The Heiresses (35 page)

The pair had slept together quite the number of times now, with Ro sneaking around, carefully covering up her every movement with lies about reuniting with girls from boarding school, while Hestia and Clio called upon Thalia out in Richmond. Her need for Vincent was so great she had only visited Thalia in the nursing home twice. Somehow, on that second visit, Thalia had guessed what she was up to and had caught her off guard, away from the others. “He won’t marry you, you know,” she had said, in that oh-so-congenial tone she liked to use as she imparted yet another dose of her bitter words. “He’s hoping for a better offer, or he would have asked already.”

This truth had, of course, cut Ro to the very bone. “And how would you know?” Ro had snapped in return. “Your judgment could hardly be considered terribly good right now, could it?”

From then on, Ro had pushed the awful Genevieve from her thoughts and become increasingly more daring and reckless. She snuck Vincent into her room at night, there were trysts in his office, and, once, they had even used Thalia’s car. Ro knew, but refused to admit, that she was scared. Scared that Genevieve would win the man that she loved, scared that with her reckless behavior she would become pregnant, but, most of all, scared that Vincent would tire of her. Today was particularly one of those days—Vincent had been quite clear that he was busy, but had not exactly been forthcoming as to his movements. Days like these—ones where he might possibly be with Genevieve—were the worst. She felt sick to her stomach and directionless. This was why she had agreed to lunch with Hestia—for the sheer distraction. Over lunch, she would be forced to make conversation and to disengage her thoughts from Vincent. Vincent, Vincent, Vincent.

“Here we are.” Hestia pointed out the Connaught’s looming Victorian form up ahead, awakening Ro from her thoughts and forcing her to pay attention to her surroundings.

It was then that Ro first noticed him and immediately jolted to attention, her entire body shivering slightly, despite the warm temperature. In front of them, a gentleman approached, deep in conversation with two other men. He was incredibly handsome. Too old for her, of course, but there was no denying his looks. She could not take her eyes from him as he passed by and was amazed to see him doff his hat at Hestia, then add a bold wink when he thought no one else was looking.

This took only seconds. But for Ro, it felt like minutes, her brain suddenly whirring into action. When he had passed by, she stood stock-still in the middle of the pavement, quite unable to fully grasp what she had just realized on first spying him—what she was still considering might be possible.

“Ro!” Hestia stopped alongside her. “Are you all right? You don’t look at all well.”

“Who was that?” Ro finally managed to focus on her aunt. “That man? The one who just winked at you?”

Hestia laughed. “No need to be alarmed, my dear. He’s an old friend. His name is Felix Ashbrooke and he is the Duke of Hastings now. I’ve known him since I was a girl. I had told him my nieces were staying with me and I did so want to introduce you to him at our soiree, but he had a prior engagement, I’m afraid. I’m sure now that he’s spotted us, we’ll have a dinner invitation shortly. You must meet his daughter. She is the sweetest little thing.”

“But…” Ro could not find the words she needed to say. Could not form the sentences.

“Oh, look, here he comes now.”

Ro forced herself to turn and saw the man in question running back to them. “My beautiful Hestia,” he said as he reached for one of her hands and kissed it. “It has been too long. I have been meaning to send a dinner invitation for an age now.”

“That’s just what I was telling my niece,” Hestia said, before formally introducing the pair.

“She used to call me Fifi when we were growing up, you know.” The duke’s eyes flickered to Ro for only a moment.

“Well, I couldn’t say Felix! If you’re not careful, I’ll start calling you Fifi once more!” Hestia laughed.

Felix’s attention turned fully to Ro now, finally considering her presence properly, if somewhat reluctantly. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Ro fancied that he flinched slightly when he took her in her entirety. “But just look at you, Miss Halesworth,” he said, after a longer pause than necessary. “You are the very image of your mother. Just beautiful. She was … enchanting.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Ro replied.

“We all miss her very much. And what a delight that you are with us after all this time.” He made a sudden gesture with one hand, as if to stop himself. “But excuse me, I must go. Hestia, I will have that dinner invitation to you shortly.”

And, with this, the duke was gone.

“Well, that was rather odd,” Hestia said, frowning slightly. “He seemed very out of sorts today. Did that seem odd to you?” Hestia watched her friend Felix walk quickly away before turning back to Ro.

“You don’t know, do you?” Ro’s eyes moved to meet her aunt’s. How amazing, for him to turn up like this. For everything to come together when she least expected it.

“Know what?” Hestia glanced from Ro to Felix’s retreating back.

“Hestia, that man is Clio’s father.”

*   *   *

Hestia had been so overcome that Ro had to guide her by one elbow to Mount Street Gardens, directly across the road, and sit her down upon a bench seat.

“I knew it as soon as I laid eyes on him,” Ro told her, as Hestia sat in stunned silence. “I thought to myself that he looked awfully like Clio. And then I remembered that photograph of your cousin, because he rather resembled him, too. That’s when I put two and two together. Do you think that I might be right? I’m sure I am. Sure of it.” Ro turned her head to look at her aunt and realized she was crying, silent tears running down her cheeks.

Hestia brought her hands up to her face. “Oh, what a spectacle I must be making and what a fool I am that I never saw it. Never once thought of it. But it all makes so much sense now.” She lowered her hands to meet Ro’s eyes. “Ro, he is such a good, kind man. So very much like Clio. He is very influential now. Very political. He is always pushing for better public housing. For more money to be spent on education for the poor. I see him several times a week. How could I not have known this?”

Ro bit her lip for a moment. “You said that you were childhood friends…”

“Yes,” Hestia said, nodding. “But then our families fell out. Our fathers, actually. It was an awful disgrace. A feud. Felix and I joke about it now that our parents have all gone.”

“But what happened?”

Hestia shook her head. “You would not believe it, but they fell out over a pair of dueling pistols. They both collected them, you see, and there was supposed to be some agreement about who was to buy this particular pair at auction and then the other reneged at the last moment and purchased the pistols for himself. It was so very stupid. They behaved like children. And continued to, as well, until both of their deaths. But, yes, before that, our families were very close.” She took a deep breath now. “So that explains why our parents would not sanction this relationship that Demeter had. It was Felix she was seeing. My father would not have her marry into his enemy’s family.”

“And so they had an affair. For … well, we don’t know how many years,” Ro continued with the theory.

“Felix was sent away for some time—traveling abroad. Perhaps it was arranged by both families? He only returned after Demeter married William.”

“But he must have been such a prize.” Ro didn’t quite understand. “I mean, he’s a duke now. Surely—”

“Ah,” Hestia cut in. “My father might have been able to overlook the dueling-pistol affair if he had known Felix would one day become a duke. But the thing is, three men died in battle before the title came to Felix—two of his cousins and his elder brother. He never expected to become the Duke of Hastings. Felix was lucky. He lost part of his right foot, but not his life.”

Ro’s eyes widened. “It’s just like Romeo and Juliet—the Capulets and the Montagues.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure the Capulets and the Montagues weren’t quarreling over something as ridiculous as dueling pistols.” Hestia let out a short laugh, as if she suddenly realized something.

“What is it?” Ro asked.

“Well, now I understand why Felix is always trying to press those dueling pistols upon me. I have absolutely no interest in seeing or hearing about them, ever again, but almost every time I see him he insists on giving them to me. He feels guilty about it all. Oh…” Her expression changed suddenly. “This does change everything, doesn’t it? I do believe you are quite correct the more I think about it all, but it’s difficult to take it in all at once. Felix was devastated when Demeter died. Utterly inconsolable. And now I know why. I knew Demeter loved him dearly, as he did her, but not … like this. In this way. How stupid of my father. They would have been lovely together. So lovely.”

“But you said he has a daughter and, I take it, a wife. Won’t this be very … awkward? Obviously, both he and Clio must know if we are right.”

“Oh, no. It’s not what you think.” Hestia shook her head quickly. “Felix married some years after Demeter’s death. His daughter is quite young. Around ten years of age.”

Ro breathed a sigh of relief. “Still, he is married now…”

“Yes,” Hestia said as she nodded. “Which means we will have to be extremely discreet. I will telephone him this evening and test your theory.”

*   *   *

Hestia had warned Ro that it would be best not to speak to Clio regarding Felix until she had spoken to him herself. Later that evening, she had a quiet word with Ro in the drawing room, after she had telephoned her old friend.

“I told Felix that I had something very important that I needed to speak to him about,” she started, “but I then found, for some reason, that I couldn’t continue. I think it is your story to tell him, Ro. I told him only that it concerned Demeter and that you needed to meet with him immediately. If it is true, he will tell you. I have arranged for you to meet him tomorrow morning, at ten o’clock.” Hestia passed Ro his address, written on a piece of paper. “Do be gentle, however. If it is as we suspect, this will all come as a great shock to him. Not only because he and Demeter obviously loved each other very much, but also because he is the sort of man who would be devastated to know he had a child he knew nothing about.”

*   *   *

At just after ten o’clock the following morning, Ro sipped her tea nervously in the duke’s study, then returned her cup to her saucer with a clatter, due to her shaking hands. She placed the cup and saucer on a small side table, afraid she might drop them.

“It must be something very grave that you have to tell me,” the duke said, his voice light, but with an undeniable twinge of anxiety to it. “Hestia said it concerns your mother … Demeter,” he struggled slightly with her name. “I must admit it feels very strange to be talking about her and using her name once more. It all seems very long ago, that time I spent with Demeter and Hestia. A lifetime ago.”

Ro cleared her throat. “Your Grace, before I tell you, I’m afraid I must ask for some information from you. I’m embarrassed to ask it … but I must know. It is of vital importance.”

In the opposite armchair, the duke regarded her with studied composure. “Yes?”

Ro took a deep breath before continuing. “Did you have a relationship with my mother where you were … more than friends?”

The duke inspected Ro for a moment or two, before answering. “Yes,” he finally told her. “Yes, I did. This is, of course, a private conversation…”

“Yes.” Ro nodded quickly. “Of course.”

He nodded slightly, acknowledging this. “I am not ashamed to admit it. I loved your mother very much. And she loved me. But our families found out we were seeing each other in secret and, to stop us, they arranged for me to be sent abroad for some time. We found out about their plans and managed to run away together. It was almost a week before they located us. Thankfully, we managed to avoid a scandal,” he said with a long sigh. “We were very silly. Young and in love and foolish. Not much more than children, really.”

“Hestia told me about the family feud.”

The duke shook his head, emitting a short laugh. “Yes, ridiculous, isn’t it? I see now that we could have approached our families differently and made them see sense. But, at the time, I was very angry. I do wish I could go back and change things”—he straightened in his seat—“not that I am unhappy with how things have worked out, of course. I love my wife and daughter very much.”

“Of course,” Ro seconded. “After you were sent abroad, can I ask what happened to my mother?”

The duke exhaled. “Our parents thwarted contact between us at every turn. And I found out later that Demeter was fed lies about me in the hope that she might believe I would never return—that I had married while abroad and so on. Eventually she must have begun to believe what she was being told, because she fell into a deep depression. I think that awful family doctor of theirs started medicating her to the point where she became quite unstable. When William came sniffing around after her fortune, her parents most likely thought it could be the only offer she might ever get, especially if anyone ever found out the truth—that she had run away for a week with a man. Thus, her parents accepted William’s proposal for her and married her off like a lamb to the slaughter. She consented because she didn’t care what became of her anymore, or was under the influence of too much sedative to care.”

“But then, eventually, you came back,” Ro said, urging the duke to go on with his tale. This was the important part—that he admit to still seeing Demeter as a married woman at the time she and her sisters were conceived.

The duke nodded. “Yes. After Demeter was married, both families let the matter go somewhat. I returned a year or so after Demeter’s marriage.”

In the silence that followed, the pair stared at each other, trying to assess just what the other knew, or was willing to divulge. Finally, Ro continued on, bravely, “I am sorry, but it is of vital importance to what I have to say—you continued to see each other on your return?” She held her breath after the question exited her mouth, hardly believing she had asked it. And of a duke, no less.