Page 74 of Brigand

He hadn’t been able to get close to Violet. She’d beensurrounded at every turn. Edward had done a credible job of distracting Ned,but Violet had been plagued by suitors and engaged in conversations with othergirls and boxed in by matrons all evening.

Panic had begun to creep into his soul.

If his men could see him now they would laugh like lunatics.Here he sat, sweat beading his brow like an untried boy, dressed like a buffoonin a starchy suit with points that could take out an eye.

He had to find a way to talk to her. And he had to do ittonight.

She was carrying his child, for Christ’s sake. Also, hewanted very much to kiss her.

“There.” Kaitlin took the seat next to him. “I’ve set it upfor you. Violet’s waiting for you in the library.” He gaped at the duchess. Shenudged him with an elbow. “Well? Go on. She’s waiting.”

Anticipation and excitement and dread warred within him. Heleapt to his feet. But as he headed down the hall, he was waylaid by RobinGranger. An older gentleman was with him, a man he introduced as his father.The Earl of Walsham.

Ewan glanced at the man, impatience nudging him to move on.But he couldn’t. He couldn’t just nod and say something banal and pass them by.There was something about the older man, something that poleaxed him.

The glint in his—very familiar—eyes. The cut of his jaw. Theshape of his lips.

“So,” he gusted. “You’re Ewan St. Andrews.”

“Aye.” Ewan took, and shook, the extended hand. Walshamdidn’t seem inclined to let it go.

“Tell me, boy. What was your mother’s name?”

Ewan’s brow quirked. “Fiona.”

The man paled. Swallowed. Staggered back just a bit.

Robin stepped closer. “Father, are you all right?”

“Yes. Yes. I’m…fine. Just a bit of a shock, is all.”

Ewan quirked his brow. Really? “A shock, sir?”

Their gazes met, locked. “Hearing her name again. You see,my boy, I knew a Fiona once. Fiona Carlisle. Lovely girl.”

“I see.” He did not.

“We met in St. Andrews. We were both there on holiday.” Hisintensity made it clear there was much more to it than that. “I was quite inlove with her.” His throat worked. “After we parted, I realized I couldn’t livewithout her so I went to Aberdeen and found her family. They said…she’d left.Didn’t know where she’d gone. Didn’t care.”

Ah. The picture was becoming clearer. His mother’s peoplehailed from Aberdeen. People who had tossed her out. When she’d discovered shewas carrying him.

Tears teased at the old man’s lashes. “I never did find heragain though I took my holiday at St. Andrews for years.” He sighed. “Ieventually married. She was a charming girl. A wonderful mother.” He patted hisson on the shoulder. “But I never forgot my Fiona. Would she…could she be yourmother?” His voice cracked just a bit. When Ewan didn’t answer, he added almostwistfully, “You have her dimples.”

Emotion, regret and heartbreak for this man—and hismother—clogged his throat. He set his hand on Walsham’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,sir. My mother passed away fifteen years ago.”

The man shrank. His hopeful smile collapsed. “I, ah, oh. Mysympathies.” He said nothing more but continued to stare at Ewan. “And yourfather?”

“Never knew him.”

“Ah. I see.” The old man’s eyes welled up. “You look verymuch like my son.”

“Yes, sir. I do.”

“You realize I could very well be your father.”

He had realized that. The first time he’d seen Walsham. Thefirst time he’d seen Robin, really. “I would be honored, sir.” He glanced atRobin and nodded. “I always did want a brother.”

Robin grinned. “Four.”