Page 48 of The Gentlewoman Companion

“Therein lies the problem. I’ve struggled to fill my father’s shoes, to take his place in Parliament. Now, I don’t want to. The position is tainted. Even if the letter is a fabrication, it’s drawn my attention to things I previously denied. I do not agree with my father’s politics.”

“Yes, but what of the child? Your half sibling?”

“I considered finding the woman to verify the story. But I fear the truth.”

“Are they cared for?”

“Are who cared for?”

“The child, the woman. You said they are in London?” She was fervent, sincerely concerned.

James struggled to orient himself to what Miss Thorpe was saying. His thoughts were all for his father, for the man he yearned to know better but who now seemed someone James may not respect. He’d not paused to wonder about the others involved, though they were the subject of the letter. Were they real and suffering or an excuse to exact funds?

“I hadn’t thought… How are you so wise?” he asked.

“I have been practicing for seventeen years. You are simply the first person to notice.” Her tone was playful.

They were almost to Idyllwild, approaching Halo Pond where a sculpture of a willow reached outward from the middle of the water. James turned the sluice. In moments, the metal willow began raining water into the pond.

“Beautiful!” After a pause she said, “I understand your hesitancy to find this woman. It may not be wrong to ignore the situation if confirming it will be painful to you and your mother.”

“She must never find out.”

“I will not tell her. You are her son and surely a better judge of her feelings.”

“Regardless of how painful the matter is for me, you are right. How can I ignore my own flesh and blood? They must be my responsibility now.”

“You would not be the first to dismiss such a connection.”

“Yes, but that does not make it right. What is the best course to care for them without dishonoring my mother?” Was he to hide his illegitimate family away as his father had? The idea made him feel sick.

Miss Thorpe watched him, sympathetic but impartial. “You must answer that, my lord.”

“But you would not leave your relatives to suffer, if you had the means to alleviate it.”

She would not answer, but her opinion was clear to him. He hadn’t even considered answering their needs, yet that had been almost her first concern. He resolved to be considerate of his half-siblings, who had not asked to be born into this world in such unfortunate circumstances. He would provide for them, somehow be better for them than his father had, although he had no idea how. Miss Thorpe’s compassion had inspired him, strengthened him to acknowledge that he must find a way to do at least this much.

A cold spray of water gusted over his face. He stepped back, but Miss Thorpe closed her eyes and opened her palms to the water. He braved a step toward the mist. Droplets of water sparkled off Miss Thorpe’s face. Her lashes splayed a shadow over her cheek bones. He might be as enamored with her as his mother was. He felt better simply standing beside her, water piercing his face like cool pinpricks.

Since his father’s death and the subsequent discovery of the letter, everything in his world had shifted to something more sinister. Like turning over a piece of wood covered in soft green moss to find it rotten and riddled with maggots. Miss Thorpe, though, remained fresh and genuine. Whenever he had mentioned her talents in the past, she had brushed them aside. Yet she should know what a gift she was to him and his mother, what light and joy she brought to Lundbrooke. She was a sun, oblivious to how her warmth awakened the world. He must make her understand—perhaps it would ease whatever burden she carried.