The Highwayman's Daughter (24 page)

‘Indeed it is,’ Rupert said and blithely ordered another round of drinks. His mind was in turmoil. Could it be that Jack was the son of the marquess and not Lord Lampton? If it was true, he would have to find a way of confronting his aunt under circumstances where she couldn’t deny it.

The question was how.

He stayed at the club for a while longer, until he could extricate himself without rousing the old man’s suspicion. It wouldn’t do to underestimate Lord Feltham, even in his inebriated state.

As he left the club, asking for his hat and cane, a thought occurred to him.

‘My cousin, Lord Halliford,’ he asked the doorman, ‘is he still here?’

‘No, sir, he left about an hour ago.’

‘For my uncle’s town house at Devonshire Place, I presume,’ Rupert said loftily.

The doorman shook his head. ‘I believe it was his lordship’s intention to return to the family estate at once.’

‘At this hour?’ Rupert hovered by the door uncertainly. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Quite sure, sir.’ As if sensing Rupert’s indecision, he added, ‘How may I be of service? Do you require a conveyance yourself, a hackney coach perhaps?’

A
hackney
coach.

How Rupert hated that word, hated not having his own private carriage. How they must laugh at him behind his back, he thought, as resentment gnawed away at him, but he controlled himself. If his conjectures were right, it wouldn’t be for long, and then who would have the last laugh?

Was it possible Jack had decided to confront the countess with what Rupert had insinuated? If so, Rupert wanted to be there when the scandal broke. His aunt and uncle may have brought him up as their own, but now it was time for him to take his place as their heir.

As he was jostled from side to side in his normally comfortable carriage, it seemed to Jack that Benning found every pothole and stone in the road on purpose.

But the physical discomfort was as nothing compared to the agitation he felt, a curious mix of trepidation and hope. Concern for his parents’ happiness and his own future if what Rupert had suggested turned out to be true, and hope that if it were, there would be nothing preventing him from marrying Cora. What the future would bring for himself and Cora, and for his parents, he dared not think of just yet.

Another pothole nearly flung him onto the floor, and he muttered an oath, though in all fairness to Benning he had commanded the man to spring the horses. The experience brought him to his senses. There was no real need for haste because how could he possibly confront his mother with such accusations? He needed to think of the right way to approach Lady Lampton on the subject, but so far he had come up with nothing. He knocked on the ceiling of the carriage and asked Benning to slow down.

Devil take it, why did love have to be so complicated?

When the carriage pulled up outside his family home, he was still no nearer to a solution. He left Benning to see to the horses and took the servants’ stairs up to the gallery – the way he had brought Cora. It seemed a long time ago. Lighting a candle, he held it up to study his father’s portrait closely. An exquisite painting by a well-known artist, it was a great likeness to the living person.

And none of his father’s striking features were present in his own looks.

A desperate, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that perhaps Rupert had spoken the truth, and he realised that he was hopelessly trapped. He couldn’t marry Cora without shaming his mother, and that he could not contemplate. He had to speak to her.

He left the gallery and climbed the staircase to the bedrooms. It wasn’t too late, and he hoped his mother would still be in her boudoir, where she often retired in the evenings before she went to bed.

His knock was answered by a curt, ‘Enter.’ Not from the countess, but from the earl. His father rarely entered his wife’s domain, preferring instead to spend his evenings in the library, and this unusual occurrence made Jack suspect that they were debating the conversation Jack had had with his mother the day before.

Graceful rosewood furniture and a scattering of Chinese rugs against the backdrop of floral wallpaper made the countess’s private salon as refined and understated as the woman herself. His father was already seated, in a chair more suited to showing off a lady’s elegant bearing and modish dress than offering comfort to a robust gentleman, and he looked about as confined as he must have felt.

‘Mother.’ Jack gave a terse nod; he still hadn’t forgiven her for stealing away his hope of happiness, and had it not been for Rupert’s wild assertions, he would have chosen to stay in London for the foreseeable future, thus putting some distance between himself and his parents.

‘Jack.’ The countess greeted him with a gentle smile, but her eyes were dark from sadness, and Jack’s heart softened a little. The earl’s greeting was more measured, and he appeared out of sorts, which for some absurd reason filled Jack with a sliver of hope.

‘May I speak with you, Mother?’ he said.

The tension in the room was palpable, so much so that the sound of a pin dropping would have been magnified to the roar of cannon fire. Jack’s gaze rested on his mother, who had taken up a place by the marble fireplace, where a fire burned low. He took in her regal bearing and the pallor in her cheeks, and thought it odd that the earl should remain seated while his wife was standing, but he reminded himself that he was in his mother’s rooms now, so perhaps this role reversal was to be expected.

‘Of course,’ said the countess. ‘I thought you would have more questions for me following our earlier conversation. I have spoken to your father, and it—’

‘Mother,’ Jack interrupted, ‘before you go any further there is one question I need to ask of you.’ Jack glanced at his father, who frowned but said nothing. ‘It’s … of a delicate nature.’

The earl spoke for the first time. ‘Fear not, my son. Your mother and I have had a frank discussion; one we should’ve had years ago. There are no secrets between us now.’

Jack hesitated. His father might say they had no secrets between them, but in his own experience people never bared all. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘It was something Rupert suggested.’

‘Rupert?’ Jack’s parents exchanged a look, so brief Jack almost missed it, and the earl got up from the chair and began pacing the room. ‘What can
he
possibly have to say on this matter?’

‘It’s about Mother.’

‘Well, go on, son, spit it out!’

Jack took a steadying breath. ‘He claims that I may not be my father’s son, and as much as I have tried to ignore it, I can see with my own eyes that there is very little likeness between us.’

The countess gasped as the colour left her face completely, and the earl stopped pacing and stared, white-faced, at Jack; then in two strides he was by his wife’s side. ‘Come now, my dear. You mustn’t take any notice of what my nephew says. No doubt he’d had one drink too many.’ He led his wife to the chair he had just vacated, and the countess took a seat without protest. Then he turned to Jack.

‘Where is Rupert now? I wish to speak with him.’

‘He was still at Brooks’s when I left him,’ said Jack.

‘He has some nerve. I know for a fact that your mother has never broken her wedding vows, and that she readily gave up on any attachments she may have formed elsewhere when she became my wife. You favour her in looks because it sometimes happens that a child favours one parent more than the other. That is all.’

‘So there’s no truth in it at all?’ Jack experienced a mixture of emotions; relief that he was the true child of both his parents, something he’d never had any reason to doubt before, coupled with renewed horror that he and Cora had committed a mortal sin by making love. He hadn’t really believed Rupert, yet his cousin’s accusations had kindled a hope in him which had now been extinguished for the second time.

‘No,’ said the countess. ‘And I’m afraid my views about something else have been mistaken all these years too. It grieves me that I shared this mistake with you before making absolutely certain. In the past pride prevented me, but when I observed your distress … a mother cannot escape pain when her only child is faced with such anguish … well, I set my own feelings aside and decided to clear up the matter once and for all.’

‘Which mistake?’ Jack looked from one parent to another, his heart suddenly pounding.

‘There is no question about your parentage,’ said his father. ‘There are, however, some questions about Rupert’s.’

‘
Rupert’s
?’

The earl took his wife’s hand in his. ‘Many years ago my cousin, the captain, fell in love with a young lady of our close acquaintance – Sophia, later Lady Heston. Her father wouldn’t consent to the match as he had already chosen a husband for her, and Cecil, as you know, later married Elizabeth, Rupert and Alethea’s mother.’

Jack nodded.

‘They were both desperately unhappy in their marriage, and Cecil rarely frequented the marriage bed. In her loneliness and despair Elizabeth turned to me in the hope that I – as his cousin and friend – could persuade him to do right by her. Your mother and I were experiencing our own difficulties after little Henry’s death, and Elizabeth had such great need of me … well, I’m afraid I succumbed. I was indeed unfaithful to your mother, but not with Lady Heston.’

The countess looked aggrieved at this, but she didn’t pull her hand away.

‘Later Elizabeth confessed to me that our liaison had resulted in a child. Rupert is
my
son by blood, not the captain’s, and your half-brother. It seemed natural for me to take Rupert under my wing when he was orphaned, and Alethea too, although she is the captain’s own child.’

‘And you had no relations with Lady Heston?’ he asked, shocked by these complicated revelations but elated too that perhaps there may now be a future for him and Cora.

‘None whatsoever. Your mother made an erroneous assumption. My sorrow for Lady Heston came at a time when we were both still grieving over losing Henry, and the manner of her death just added to our strained circumstances. It was a terrible time.’

‘So the woman I mentioned is the captain’s child?’ Jack asked.

‘Yes,’ said the earl. ‘I knew my cousin well, and I always suspected he’d taken up with Sophia later when their paths crossed again. With this woman’s likeness to him it’s clear to me that he must have done so.’

Jack was overwhelmed with relief that Cora was not in fact his sister, but their future together was still far from certain. The inescapable fact was she’d perpetrated a string of crimes, and now that Rupert knew who she was, for Jack to pursue her would only endanger her and her father.

He sighed. ‘There is another matter which is now preying on my mind.’

‘Yes?’ The earl stilled, and a wary look crept into his mother’s eyes.

‘Rupert,’ he said. ‘I suspect he has sometimes wished he was your heir. That is, of course, impossible as long as I live, and if I have heirs of my own. But perhaps if he were to have more agreeable prospects it might curb his spendthrift ways and reckless nature.’

‘What are you suggesting, Jack?’ The earl shook his head. ‘Even if I acknowledged him as my son, he’s illegitimate and could never inherit.’

Jack regarded his father with a mixture of respect and disappointment. For so long he had felt annoyed, and hurt, by the way his father favoured Rupert. Now his father’s actions clearly showed that Jack was in favour, and perhaps always had been. Jack’s affection for his father was tinged with exasperation.

‘I merely meant that perhaps you need to find a different way to help Rupert.’

‘Are you suggesting I’ve acted dishonourably? This is absurd!’ The earl’s voice rose, and, letting go of his wife’s hand, he drew himself up to his full height.

Jack met his father’s challenge without backing down. ‘No, sir, only that you have been too preoccupied with estate matters to give this proper thought, and it has caused great resentment in my cousin.’

His father gave an indignant snort. ‘But you clearly have. Pray, what would you suggest I do to make up for this supposed neglect?’

‘Give him something worthwhile to do: help him go into a profession. Perhaps he could have a small fortune of his own, some land even. He has nothing aside from an allowance, and as his uncle – and his father in truth – you need to provide him with the means to live independently, not just ensure his comforts.’

‘Hmm.’ The earl began pacing the room again, and then stopped by the fireplace and slapped his hand down on the marble mantelpiece so hard the countess jumped. ‘By Jove, you’re right, Jack! I could never acknowledge Rupert as my son, so I spoiled him and ignored his reckless spending. Perhaps I have acted dishonourably – but it seems to me that there is sometimes a very fine line between honour and dishonour. I shall listen to your advice for it seems you know Rupert better than I do.’

‘Thank you, Father. I think you’ll see Rupert’s nature improve greatly.’
I certainly hope so
, he thought, and remembered the way they had parted at Brooks’s. He’d seen a glimpse of how deep a grudge his cousin bore against him, even if it had been well hidden by his attempt at riling him.

The countess had been quiet for a while but now she spoke again. ‘What about the young lady you wish to marry?’ she asked. ‘Miss Mardell I think you said. When we last spoke, I expressed my misgivings about her background, and your father shares those. And now we have received news from Blencowe of a man named Ned Mardell being held by the magistrate for highway robbery. Is he a relation of hers?’

‘Mardell’s her father,’ Jack replied. ‘He’s in prison?’

‘No longer, I’m afraid,’ said the earl. ‘He escaped from the magistrate’s cellar last night. The lad who collected the slop bucket late in the evening swore Mardell was there, asleep on some blankets, when he left, and the constable didn’t think the man would’ve had the strength to leave anyway. The lad’s been questioned, but he’s a disingenuous sort with no connections to Mardell, and there’s no reason to suspect he’s involved.’

A lad,
Jack thought, smelling a rat, but he said nothing.

‘There’s more,’ the earl continued. ‘They found a newly dug grave in the forest about a mile south of town. When they inspected it, they found it to be Mardell’s.
They’ve left him there, next to his wife’s last resting place, God bless his soul.’

Cora
. Her father’s escape had all the hallmarks of her handiwork. Jack would have laughed if he hadn’t known how desperately sad she must be at his death, and he vowed that even if he never saw her again, he would arrange for her father to have a proper headstone. ‘I’m sorry to hear he’s dead,’ he said quietly.

‘Even though her father is gone now, it would cause quite a stir for you to marry her,’ said the earl.

‘I’m aware of that, but it’s irrelevant,’ Jack replied. ‘I fear the lady will no longer have me, so there will be no scandal.’

‘She would refuse the son of earl? How extraordinary.’ His father raised his eyebrows, and despite his incredulity Jack thought he detected an element of relief. In his mother too.

If only that were all there was to it,
he thought. If they knew the rest, they would be even more relieved. Mardell had died with the secret that the highwayman was his daughter, but Jack still knew, and so did Rupert. They couldn’t risk Rupert exposing Cora to the authorities. Maybe one day, when he was no longer so resentful of Jack, they could be together. But until then, they would have to remain apart.

The earl turned to his wife and knelt in front of her. ‘As for scandal and speculations I’m glad we’ve cleared up this matter between us. It’s been too long for either of us to harbour ill feeling. Can you forgive me for all the wrongs I have done you?’

A tear ran down the countess’s cheeks, and, laughing, she reached up and cupped his face between her hands. ‘Oh, Geoffrey, you silly man! I forgave you a long time ago.’