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“My lord,” Johnson began, and then paused as he wrung his hands. “Ahem. Do you recall ‘sweet blonde, five foot, about three and twenty years of age, worked at Duke of Rosbury’s castle in Kent in 1815’?”
Richard blanched and gave a curt nod.
“Kitty Smith died in childbirth in March 1816. She refused to name the father. Her son, Ethan, lives with Kitty’s aunt and her family in Derby. He—ahem—has dark brown hair and green eyes …” Johnson’s ramble ended. “My lord,” he remembered to interject.
Johnson shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, his demeanor most unhappy.
“The boy is four years old?” Richard whispered. Johnson gave a quick nod.
“Any chance he is not mine?”
Johnson looked away and coughed discreetly. “The house staff in Kent knew of no liaisons, despite being offered a reward for information. They did indicate that Kitty handed in her resignation about two months after the summer house party, which comprised mostly gentlemen from London. From what they said, Kitty was enamored with the peerage and they suspected she had fallen for the glib lines of one of those guests. They considered she was a good girl, properly raised.”
Richard could hear his heart thudding loudly in the ensuing silence.
“And what of the aunt’s circumstances?” Richard finally asked.
“She is married to a tenant farmer and has six children of her own besides Ethan. They appear to be a relatively successful and upstanding household. The aunt and her husband would be willing to hand him over to the father’s care if promises were made to maintain their family connection. She wants to know about family visits before she will acknowledge parentage.”
Richard had not thought that a man could experience two earth-shattering life revelations within the span of less than a week. He had been wrong.
“Green eyes are not common,” he choked out.
“No, my lord.”
Looking at his reflection in the glass cradled in his hand, Richard recognized, more than a little nonplussed, that he, in fact, knew of no other men in his acquaintance with green eyes.
Drawing a deep breath, silently he prayed that Sophia would not call off the wedding at this news. He would not blame her if she did. She certainly deserved better than him. However, his duty to the boy was clear. He was ashamed that strangers brought up his son, while he did not even know of his existence. There was only one honorable move to make, and that was to claim his child and take responsibility for his upbringing and future.
“Return to the aunt and offer them one of my smaller unentailed properties in gratitude for all they have done to take care of my … my … son,” he croaked. He fought to compose himself before he continued.
“The estate is to be held in trust while the steward apprentices them in the managing of the estate. We will arrange visits over the summer so that the boy may join them. He is to come stay with me, and I would like to interview prospective nursemaids to look after him. I will inform Radcliffe to prepare the nursery, and perhaps we have someone suitable on our staff to promote to that position. My boy must receive the best—a loving hand to take care of him as we become acquainted.” It gratified him to hear the decisive ring in his voice as he spoke. He sounded more confident than he felt.
Staring at the tumbler in his hand, he recalled that Sophia would prefer it if he did not drink. He was to be married and answer to another person, which was startling enough. Now he must think about a son—a living, breathing four-year-old boy who would enter his household with needs and expectations.
“Damnation! ” He roared and threw his cut glass across the room, where it shattered in the fireplace. Johnson jumped.
“How do I tell Sophia? I pray she still wants to marry me after this devastating turn of events! What lady of thetonwould marry into a family with a bastard son in residence? What a sham of a life I have led! How can I make amends for such thoughtless interference in people’s lives? If only I had kept my breeches buttoned, but I had to be an insouciant prick with another man’s household and my son, his mother, and now my betrothed bear the consequences!”
He spun toward Johnson. “Tell me that no one knows of this disaster except for the boy’s family?” Before Johnson could answer, Richard threw his hands up in despair.
“Never mind, all of polite society is going to notice that I have a son living in my household before the Season is over. They will call him that, you know? They will call him a bastard through no fault of his own!” Richard paced as his mind reeled with complications. “This is hell!I have let so many people down. Leave me, Johnson. I need time to wallow in self-pity before I throw myself on Sophia’s mercy.Richard, you fucking idiot! ” he yelled at himself, a maelstrom of emotions breaking over him in waves.
Johnson took his cue to scurry out the door, his relief palpable. Richard sank into a chair, dropping his face into his hands. He had been so careful not to sire any children, but his promiscuous activities had caught up with him and now he learned he had a son living without a father all these years. He was so … so … mortified by his selfish carryings-on.
CHAPTER5
Peregrine Balfour sauntered into Richard’s study where he was sitting with his head in his hands, lamenting his past. He raised his head to glare at the languid gentleman who was pouring a French brandy at the sideboard.
“Where the hell have you been, little brother?”
“A vivacious widow held me in her clutches.”
“For more than a week?”
“She kept me captive in her bed. I barely escaped with my life,” quipped Perry.
Richard groaned, dropping his head back into his hands.
