“Will you speak to your father?”
“I fear I must.” Relations between Richard and his father had improved of late, but this would set them back, I was sure of it. “He’ll hear soon enough, in any case. Gossip moves faster than thought. He’s in the House today, so the chances are high that he’s heard already. I’ll find him after we’ve visited Alicia.”
Alicia Thompson lent her name to the agency that we owned with her and Richard’s manservant, Carier. The whole enterprise had begun as a way for Carier to invest his army pension, but these days it had grown and developed far beyond its modest beginnings.
I took a moment to stare up at the tall, narrow building, set at the junction between two streets in the City of London. The brass plate outside gleamed with prosperity and elbow grease, and the wide black-painted door stood open to the street, with people passing in and out. People seeking work as domestics, respectable and otherwise, prospective employers who wanted to interview servants away from their homes and then us, looking as out of place as swans in a duck pond.
Alicia greeted us in her office, with its old but comfortable furniture and its mismatched but serviceable china. Sometimes I felt it as a relief, because every day I lived surrounded by perfection, the best of everything. I enjoyed imperfection too. I had known old, comfortable clothes and furniture, and sometimes I missed closing the door, making myself a pot of tea instead of ordering one sent up, and propping my feet up on the nearest chair. Richard had no such reserve. If he wanted to prop his feet on the exquisite, brocaded salon chairs, he did so.
Alicia poured us each a dish of tea from a large brown pot. We helped ourselves to sugar and milk, and she sat back to listen to us. As usual, papers and books were scattered over her desk in seemingly random array, but she could put her hands on a specific piece of information in the blink of an eye.
“It’s good to see you looking so well, Rose.” She lifted her dish to her lips. Hers had large tea roses blossoming on it. Mine had forget-me-nots. In public, Alicia gave me the respect due to my station, but in private we had long reverted to more familiar names.
“I’ve settled into the pregnancy,” I told her with a smile. “I found the first month or two uncomfortable, but now all I need is an extra rest in the middle of the day. Which means I’ve had to cut down on my levées.” Receiving people in my chamber in the mornings, or what passed for mornings in London, was not my favourite London pastime. I wasn’t altogether unhappy about giving it up.
Alicia raised a brow at Richard, who obliged. Succinctly, he told Alicia about John’s appearance in London and his visit to Lady Southwood. “I want him gone. And if Timothy has some time, I’d like to discuss the legal ramifications.”
“I called him,” said the perspicacious Alicia. “He’ll be here shortly. I’d have collected his information before you came, but the rumours only began to circulate early this morning. I didn’t know about his visit to your mother, but I did hear about his appearance in the ballroom. Most of London has. He went out of his way to point up the similarities between you, didn’t he?”
Richard’s mouth settled into a grim line. “He made sure of it. It was one of the most prestigious events at the start of the season, and he danced with every eligible maiden present. I believe he imagined I’d compete with him, but no.”
“You don’t need to,” I said, exchanging a glance with Alicia. She nodded, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She knew exactly what I meant. On the town for twelve years or more, Richard merely had to show his presence for people to notice. It was one thing his son never understood, that Richard belonged to polite society, by birth and right. He’d have to seriously transgress for them to disown him. His son would only have to put a foot wrong and the sticklers would turn their backs on him. It could be one of our most effective weapons if it became necessary.
“Thank you for that.” He didn’t smile, however. I hardly expected him to. Strain showed in the depths of his eyes, in the way he kept moving, drumming his fingers when he was sitting, walking around the room when on his feet. Only in private, only with us. His guilt over abandoning his son overwhelmed him at times, but only his closest friends knew that.
The door opened on a knock and Timothy came in. He was the only person who would do that, enter without waiting outside. Timothy and Alicia lived together, but they weren’t married. They didn’t shock many people, as most assumed they were married. They didn’t go out of their way to disabuse anyone, and they didn’t move in high society. After a disastrous first marriage, Alicia refused to consider handing over her private fortune to anyone else, even the man she loved. And she did love him. Her gaze softened as she looked up and saw him. He smiled easily and crossed to her side of the desk before bending to kiss her cheek. He shook hands with Richard and bowed to me, then dragged a chair over to sit next to Alicia.
He glanced at her, brows up. Timothy Dixon worked out of Lincoln’s Inn as a man of law, one of the most well-known of his kind in the country. Richard’s family used him, and his mother declared herself scandalised that Richard occasionally hobnobbed with him socially. Not that her comment gave my husband a moment’s pause.
Richard rejoined me and brought Timothy and Alicia up to date. Alicia frowned and pursed her lips when she heard what John had claimed, but Timothy merely watched him, his pale eyes concentrated in thought. When Richard paused after his admirably succinct, dispassionate account, he sat back. “Well, Timothy? Could he disturb us?”
Timothy leaned back and steepled his fingers. He sighed. “He could. It would prove expensive, but he could. I suspect he’ll try to do it informally at first, carry on his campaign of appearing in public places, making himself agreeable, allowing people to come to their own conclusions. If he claims to be your son in front of witnesses, you can sue him, if you wish. If you don’t, it makes you look weak.”
“I’m already aware of that,” Richard said. “I presume he can acquire a good forged certificate to show that I married his mother.”
“Forgive me,” Timothy said, “but how far does this go? Did you have an affair with his mother? Is he your son? If you want me to act for you in the future, you need not answer.” Just in case he wanted to lie.
“Yes.” Richard reached for my hand and I gave it willingly. He gripped it like a lifeline, although the rest of his body suggested complete relaxation. I gripped back and I doubted I appeared serene too. “I had an affair with her when I was fourteen and she was at least three years older than me. I didn’t know about the pregnancy because my mother sent her away. She had twins. Susan is one, John is the other. John made himself known to us last year.”
“Have you ever acknowledged him publicly?”
“No.”
Timothy nodded. “Did you make Lucy Forder any binding promises? Especially in front of others?”
A telling pause followed. I wanted to believe that Richard found it difficult to remember. Eventually he gave a firm “No.”
“Did you go through any form of marriage with her, however outlandish you might have thought it at the time?”
This time a swift “No.” He pressed the fingers of his free hand to the bridge of his nose. “I did say I’d marry her, once, but we were alone. I’m positive that nobody heard us.” And I guessed where. A pavilion in the grounds of Eyton, one where an occupant could detect any approach well in time. One where I’d spent some romantic time with Richard. I wouldn’t be doing that again. Not in that place.
“That shouldn’t count, legally. I can’t advise you officially, but it’s best to let your memory of past events grow vague if anyone asks you about that incident.”
I appreciated Timothy’s advice, and so did Richard. “She might have told my mother, because shortly after that Lucy disappeared. My mother had caused her to move to France.”
“And found a husband for her,” I put in. “A husband who acknowledged the children as his own. He’s dead now, but surely someone will remember them.”
Richard shocked me by planting a kiss on my mouth, a noisy, playful buss. “You wonderful woman! I’ll send someone across to get statements that the man said the children belonged to him. Have I told you recently that I love you?”
I adored his newfound confidence, his ability to discuss our love in front of trusted friends. He rarely went this far, however. “Yes, but never stop,” I answered, and I felt a hot blush suffuse my cheeks despite my brave words. Or maybe because of them, as he was looking at me in the way he did when he wanted to strip me naked. Warm, intimate and passionate, something his society friends wouldn’t have believed of him. But I did.
Timothy cleared his throat in a particularly lawyer-like fashion. “Yes, good, that should help. But John Kneller will be ready. He’ll have a document and paid witnesses.”
Richard leaned back in his chair. “Could such a document ever be considered legal, considering I was only fourteen at the time?” Richard wondered.
Timothy’s lips pursed further, as if he’d sucked on a lemon. “Unfortunately, yes. At worst, it’s a contract of marriage. But it could also be considered a precontract.”
Richard pulled in a sharp breath. “Thus invalidating any subsequent marriage.”
A chill spread from my toes to the tips of my fingers, via my spine. “That would make Helen illegitimate.” I couldn’t say the word
bastard
. Not in regard to my beautiful daughter. “And the baby in my womb.”
Richard reached for my hand again, but this time I needed comfort. His grip was firm, warm and I wanted him to hold me, but he wouldn’t do that here. He hadn’t progressed that far. “It won’t come to that. I swear.”
He couldn’t promise me that. I shouldn’t let him, but I felt too weak with a new revelation that had hit me with the power of truth. I would kill John myself before I’d allow him to hurt my children. For myself, I’d survive, but not them. And I was sure that Richard felt the same, except he’d probably add me to his burden of responsibility.
“You could fight it,” Timothy said, “and you would probably win, but it could be a Pyrrhic victory. A case like that in open court would make you all notorious. You have more to lose than he does. Except in monetary terms.”
Richard nodded. “I agree. It’s the last resort. The gossip would spread, and we’d be the target of public cynosure. The public, en masse, doesn’t much care who tells the truth. They would choose John’s side, the poor, abandoned waif.”
I snorted. “The evil, conniving one. How can anyone see him as that?”
Richard smiled as if I’d made a joke. “He’s a very convincing liar, my love. He knows how to manipulate.”
“So do you.”
“I won’t stoop to that. In the long run, it wouldn’t prove good for me or for the family.” Only now, when he had a family of his own, did Richard consider the Kerres worth saving, worth defending. A pang of sadness suffused me, but I shook it off. No time for that now. This was a strategy meeting. Emotions could come later, I told myself stoutly.
“His prominence in society is his defence,” I said. “He knows what you’re capable of, Richard.”
Richard gave a harsh laugh. “I know that. Otherwise I’d have dealt with him on his arrival.” He glanced at me and I knew he was holding something back. The ultimate solution, something he’d done before. I hoped his innate sense of natural justice would keep him from taking that path. He didn’t have the same respect for the authorities as I did, but he was a member of the part of society that made the laws. My kind upheld it. The arrogance I often witnessed stemmed from that. The King was merely a figurehead, he rarely cared about British affairs and he was growing older and frailer. His son would be different, the first Hanoverian born and bred in England. Interesting times lay ahead.
Even more interesting ones were happening now.
“I will fight him legally, to begin with,” Richard said smoothly. “I have more of society with me, and I will be meticulously polite to the boy in public, however without acknowledging anything. I will smile and nod when people comment on the remarkable resemblance, and say nothing that could lead them to assume he belonged to my family. I don’t know yet if he’s serious in his claim, or if he’ll be happy if I pay him off. However I will not give him a pension as I have his sister Susan. He doesn’t need it, and he doesn’t deserve it.”
“Susan!” I had forgotten. “John will be sure to contact her.”
“I have thought of it, and Carier is informing her of the situation as we speak. She will make her own decision.”
“As she always has.” Susan had decided to enter the demimonde, but her protector for the last year was a man from the country, and he was keeping her exclusive. I liked him, but thought him too old for her. However Susan’s admittedly normally chilly heart held warmth lacking in her brother, and she seemed fond of her protector. I wouldn’t like her brother to disturb that. But he would approach her, and he knew where she was.
“I will support the decision she chooses to make.” I knew he would. So would I. Now Richard appeared all business, his emotion entirely covered by the efficient mask he used with friends, not as complete as the one he used in public, but still there. “I hope I can trust you, Timothy, to act for me should it become necessary.”
“Of course.” No hesitation. Loyalty, or Timothy Dixon’s sense of justice? I didn’t know, but it meant a lot to me that honourable people supported my husband. He needed us. We needed him.