“As you wish, sir.”
Knight took one last look out the window at the idyllic scene playing out before him and hoped he wasn’t on the verge of making a horrendous mistake.
But when he strode into the drawing room, he had an inkling of why Arianna hadn’t seemed at all surprised when he’d announced he was her father. Even if she hadn’t comprehended exactly what a father’s role was, she’d known they belonged together.
Presently he could be staring at his own reflection within a cheval glass or a clear stream. Or a reflection of what he might look like in another quarter of a century. The man’s dark hair was streaked with silver, his neatly trimmed beard all silver. His eyes were a startling blue, shining with a generosity and benevolence of spirit. Knight couldn’t imagine the man ever taking the flat of his palm to his son’s cheek—at least not without a damned good reason. He rather thought that even without their similarities in appearance, had he passed this gent on the street, he’d have immediately felt a connection to him, would have recognized blood calling to blood, like to like.
For several minutes they simply looked at each other, took each other in. Finally, his guest inclined his head in a shallow nod of acquiescence. “Your Grace.”
“Arthur or Knight will suffice. I’ve not yet grown accustomed to being duke.” Wasn’t certain he ever would. “May I offer you a libation?”
His father, his true father, shook his head. “No, thank you. Your mother... is she well?”
“Quite. I am given to understand you showed her a kindness... when she most needed it.”
“It was indeed my honor and privilege to have known her... as a friend.”
Knight was striving to determine how much to divulge, how much the man might wish to know, howmuch he’d rather leave to the past. During their correspondence, Knight hadn’t admitted to knowing the man was his father, nor had Gurney acknowledged being so. He suspected in their own way they were each striving to protect a woman they loved.
Light footsteps echoed faintly. Then his mother was entering the room. “Arthur, Shelby informed me you wish to—oh, my word. John?”
Knight had turned and stepped aside in time to witness his mother’s features softening with delighted surprise.
“Hello, Lizzie.”
In a million years, he’d have never imagined his mother, Elizabeth, being addressed so informally, but she suddenly looked like a young girl, blushing with pleasure. He thought if the duke hadn’t died, he might have gone to the estate to strangle him at that moment.
“In all these years, you haven’t changed one iota,” she said.
He grinned warmly. “My barber might disagree.”
“The silver gives you a very distinguished air. I rather like it.” She cast a brief glance Knight’s way. “It seems my son has been... getting up to some mischief. Knowing how he can be rather demanding, I do hope he didn’t force you to come.”
“On the contrary, I was pleased to receive the invitation and to have the opportunity to see how you’ve fared.”
“Well, do sit. I want to hear about all you’ve been up to these many years. I want to know everything about your family.”
“I have no family.”
“You never married?”
Slowly he shook his head. “My heart remained engaged elsewhere.”
This time when his mother looked at Knight, tears were welling in her eyes. He walked over to her, bussed a kiss across her cheek, and said in a low voice near her ear, “He has a family here if it’s what the two of you want.”
He stepped away from her. “I’ll leave you to discuss matters in privacy. It was an honor to meet you, sir. For the happiness you gave my mother, I shall always be in your debt.”
Striding from the room, he was rather certain that on this day, the size of his family was going to grow by one.
Sitting on the bench, Regina observed Arianna playing in the garden under Princess’s watchful eye. The spaniel had turned out to be a rather good guardian, and at six, their daughter had recently declared she was too old for a nanny. They’d also begun celebrating her birthday on the true date and month of her birth. The twentieth of March. She was too young to truly note the difference.
Hearing the soft footfalls, Regina glanced over and watched her husband approach, his strides long and leisurely, his features calm and serene, a small smile playing over his lips. Strange that he was older now but appeared younger. She’d noticed the transformation after they were married. He was no longerbattling demons—whether in the form of guilt or the duke. He was at peace with the decisions he’d made.
She couldn’t bring herself to address him by his recently acquired title. He was still her Knightly, her Knight, her Arthur. He’d begun making all the repairs needed on the estates, but she didn’t know if they’d ever make their home there. But then,hewas home, more than any physical dwelling.
He was also a master tactician when it came to investments. He’d been correct about the ones he’d recommended to Lord Chidding. Apparently, they’d paid off handsomely and the viscount had visited a few days earlier to pay back the money Knightly had loaned him. He’d also shared with Regina that he’d been courting someone and would soon be asking for her hand, once he brought his estate up to snuff. He’d blushed when he’d admitted to loving the young lady. Regina had kissed him on his reddened cheek and wished him all the happiness in the world.
Now Knightly dropped down beside her, took her hand, lifted it to his mouth, and pressed a kiss to the heart of her palm before closing her fingers over it, so she could hold the gift he’d bestowed.
