Page 21 of The Captain’s Valentine (The “Other” Trents #3)

Harrison had assumed that when the Duke of Clare saw Perdita that he would be assured that the woman who had taken care of Oliver was not his long-lost sister and it had only been the rantings of a madwoman. However, that did not appear to be the case.

He had never met Clare’s sister, the one who had not disappeared, so he had no way of knowing if the two were in truth identical. Perdita’s coloring matched His Grace, both had blonde hair and blue eyes, but hundreds of people shared the same coloring throughout England and Ireland.

What disturbed him was that Perdita’s brothers had not stepped forward to deny Clare’s claim.

“Are you certain she is your missing twin?”

Benedick asked.

“Yes! Not only is she identical to Cadla, but her voice is the same. If I closed my eyes, I would not be able to tell them apart,”

Clare answered.

Harrison remembered that first day he had arrived at Westbrook House, the first time that he had seen Perdita. He’d been carrying Oliver and when Perdita spoke, the child turned to look and immediately reached his arms out. Then, later, when they were seated inside, he had touched his pudgy hand on her cheek and frowned. At two, Oliver had recognized her, but also knew it wasn’t his mother, but given his young age was unable to reason it out.

“How is that possible that you are from Ireland? There is no accent,”

Demetrius insisted.

Why did that even matter? If Perdita was Clare’s sister, there were more important questions to be asked. Like why did they claim that she was a Valentine when she was not?

“Our mother made certain that there was no detection in our speech due to the prejudices the English hold for the Irish. But the real question is, how the hell did Cara Gallagher, come to be Perdita Valentine,”

he finally demanded.

“She was found in an alley in Seven Dials,”

Vicar Grant answered. “She was beside a woman who had been murdered.”

Grant entered the parlor to join his nephews.

Harrison glanced at Perdita. The color left her cheeks and he made his way to her side. It was clear that nobody had told her that she was not really a Valentine.

Perdita reached a hand for Harrison and she started to sink as if her knees were giving way. He supported her until she was on the settee once again, and he sat next to her, ready to protect her from what other horrible news she may hear.

“Unfortunately, such was not unusual in such a place, but I did try to locate a parent or guardian.”

“What of Bow Street?”

Clare demanded.

“I did go to them and they claimed that the only baby they knew about was missing from Mayfair and not likely to be found in Seven Dials.

“Did you even try to convince them to investigate further?”

Clare demanded.

“Yes. I did. I also explained where the babe had been found, that the babe was a girl, and the circumstances. They still dismissed me and assumed Perdita was likely the infant of a...not the missing infant from Mayfair.”

“So, you simply kept her!”

Clare yelled, color rising high in his cheeks.

Harrison could understand why he was upset, but it did no good to yell when the past could not be undone, especially when the vicar had gone to the authorities.

“I even tried to meet with the family—your family apparently and explain but was not granted access. Too many people had already claimed that they had found the missing infant in hopes of a reward. The family could not be bothered with a child found in Seven Dials.”

“My father refused you?”

“No, a servant. I do not know her position in the household or her name. But she looked at the child and claimed that she was not the missing infant.

Harrison couldn’t help but wonder if it was the nurserymaid who had turned Vicar Grant away.

“We could have had you back twenty-three years ago if Bow Street had bothered to investigate or if my father’s servants had not been inept or overly protective of my parents,”

Clare said to Perdita before he returned his gaze to Vicar Grant. “Why did you not search more thoroughly?”

“I had no reason to doubt the authorities, or a servant in the home, and my time in London was limited,”

Vicar Grant defended. “I visited that part of London often and there was never a shortage of orphans of every age.”

He looked at Perdita. “That is why you came with us. You were no different than your siblings to me and Mary and no reason why anyone should not believe you to be a Valentine.”

“But she is not. She is Lady Cara Gallagher, daughter of the Duke of Clare, and should have been raised with her family in Ireland,”

Clare yelled. “You had no right to keep her!”

Perdita’s hand tightened around his and if she were a man of equal size to him, Harrison had no doubt that he would be in pain.

“Vicar Grant has clearly explained that he attempted to find Miss Perdita’s family. Your yelling changes nothing. Further, it is your nurserymaid who is to blame, not the man who rescued her from potential death had he not stumbled upon her.”

Clare pushed his fingers through his hair then turned away.

Truly, his anger did not belong in this room or directed at them.

Harrison then glanced around the room to gauge the reactions of everyone else. The Valentine brothers were not at all surprised by this revelation. Even though they would have been children, they knew that she’d been found.

Further, Demetrius was glaring at him, then glanced at their entwined hands, then back into Harrison’s eyes. He would likely earn a black eye or bruised jaw, but Harrison was not letting go of Perdita at a time like this.

“Mother is in London, with our sister. When I tell them that you have been found they will be elated.”

Clare offered in a much calmer tone and then smiled. “I will take you directly to them now.”

Her hand squeezed even tighter.

“I am not certain Miss Perdita is ready for such an introduction,”

Harrison offered slowly. “This has come as quite a shock, as you must agree, and she may need more time to become used to the idea before she meets the rest of your family.”

“Her family.”

“So you say, but she had another one for twenty-three years, believing the entire time they shared the same parents, and the past few days have been trying enough. You must have patience and grant her time.”

Had he not known His Grace since Eton, Harrison may not have spoken in such an instructive tone to a duke, but they had, at one time, been close friends.

“Yes, of course, Harry,”

Clare mumbled. “But certainly, you know how momentous this is. You were the one friend at school who discussed it most with me as we imagined all the possible places she could have gone or been taken. You had even promised that once you were sailing the high seas that you would search for her on pirate ships.”

He looked at Perdita and smiled. “Instead, you found her in London. You still found her for us, Harry. Mother will want to see her immediately.”

They had been just boys and it was easier for Clare to believe his sister safe, even if she were a pirate, than what everyone, outside of the family, assumed—dead.

“Do not press her, Your Grace,”

Harrison said.

“No, of course not.”

He said after a moment as he smiled to Perdita. “I will wait until you are ready to meet the rest of your family.”

He glanced around the room one last time. “I will be going now. Thank you for returning not only my nephew to us, but my sister as well.”

Harrison thought Perdita would relax once he was gone, and no doubt have questions for her uncle, but she remained tense.

“Who found me?”

she demanded after the front door closed.

Her uncle had just told her so Harrison did not understand her question.

“Captain Trent, thank you for bringing His Grace by and taking care of Perdita. I am certain there are other places you are needed.”

“No!”

Perdita insisted. “Captain Trent stays.”

“This is a matter that should be discussed privately,”

Benedick said with a nod to Harrison.

“Why? To protect you?”

Perdita demanded as she stood. “We no longer need to protect our sisters. Their husbands know the family secrets, except about me, I assume.”

What other secrets could this family have?

“Or do you fear you will be judged if the truth came to light?”

she demanded.

Harrison had not seen her this way. Of course, he had not known her all that long, but most of the time she was happy, content with her lot in life, as she had phrased it. She found joy in practically everything. The only time that he had seen it diminished was when she was attacked and later in pain. Now, she was cold. He did not think it possible for her to be that way toward anybody or anything and it was rather disconcerting.

Perhaps he hadn’t come to know her as well as he believed. “Perdita…”

Demetrius warned.

“Captain Trent is my friend and right now, the only person I trust. I will have him with me.”

“Whatever I hear, I swear never to repeat,”

Harrison promised. He also needed to know what this family kept from Society, but only so that he could fully support Perdita in whatever came to be.

Perdita looked up at Harrison. “Could you please pour me a brandy? I do not believe tea will be sufficient for this conversation.”

“We found you in an alley in Seven Dials,”

Demetrius said quietly.

Harrison crossed to the sideboard for her glass of brandy as her brother began his confession.

“Who was with you?”

Perdita demanded.

“It was the three of us,”

Orlando answered.

“Continue!”

Perdita ordered.

“Like Oliver, you were in the alley next to a dead woman. We did not know what to do so we took you home.”

“We also feared that we would be accused of kidnapping or something,”

Benedick added.

“We did take turns going out to see if anyone was looking for a child or the dead woman,”

Demetrius added. “The body was found the next day and I stood and watched and listened, but nobody knew who she was and she was likely buried in a pauper’s grave.”

“I went to Bow Street and sat outside and listened, but all they talked about was thefts, pickpockets, and the baby missing from Mayfair,”

Benedick added. “Not the woman in the alley or that anyone was looking for her or a baby.”

“You did not think to inquire after the baby missing from Mayfair?”

Harrison asked.

Perdita nearly snorted. Her brothers were too young to have even considered the possibility that she had come from there and was not surprised that it did not occur to them.

“Perhaps you do not realize how young we were,”

Demetrius said.

“None of us would have believed someone so fine as to live in Mayfair would be in Seven Dials, not even a missing, kidnapped baby,”

added Benedick.

Harrison looked at her.

“I would have never considered the possibility,”

she answered.

“Besides, we thought the woman who had been killed in the alley was her mother,”

Orlando insisted.

“How long did you live there?”

he asked her.

“I did not. But I heard enough growing up to know how lucky we had been and why they would have never considered the possibility that I was a child from Mayfair.”

He nodded and handed her the glass of brandy she had asked for. She took a sip and cringed at the burn down the back of her throat but knew that the first taste was always the worst and she would finish the glass with no more discomfort.

“What of the woman who I believed was my mother?”

Perdita asked, her stomach tightening again at the lies they’d told her since her birth. No, since they found her.

“She had died two days before we found you. We could not tell you that, of course.”

“Then how did you explain my presence to the others?”

“They were too young to fully understand. All they knew was that when mother would get sick and take to her bed that there would soon be another baby. Our mother had been sick and we had another baby,”

Demetrius explained as if it was simple enough.

“How did you feed an infant?”

Harrison asked. “If you were just children, without an adult.”

“We stole enough to pay a wet nurse. Our mother needed one for Bertram because she was so weak, and we went to the same woman.”

“Nobody else knew but you three?”

Perdita asked. “None of our siblings.”

“No. Only us. It was a secret we thought we would take to our grave,”

Orlando glared at Demetrius. “We already had nine in our room, what was one more?”

“What was one more?”

She sank back down into a chair. “And you never thought to tell me?”

“What good would it have done?”

Demetrius demanded. “It would have changed nothing. We still would not have been able to tell you who your mother and father were.”

She turned to her uncle. “You knew.”

“I told Uncle Osborn when he found us. You had already been with us for almost a month.”

Her entire life had been a lie.

The pain of deception was so deep that she could not think about their lies right now. In time she would, but there were still questions as to the how, where and why. “If I am this Cara, why was I taken?”

“Superstition,”

Benedick answered, then told her what the former nurserymaid had explained.

The screams of the mad woman, the one who had attacked her, made sense now. Horrible, awful sense.

Perdita stared at her brothers Demetrius, Benedick and Orlando, with anger and betrayal churning within. They had lied to her from the moment they found her. Had Oliver not been taken from his home, she might not have ever learned the truth. Ever! “Had you told me that I had been found by a dead body, I would have accepted that fact. I know the world we came from.”

Or where she thought she had come from because she had no memory of it, only stories. “A dead woman leaving behind an infant was unfortunate, not unusual. I would have thanked you for saving me and pretended to be your sister when we all became Valentines.”

Could she even forgive this lie?

“We discussed it when you were younger, but the longer we put it off, the more difficult it became until we decided that it was not really necessary that you know. You are still our sister no matter the circumstances,”

Benedick implored.

They all watched and waited for her to do something, but she was numb. Even Harrison was silent beside her and she could only imagine what he thought of her now. Clearly, he realized that she had lied about India and how she came to live with Uncle Osborn and Aunt Mary.

Lies! Her brothers to her and hers to Harrison.

She had always hated lying about her family, but it had become acceptable, even though Perdita detested making the false claims. The family secret of her origins had not been necessary to keep from her.

“I am here,”

Harrison whispered. “Do you want to talk? We can go into the gardens.”

Her friend, the man she loved, remained by her side. If only he loved her. It was likely that he never would now, but he remained a friend, by her side in what might be the most devastating moment of her life.

She closed her eyes and bit back a bitter chuckle. He may have considered courting her when he returned to England, but he would not now. She had lied to him. Or, he wouldn’t have if he learned where the Valentines had truly come from.

Except, she wasn’t a Valentine, but a sister to a duke. Perhaps that was enough that her lies would not matter. It might not matter.

No, he would not suddenly find her unacceptable if he learned that she was a Valentine any more than he would suddenly find her desirable because of who her brother was. She wanted to believe, to the very depths of her soul, that neither of those would matter to Harrison.

She had to believe it because it was the only thing that she could trust in right now.

“I would take you away if you wished, but I fear your injury.”

She had forgotten about her arm, likely because she hadn’t moved it.

She also needed to get out of this house. Away from her family. “Yes. I do want to leave.”

Perdita stood. Harrison also came to his feet and followed.

“Perdita, you should remain,”

Demetrius called after her.

“We need to discuss this further,”

Benedick said.

“I have learned enough and wish to be alone.”

“I thought you were leaving,”

Orlando said.

“I am,”

she answered then turned to Harrison. “I will return in a moment.”

She calmly walked up the stairs and pulled the valise from her wardrobe. She then placed a few of her dresses, stockings, shoes and anything else that she might need to be away for a few days before she looked around the chamber one last time to make certain she had not forgotten anything. Only then did she sink down on her bed. She was not a Valentine, not that any of them were, but she had believed them to be her siblings, all from the same mother. Instead, she was the sister of the Duke of Clare and apparently her name was Cara Gallagher.

“Cara Gallagher.”

It did not sound right, or natural.

She glanced around one more time. She was not leaving for good. Just for now. If she remained, her brothers would give her no peace, and soon, the rest of her siblings would know and she did not want to witness their anger, or surprise, when they learned how they had also been lied to.

What if it changed how they viewed her? Would they no longer see her as one of them?

It wouldn’t be for the three oldest because they had always known and had not treated her any differently, but that did not mean the others would not withdraw their affection.

Perdita did not anticipate that they would, but it was not entirely improbable either, which would shatter her heart.

At least Isabella nor Bianca would not know for months, or for how long it took for a letter to reach them, assuming one of their siblings would put such news in a missive.

On the other hand, they may wait until the two returned instead of taking the risk that someone might open a private correspondence, depending on what they intended to include in their writing.

With a sigh, she stood, picked up her valise and returned downstairs.

“Where are you going?”

Demetrius demanded.

“I no longer need to explain myself to you.”

“Be reasonable, Perdita,”

Benedick insisted. “You cannot just go off without telling us where you will be.”

“Are you going to them?”

Orlando asked quietly.

“Who?”

Perdita returned.

“His Grace.”

Did they truly believe she would run to her new family? “No. I do not even know them. I need to sort us out before I face them.”

“We are sorted,”

Demetrius insisted.

“You are sorted and have been for twenty-three years. I have not been.”

She had always been confident in who she was and what she wanted but how much of it was a lie?

Except, there was one place where she belonged, regardless of her name.

“Could you take me away from here?”

she asked Harrison.

“I will take you wherever you need to go.”

“Thank you.”

“Where is that?”

Orlando demanded.

Perdita did not answer and crossed the entry and opened the door.

“If you are seen leaving with him, carrying a valise…”

Benedick stopped short of claiming that she would be ruined. Likely because he realized that she did not care.

“At least send word of where you are so that we do worry,”

Demetrius asked calmly.

She paused on the stoop. Despite their lifelong lie, they did love her. “I will come home when I am ready.”

If she was ever ready.