Page 59 of The Lyon Rampant

Without objection, Piers sat, spread the letter out on the table, glanced at Roland Chetwynd’s anxious face, and then read his missive again.

“Have you had a bad journey? Was I wrong to ask you to meet me here? Or is it something in that letter that has unsettled you?”

“This damned letter.” He read it a third time, hardly able to absorb its contents. Surely, Charlotte would not be so vindictive? Hadn’t he done everything she’d ever required of him?

“I’m all ears, but if you wish to keep it private, I totally understand. I’m discretion itself these days,” Roland assured him.

Piers seized the glass of wine that had been brought for him and drained it in a single draught. “I will find a way to stop this. I must.”

Roland sensibly refilled his glass, handed it back to him and waited, his expression solemn.

Piers nodded. “I suppose I may as well tell you, as it could involve your family. And it may even involve your services again. Do you remember when we went to persuade Charlotte Lavoisier to allow me to see my son?”

“I most certainly do!”

“Well—it seems she’s heard of my forthcoming marriage to Miss Bellamy. She’s decided to take action by demanding that I renounce Belinda and marry her instead. If I don’t accede to her demand, she’ll take my son out of the country and I’ll never see either of them again.”

Now that the words had been spoken, the enormity of this development struck him like a physical blow. He rested both elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands. He’d been a fool to underestimate Charlotte, and now she was forcing him to make an impossible choice. On the one hand, he stood to lose Belinda and his future happiness. On the other, he stood to lose any chance of knowing little Oliver or having any say in his life. The boy would grow up with Charlotte’s poison in his ears, and hate his father for abandoning them.

What in heaven’s name was he going to do now?