“Go on, Piccola.” He chucked her chin. “We, the aged, will keep to our leisurely pace.”
Caroline smiled. “You’d think I’ve kept you locked away from the girls your own age, the way you carry on.”
“Don’t be silly, Mama. You’re wonderful, too. It’s just…” Emily’s eyes went soft and distant. “How lovely it must be to have a sister.”
Yes. Eliza—and, by extension the rest of the wonderful Misses Wainwright—could become part of an extended familial connection to the D’Acres.
He nudged Emily’s shoulder. “Sisters can be quite the trial.”
“Go on!” Emily rapped him back on his arm. “You adore me.”
“That, I do.”
He had loved Emily since she was born. Vowed, in fact, that he’d never allow another sibling to be lost to him. He hadn’t left his father’s household until he’d been certain Emily would be safe in Caroline’s hands.
Caroline. He gave her a sidelong glance. Who’d been chosen for his father by Bessie and his mother. He turned back to Emily.
“Be off, scamp,” he said.
“And be mindful of your shoes!” Caroline called.
Emily skipped on down the slope, while calling out and waving to her favorite of the milk maids.
“Not exactly the picture of propriety, is she?” Caroline mused.
When he gave her no answer, she turned. Her smile faded at this sight of his obviously troubled expression.
“What’s the matter?”
“I had an interesting talk with Mrs. Dove-Lyon last night.”
Caroline stiffened as if bracing for impact. “I thought you might have gone to the Lyon’s Den yesterday afternoon. You finally saw the familial resemblance, didn’t you?”
“Yes. And while I was there, I read my mother’s letters. All of them.Caroline.” He didn’t mask his disappointment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh, Adrian, don’t be angry.”
“I’m not angry. Just…perplexed. You could have had your pick of any suitor. Why go to Mrs. Dove-Lyon and arrange a match with my father, knowing what he was? Why agree to any of this?”
“Believe me, I had plenty of suitors.” She pursed her lips as if she’d tasted something bitter. “Not the kind seeking marriage, but the kind who wished to place me under their protection, to offer me carte blanche.”
Adrian winced.
“I was of good family,” she continued, “but when my father died in the middle of my first Season, he left me with no money, and no male relations to guard me from their importuning…”
He’d never really considered what life must be like for an attractive, genteel, but impoverished lady. “Still, I don’t understand. Did Bessie convince my father to wed you?”
“He was one of my most ardent pursuers. He wanted me for a mistress. He would never have offered more, but for Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s threats. She’d told him she knew about the baby.”
“And he didn’t take this forcing of his hand out on you?”
“Never. Bessie can be very…persuasive—”
He interrupted her with a bitter laugh. “Yes, I know.”
“And what I told you before was true. The moment I laid eyes on Emily, I knew I would protect her with my life. Before God, I promised I would care for your father. I’ve kept both promises.”
“That you have…and at great cost.”
