Charlotte’s stomach clenched. “Then tell us now,” she said, turning back to Henry. “Tell us so we can understand. If you don’t, Henry—if you refuse to give me a reason, then I will have no choice but to believe that you simply don’t care about me—about either of us.”
Henry’s shoulders slumped, his entire posture shifting as though the weight of the world had settled upon him. “I will tell you both,” he said hoarsely, refusing to meet their eyes. “But I do not expect you will understand.” He gestured toward the seating area near the fireplace. “Sit down. You must promise me that what I’m about to confess will not leave this room.”
Charlotte glanced at William, whose face was now lined with concern. Then she turned back to Henry and nodded, her throat tightening. “You do not need to ask that,” she assured him as she and William took a seat. “Tell us, please.”
Henry angled himself toward the window so that his profile was half in shadow. He stared out at the grounds as though looking anywhere else would shatter his resolve. Charlotte and William sat across from him, waiting. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until at last, Henry let out a breath and spoke.
“Very well.” He closed his eyes, his voice becoming matter of fact and distant. “I was ten years old when I found out. I overheard my parents arguing. My father—” He paused, shaking his head as though banishing the word. “The duke. He was furious about something I’d done. I can’t remember what. My mother kept telling him to lower his voice, but he didn’t care. He was shouting about how they shouldn’t have expected more from me. How breeding would always win out, and I was no son of his.”
Charlotte sucked in a sharp breath. Beside her, William stiffened.
“What are you saying?” William asked carefully. “What did he mean?”
Henry glanced at them, his expression unreadable. “I am not the true heir to the Arundel title. My mother and father couldn’t conceive, so they… found another way.”
Charlotte’s stomach heaved. “You mean—”
“My mother had an affair,” Henry confirmed. “And then they passed me off as the duke’s son. He knew, of course. From the very beginning. They planned it together. He could not let his name die. They knew no one would ever question them because they were the Duke and Duchess of Arundel.” A bitter smile curled his lips. “But it was a lie.”
Charlotte’s mind reeled. She could scarcely comprehend what he was saying. “You were raised as his son,” she said slowly. “You inherited his title. That makes you the duke. Your father accepted you and took you on as his heir.”
His jaw clenched. “It makes me a fraud. And my father scarcely tolerated me. He never formally adopted me because it was all so secret and because of that, the title should legally belong to my cousin’s husband. Which is what my father wished to prevent. He hated that side of the family and did not want his paternal name and line to die out. In short, I am a criminal.”
William swore under his breath and raked a hand through his hair. “Christ, Henry.”
Charlotte stared at him, at a loss as to what to say.
“I have spent my entire life knowing that my title, my status, everything I am is built on a lie,” Henry continued, his voice tight. “If the truth ever came out, everything my mother and father worked for would be destroyed. Something she reminds me of daily.”
Henry paused then and looked at Charlotte, and there was such naked emotion in his eyes that she almost gasped out loud. “If it were just myself, I would not care, believe me. I am tired of the trappings of high society, and weary of the secrecy. But my mother—”
“She would face ruin,” Charlotte whispered.
“Yes. If anyone ever found out, she would be cast out of society entirely, without a penny to live on, and possibly face prison too. It would destroy her utterly. And I….” He exhaled sharply. “I would lose everything. Which means, so would any wife of mine. I can offer you nothing but a life of living a lie, under the threat of poverty and disgrace. I could not do that to any woman… least of all you, my darling.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears. Even with this horrific news, her heart leaped to hear him call her darling. “But how could anyone possibly find out, if the only people who knew were your parents?”
“That’s what I thought,” Henry murmured. “But someone here—at this very house party—knows.”
William frowned. “The notes.”
Charlotte looked from one man to another, now thoroughly confused. “Notes?”
Henry nodded. “I have been receiving anonymous letters. The first note warned me that my secret wasn’t safe. Then the second one demanded that I meet them, but no one ever showed up. Someone is playing a game with me, and I don’t know what they want. If they make this public knowledge, I will be finished. And my mother….” He shook his head. “She will be disgraced.”
Charlotte’s throat constricted. She had come here expecting an argument of some kind, probably another rejection. She’d suspected he was keeping a secret but she had not foreseen this.
William leaned forward, his expression grim. “And you think that if you were to marry, the risk of this coming out increases?”
Henry made a sound in the affirmative. “Marriage means heirs. If I have a son, and my lineage is ever called into question, it could destroy not just me but him as well. I can’t, in good conscience, subject someone else to this. I can’t subjectCharlotteto this, or any children we may have.”
Charlotte sat very still, her hands curled into the fabric of her gown. Her mind spun as she tried to process the seriousness of what Henry had been carrying all these years. She understood, now, why he’d pushed her away, but all she could feel was deep hurt for the way he had been suffering and outrage that someone would dare to threaten him so callously.
Still… something didn’t sit right.
“Henry,” she said carefully, “what of your true sire? Could he be involved?”
Henry grimaced. “I asked Mother and she assured me that I need not concern myself with him.”
