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The Alderman shook with a silent laugh. “It’s a wise child who knows his father,” he quoted an old proverb. “And it behooves us to speak of a lady such as Dowager Lady Avery with utter respect.”
“Of course, I always do. And I would never say anything toMatthew. But sir—you cannot want Hester to marry a young man whose father might be an Italian count or might be Felipe Russo, a Venetian master mason and dealer in antiquities, or might be… he could be… he could be of my fathering, sir. What if he is my son? He was born during our… our time together, and when she came to England she brought him to my family, and told them he was my son.”
“Conceived during your connection?” the Alderman asked.
“Conceived before the ceremony,” Rob said wretchedly. “She was my lover before she was my wife.”
“She was never your wife, at all,” the Alderman corrected him. “The ceremony was invalid, so the question of his fathering does not come into it. My daughter tells me that Matthew is the son of Lady Avery’s first husband, the Prince Fiori, and the stepson of Sir James Avery. Anything else is slander.” He looked severely at Rob. “Probably actionable.”
Rob dropped his face into his hands and rubbed his aching forehead. “He wasn’t even a prince!” he exclaimed. “Look, sir, I have no wish to bring this all up again. I am just anxious for Hester’s health and happiness—”
“Julia says that she is halfway to being in love with him already?”
“I should never have allowed him to come to the house. I should never have allowed Hester to visit him.”
“Spilt milk,” the older man said shortly. “And how could you have denied your mother’s foster child? Look, Julia wants the connection, she’s no fool when it comes to her advantages. The lawyer has drawn up the contract and the settlement is generous. We haven’t heard from the Yorkshire executors yet—there’s no post from the north while these damned riots are going on. Hester likes the young man, he likes her. She gets a great name, and an introduction to the royal court. She might even get a post as a royal lady-in-waiting. Think of that! The young man gets a good dowry just as he is starting out in life, and he has a handsome manor to spend it on. You need meet his mother only once, at the signing of the register. She’s a lady, she’ll make no mention of the past—” He broke off. “You’ve told Julia nothing about Venice?”
“Nothing! As we agreed.”
The Alderman nodded his great head. “As we agreed. Good. And the lady is not going to discuss it. I think we’re all well and good.”
The grandfather clock behind him made a whirring noise and began to strike the hour. The Alderman became paternal. “You’re my son-in-law,” he told Rob. “You don’t have a father to advise you, so I’ll tell you something… What happened in Venice between a pretty widow and a young man was an affair, a secret affair, a sowing of wild oats. Whether you thought you were married, or she did, is neither here nor there. It’s not the sort of thing you tell your wife, it’s the sort of thing you forget about. The lady has put it behind her and gone on to rise very high in society. It’s not for you, as a gentleman, to bring it up again. It was many, many years ago. Forget it.”
“They cannot marry if they are within the proscribed degrees of affinity,” Rob said tightly. “They cannot marry if they are closely related in blood, even if not in law.”
“And that’s where we leave it to the young man’s mother, who is the only one of all of us who knows who his father is. She’s not going to let something like that darken his life, spoil the line. She wouldn’t have suggested it, if there was any doubt in her mind. Of course she would not. She’s not going to risk having a misbegotten misconceived grandson! Obviously, she knows you’re not his father. Who are we to raise the question? Such an indelicate question!”
“No,” Rob said, half convinced. “Of course—it’s against her own interest to marry Matthew to Hester if they are half sister and brother.”
The Alderman laughed at his son-in-law. “You were badly stung!” he said. “You don’t think much of her at all, do you?”
“She never does anything against her own interest,” Rob told him.
“The same as all of ’em,” the Alderman said fondly. “God bless ’em. Selfish as weasels, every one. But she won’t be putting a foot wrong here, you can count on it.”
HATTON GARDEN, LONDON, SPRING 1688
Livia and Matthew left the barge at the Holborn water stairs and walked up the road to Hatton Garden. She took his hand to support her walking in her high-heeled shoes. When they reached the door, she raked him with a glance from the top of his brown hair to his shining shoes. “Good,” was all she said. “You can knock.” She pinched his fingers. “Don’t call me ‘Dowager,’?” she hissed.
The moment the knocker had sounded, the door was opened by a footman.
“Lady Livia Avery and Mr. Matthew Peachey,” Matthew said, obeying the pressure of his mother’s hand and giving her Christian name and title rather than the more usual title of “Dowager.”
The footman bowed and opened the door to them, preceded them to the drawing room and opened the door. Hester was not in her usual place—looking out for him in the window seat—but demure on a silk-covered sofa with a gilt chair placed at her side. Julia was on the other sofa. Both ladies rose, curtseyed, and Julia gestured that Livia should sit beside her to allow Hester and Matthew to sit together.
“So pleased you could come,” Julia said.
“Delighted,” Livia returned.
The two of them looked with pleasure at their two children, who sat in silence, both of them paralyzed with embarrassment.
“And how do the wall hangings look in your new drawing room?” Livia turned to Julia. “Did you choose the yellow silk?”
“Ah, I promised to show you, didn’t I? Do come.” She turned to Hester, who had risen from her seat. “You stay, Hester, pour Mr. Peachey acup of tea when the tray comes. We’re just going to look at the drawing room curtains for a moment.”
She led the way out of the room. Matthew and Hester were alone in an awkward silence.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “My mother…”
