry him, "But that is not the point."
"So," Annalise gave a sigh, "Apart from her name, she acted nobly toward you."
Raff recalled the night in the garden, when she had held him close and soothed him during his attack. The tenderness she had shown him, and the sadness in her voice when she had told him that she could not be his bride, stabbed at his heart.
She had been trying to tell him, he realised with shock, all that time, she had been trying to let him know just who she was.
"I know what Ava and Emily did was dishonest," Annalise continued, "But haven't you ever wanted to be someone else for a day? Ava grew up in an orphanage, unloved and alone, living life at the bottom
of the social ladder, whilst you were on its top rung. Imagine how frightened that poor girl must have been, when she found herself falling in love with a duke—a man who would never take her as his bride."
"In love?"
Raff felt as though Annalise had punched him in the gullet; how did she know that Ava had fallen in love with him? Had she told her?
"It's plain to see, to anyone who cared to look," Annalise said softly, "Though, now that you know who she really is, do you even care that she loves you?"
On that ambiguous note, Annalise took her leave, leaving Raff standing, pondering her words. He thought on all that he had said to Ava during their time together, and the one moment which stood out in his mind, was his stupid declaration that he wanted her for her lineage.
No wonder the poor girl had not felt comfortable in confessing who she really was, Raff thought, he had as good as told her that she was not worthy of him.
He knew what it was like to feel unworthy—Lud, he had spent the last year of his life feeling he was not good enough to hold his title. The idea that he had inspired the same feelings in Ava, left him feeling wracked with guilt.
But, what could he do? As a duke, he could not marry an orphan with no family to speak of—could he?
Chapter Sixteen
The three days since Kilbride had walked out the door, had felt like the longest three days of Ava's life. True, she was busy with callers, curious to see the now famous, long lost twins, but every time that Graves had stepped into the drawing room, to announce a caller, Ava's heart had leapt with hope.
And every time, she had been disappointed.
What do you expect, she chastised herself, the man laid his soul bare before you and you made a mockery of it.
The guilt that wracked her at this thought, left Ava unable to sleep, and soon she was so pale and tired, that the servants stopped mixing her and Emily up.
"You'll have to eat something," Emily said with concern over breakfast, "You're wasting away before our very eyes."
"Hear, hear," Lord Fairfax called loudly, from behind his paper, "Have a sausage, dear. As a matter of fact, have the whole pig."
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