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She’d known she would have to confront Charles’s grandparents again, probably soon. But that Dom would suggest it, and offer to take her there and stand as her champion in dealing with the only people who could threaten to take Charles from her—that, she had never envisioned.
‘I don’t mean to meddle in what you see as your business,’ he continued when she didn’t immediately reply, ‘but wouldn’t settling this now put your mind at ease?’
Relief and gratitude filled her. ‘Oh, yes! It would mean a great deal to have it settled. And please, “meddle” all you like!’
He smiled at her, the look so tender her chest grew tight and she had to hold back tears, the affection she struggled against threatening to engulf her.
‘Plan on it, then. I don’t want you to worry about losing Charles ever again. I promise, I’ll make sure that never happens. Trust me, Theo?’
‘I trust you,’ she whispered. And I’m very much afraid I love you, too.
Chapter Twenty-One
A week later, their carriage approached the pastoral vista before the old Tudor manor of Hazlett Hall. Dom watched Theo closely, a curious mixture of jealousy and concern warring in his chest.
For one, he’d like to put to an end for good and all any lingering connection to the man she’d loved so deeply. On the other, he knew that as long as Charles remained of primary concern—and that would be for ever—he would have to deal with her memories of the man who’d sired him. And for her to truly be open to finding happiness again, she would have to be assured of keeping her son.
He’d already displaced Marshall Hazlett in her arms. Though he really didn’t begrudge her fond memories of her child’s father, he hoped to soon rival the man in her affections. But securing the boy’s future he could and would settle today.
Clasping and unclasping her hands, she gazed out the window at the manor house, Charles dozing by her side. Attuned now to signs of her nervousness, he captured one of her restless fingers.
‘Steady, Theo. Everything will work out as you wish. I promise you.’
She nodded. ‘I’m so very grateful you offered to accompany me. It seems so...strange, coming here, seeing the place where Marshall grew up, where I once thought I’d return as his bride.’
‘Forgive me for preferring that you’re coming here as mine.’
She smiled, a little forlornly. ‘Forgive me for letting myself be dragged into the past. I’m not sorry that he was so large a part of it—and I am very, very glad that you are my future.’
‘Glad’ wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for, but under the circumstances, he would have to settle for it. Giving her a kiss to signify his approval of that sentiment, he leaned her back. ‘What do you know of Viscount Hazlett’s feelings about Charles? I suspect his opinion will have more impact as to how we resolve this than his wife’s.’
‘I really don’t know anything. Lady Hazlett spoke of her own longing to reclaim a part of her blood, but she gave me no sense of how enthusiastic, or resistant, her husband was to that desire.’
Dom could see apprehension in the furrow of her brow. ‘We shall soon see. And don’t worry, sweeting, regardless of his position, we will agree to nothing that does not guarantee Charles remains with you.’
A few minutes later, the carriage drew up before the entrance, and Dom gave Theo’s hand a reassuring squeeze. He’d sent a note ahead to Viscount Hazlett, so he wasn’t surprised when the butler, who escorted them through a timbered great hall into a wainscoted withdrawing room, informed him that Lord and Lady Hazlett would receive them shortly.
While Charles delightedly examined the carvings of griffins and gargoyles on the roof beams, Theo paced before the fire. Dom watched her, wishing there was more he could do to ease her anxiety—about the interview to come, and for the heartache she must inevitably feel at knowing her son, but for his father’s early death the viscount’s rightful heir, had no legal right to the home whose sculptures so fascinated him.
The door opened, admitting a tall, balding man whose grey hair might once have been fair, and a slender, still lovely lady—who had eyes for no one but the boy.
Hearing them enter, Charles halted his inspection and looked over as Lady Hazlett walked towards him, a tremulous smile on her face. ‘Welcome to our home, my dear!’
Dom had to admire the lad’s manners, for he gave her a proper bow before saying, ‘You came to visit us at Thornfield, didn’t you?’
‘I did,’ she affirmed.
‘I have my pony now. When you visit again, I’ll be able to ride ever so well.’
‘I’m sure you shall,’ Lady Hazlett said. Holding out her hand, she said, ‘May I introduce you to someone? My husband, Lord Hazlett.’
Charles didn’t look impressed, but he took her hand and let her walk him over to the gentleman who’d stopped abruptly just inside the room, his gaze locked on his wife and the boy.
The viscount was scrutinising the child as avidly as Charles was inspecting him. Dom watched his face as scepticism gave way to surprise, and as the boy drew closer, he paled and shuddered visibly.
‘Lord Hazlett, may I present Charles,’ his wife said.
Charles made another bow. ‘Pleased to meet you, my lord,’ he piped.
Dom turned his attention to Theo, who had been observing the proceedings with anxious eyes. Nothing the highest stickler could find to fault in the boy’s manners so far, Dom thought—he was the picture of a well-brought-up gentleman’s son.
First hand to Theo.
Lady Hazlett looked back over her shoulder at Dom and Theo. ‘Mr and Mrs Ransleigh, forgive my lack of manners. I wished Lord Hazlett to see Charles before we proceeded any further. You both are also very welcome in our home. Now, if you will permit, Mrs Ransleigh, I’d like to take Charles up to the nursery while you speak with Lord Hazlett.’
Getting the child out of the way so he couldn’t overhear anything he shouldn’t, Dom thought approvingly. It seemed Lady Hazlett had the boy’s welfare at heart, then.
Turning back to Charles, Lady Hazlett said, ‘We have some very fine toy soldiers in the nursery. And some balls and games and a toy horse that your f—that other children enjoyed very much.’
‘Soldiers?’ Charles echoed. ‘Oh, I would like to see them. May I go, Miss Theo?’
‘Of course, Charles. Mind your manners, now.’
‘I always do. You know that,’ he said calmly before trotting out with Lady Hazlett.
Lord Hazlett stared out the open door until the pair was out of sight. Still pale, he started when he turned back to them, as if surprised there was still someone in the room.
‘I’m Hazlett, of course,’ he said belatedly, bowing to Theo and holding out a hand to Dom. ‘You’re Swynford’s nephew, aren’t you?’ Turning to Theo, he said, ‘So you’re the woman my son meant to wed?’ Glancing towards the door through which Charles had just exited, he said, ‘A pity you didn’t bother to get your marriage lines before you proceeded to that.’
Theo’s chin jerked up and her eyes turned cold. ‘Yes, isn’t it? But since that guarantees the child has no claim on you, we will just collect him and take our leave.’
Before Dom, in a fury, could utter something blighting and lead her away, the viscount held up a hand. ‘I’m sorry, that was unkind. I must ask you to forgive an old man’s shock...and pain.’ He sighed. ‘But for a Frenchman’s bullet, or a few weeks’ delay, I’d not be facing the prospect of turning the home of my ancestors over to a cousin, instead of the son of my son.’
‘There’s nothing anyone can do to change the laws that prevent Charles from inheriting,’ Dom said. ‘But if you’d like to salvage some relationship with the son of your son, we’re prepared to discuss it—as long as you treat my wife with respect.’
‘My apologies, Mrs Ransleigh,’ the viscount said. ‘There will be no living with my wife if we don’t reach some agreement. Won’t you take a seat? I’ll have Sanders bring wine.’
Giving Theo a reassuring look, Dom led her to the sofa, their host seating himself in the wing chair opposite. ‘I have to admit, I didn’t really believe all that nonsense Tremaine spouted when he visited here. A nasty piece of work, that one, and his father before him. It angered me to have him lead Emily on—she’s never stopped mourning the loss of all her chicks, and to have him setting her up for more heartache! Which is what I thought you’d done, too, young lady, when she visited you. But she’s right; the boy is the image of Marshall at that age.’
‘Why would I lead her on? Since having anyone question the already accepted story of Charles’s parentage would put him at risk, I should probably, by rights, have denied the story and turned her away. But I could see how much it would ease the pain of Marshall’s loss for her to know his son—and I couldn’t.’
