Kit cracked a laugh. “M’father swears he’s the only man he knows who got gray hair from his mother instead of his children.” He grew suddenly tired of Piggott’s fussing. “Finish up. I must be on my way. I don’t wish to be late for my engagement. After I see my grandmother, I’ll be at Dunwood House, then I have two balls to attend this evening. One is Lady Bellamny’s.”
“Everything shall be ready, sir.” Piggott handed Kit his gloves, hat and cane.
Kit opened the door into the corridor to find one of his father’s younger footmen getting ready to knock.
“If you please, sir, his lordship requests you attend him immediately.”
How odd. He’d seen his father just the other day. Kit frowned. “Has anything happened to one of my brothers or sisters?”
The lad shook his head. “Don’t think so. I was told only to come and get you.”
“Yes, sir.” The footman dashed down the stairs and out the front door. “I wonder what could be the matter.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Piggott, send a message round to Lord Evesham telling him I’ll be a bit late.”
A quarter hour later, Kit entered his father’s study. A decanter of brandy and a half-full glass sat before Papa on the desk. Kit had never known his father to drink this early in the day. At least not brandy. Something must be terribly amiss. “What’s wrong?”
Papa ran a hand down his face. “You might want to sit, my boy.”
If this had something to do with him, Kit thought he would rather not. “I believe I’ll stand.”
His father took a sip, then leaned back in his large, dark leather chair. The exact same position Papa had taken the few times Kit had ever been in trouble. His father cleared his throat. “I realize you have been reluctant to marry. One might say you’ve been avoiding choosing a bride. Is there a particular reason you have been so hesitant?”
Other than not having seen Lady Mary, the only woman with whom he could consider living the rest of his life, for a long time, no reason at all. It occurred to Kit that he’d never realized how important his marrying was to his father. Perhaps he should have been more assiduous about finding a mate. He would do so this Season.
He shrugged lightly. “Why?”
After taking another sip of the brandy, his father stared at him. “I want you to tell the truth. I do understand youthful indiscretions. We went through more than a few with Crispin. Too many of them, to be honest. You have not caused anywhere near the worry he did. In fact, your behavior has been exemplary, and I promise neither your mother nor I will be upset. We’ll find a way to make the best of it.”
Make the best of what? Why was Papa bringing up his dead brother? Unlike Crispin, whose behavior had been nothing short of scandalous, Kit had made a point of never courting any type of scandal at all. He would never willingly put his parents through that sort of anguish again. “Sir, I think you’d better just tell me what it is you’re talking about, because I haven’t the least idea.”
“Kit, are you already married?”
His breath stopped as if one of Jackson’s punches had landed square in the middle of his stomach. Hell and damnation. “Married!What the deuce gave you that idea?”
His father poured brandy into a second glass, pushing it across the desk to him. “You’d better have some of this.”
Kit took a sip, then set the tumbler down. This was no time to have his brain muddled. That would come later when, for only the second time in his life, he would drink himself into a stupor. “Where did you get the idea I had wed?”
“Lady Bellamny was in Northumberland to fetch her goddaughter’s daughter, whom she is sponsoring for the Season. While she was there—”
The hairs on the back of Kit’s neck prickled. “Where in Northumberland?”
“Rosebury.”
Rose Hill.
His father raised a brow. “May I continue? This will go much more quickly if you allow me to tell you what I know, and then ask questions.”
A flush crept up Kit’s cheeks. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry I interrupted.”
“As I was saying . . .” Papa took another drink. “When Lady Bellamny was there, she met a female calling herself Lady Mary Featherton who is residing at Rose Hill. That’s the property you inherited from your great-aunt, is it not?”
“Yes, sir.” That told him nothing. Mary must be the most common name in England, if it was indeed her real first name, which it probably was not. That the impostor had used the name of the woman he wished to wed made him want to strangle her. A dull ache began in Kit’s jaw and he unclenched his teeth.
“Have you been up there recently?”
“No, but that will change.”Immediately. “When did you speak with Lady B?”
“I did not. She told your grandmother, who was typically cryptic when she spoke to me, after which your mother did a very good job gleaning all the pertinent facts from Lady B. I, therefore, felt no need to approach her.” Papa took a sip of brandy. “I take it the lady is not, in truth, your wife?”
