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Mrs. Shepherd’s mouth tightened, disapproval stamped upon her features. “That’s because the blackguard was arrested for abducting you as a child.”
“Pardon?” Faith felt the blood drain from her face and pool in the soles of her feet. At this moment, if she stood, she’d fall flat on her face.
She’d been abducted?
Why?
Who was she?
Where was her family? Who was her family?
The questions came one after another, careening around in her head and bouncing off her skull with such intensity she felt momentarily light-headed.
Who am I?
Constantine must’ve seen her distress, for he excused himself from his friends and came to sit beside her. He took her hand in his, lending her his strength and comfort. At his touch, peace shrouded her. Everything would be all right.
“I’m right here, my love.”
How Faith adored him. She searched his eyes. “Did you know?”
“No, he did not.” Compassion etched Mrs. Shepherd’s lined face. “You see, my dear, Petheringham is your stepbrother and the man who called himself John Smith. He brought you to Haven House and Academy for the Enrichment of Young Women.”
Shock rendered Faith speechless. She’d anticipated what Mrs. Shepherd might reveal, but it certainly wasn’t that her stepbrother had abducted her.
“He was after the fortune and believed with you out of the way, as the eldest surviving stepsibling, the funds would transfer to him.”
“Fortune?” Faith shook her head.
“Substantial fortune thanks to wise investments of the trustees,” Mrs. Shepherd said.
“I’m so confused.” Faith hated that her voice trembled.
“Yes, it is quite a lot to take in.” Mrs. Shepherd exchanged a speaking glance with Constantine. “But you should know the whole of it. That is if you are up to it.”
“By all means.” Faith would know at last who she was.
Constantine linked his fingers with hers.
“Your given name is Bernadette Rennison, and you were left a fortune in trust by your grandfather, Chadwick Fernsby, Viscount Aberforth.”
“My grandfather was a viscount?”
An understanding, if somewhat indulgent, smile warmed Mrs. Shepherd’s face. “Indeed, and your mother was his only child. A nephew, I believe, inherited the viscountcy and all of the entailed property. Lord Aberforth’s personal fortune he bequeathed to you.”
“Not his daughter?” Constantine asked.
Shrugging, Mrs. Shepherd flicked a Shrewsbury biscuit crumb from her lap. “I can only speculate that he didn’t approve of your mother’s choice of husbands.”
“Your mother remarried, acquiring two stepsons and a stepdaughter, each much older than you. Widowed a second time, she passed away six months after Mr. Petheringham, leaving you, a mere toddler, alone in the world. Aloysius Petheringham—the eldest of your three step-siblings—thought to steal your inheritance. It appears your other stepsiblings were unaware of their brother’s perfidy.”
Mrs. Shepherd’s censorious sniff relayed what she thought of the scoundrel. “For the past two decades, he’s been attempting to access the funds without success.”
“How is it that he came to be arrested?” Faith asked, her mind reeling with the confounding information.
Mrs. Shepherd swiftly told them of her suspicions all those years ago, Petheringham’s unnerving letters, his demands to know Faith’s whereabouts, and how the investigator Mrs. Shepherd had recently hired uncovered information that suggested Petheringham wanted Faith—Bernadette—declared dead.
“I feared for your safety and have regretted I wasn’t more suspicious of him from the beginning.” Remorse shadowed the corners of Mrs. Shepherd’s face. “There’ve been so many girls over the years that perhaps I’ve grown immune to the depths of wickedness and depravity mankind will sink to.”
