Page 6 of The Maid (Rags to Richmonds #1)

CHAPTER SIX

“ I refuse to believe it,” Lord Tipton said, shaking his head for what must have been the hundredth time. “I grant you, the likeness is extraordinary, but there was one child by the name of Richmond at that children’s home—and that child was you . If there had been others, we would have been informed.”

“There must have been some mistake,” Lord Oakley replied. His ebullience had not wavered in the face of his father’s doubt. If anything, he had become even more enthusiastic. Yet, the harder he tried to convince everyone, the more stubbornly his father rejected the idea.

“The only mistake was that you brought her here. Son, this is not the same as bringing home an injured bird or stray puppy. Those we could at least release back into the wild once you were done playing nursemaid to them. What were you thinking we might do with a maid ?”

“I was thinking that you would join me in welcoming her into the family and help me make amends for the years of deprivation she has suffered.”

“Make amends? To an unknown girl from Lord Grisham’s kitchen?” He turned to his wife. “Do you hear this, Louisa?”

Lady Tipton had been sitting in silence until that point, and the way she fidgeted with her bracelet made it seem as though she had not been paying attention. But she nodded her head thoughtfully when addressed, and said, “I have heard what James has said, yes. Are you so ready to dismiss the matter? If she is Robert’s daughter, then it is our duty to help her.”

“She cannot be Robert’s daughter. Robert had no daughters!”

“We do not know that, Charles.”

“Yes, we do. Let us be frank, she could just as easily be Damian’s issue as Robert’s. God knows, he must have a trail of by-blows dotted up and down the country!”

“Except, she has my eyes—my mother’s eyes,” Lord Oakley insisted.

“A fortunate coincidence indeed! You have been thoroughly taken in, boy.”

“I have not!”

Adelaide watched the scene before her with a slightly detached sense of horror. An earl, a countess, and a viscount were variously sitting, standing, and pacing about the austere chamber to which she had been marched, arguing heatedly over her future—none of them with any perceivable interest in her wishes. She recalled Lord Kemerton’s warning to stay away from Lord Oakley. It would no doubt gratify his towering conceit to know how profoundly she wished she had taken his advice.

“Of course you have—wake up, boy!” the earl snapped. “She has clearly somehow discovered her resemblance to my mother and used it, and you, to get herself in front of me , to—” He turned to look at Adelaide. “To what? What is it you want, exactly—money?”

Adelaide longed for some of the bravery that had emboldened her tongue for Lord Kemerton. All she could muster was the truth. “I should like to be permitted to leave, my lord.”

It silenced him, which surprised her. She had expected him to crow that he had uncovered her schemes and frightened her away, but he looked taken aback, unsure suddenly. Without his fierce glare, he was quite handsome, in a weathered, mature sort of way. She wondered whether that was what her father would have looked like, were he still alive. The thought made her even more melancholy, and she dipped her head to avoid having to look at him any longer.

Lord Oakley hastened to her side and crouched next to her chair. “Miss Booker—Adelaide, please accept my apologies. This is not at all the reception I envisaged for you. But I beg you would not go.”

“I have no desire to be where I am not wanted.” Not again. “I was a fool to allow you to convince me to come. I have gone along with it long enough. I should like to go.”

“Was it not your design to come here, madam?” Lord Tipton asked .

“No, it was mine!” his son replied impatiently. “Miss Booker was even harder to convince than you, but I persevered because…” In lieu of finishing his explanation, he gestured expressively at her, the turn of his countenance such as made it clear he thought his point obvious.

“She does have the family look about her,” Lady Tipton said cautiously.

“A look alone does not prove she is my brother’s child.”

“Then let us find proof!” Lord Oakley interjected, rising to his full height. “Have Bentley investigate it. Miss Booker’s family will be able to verify where and when they found her. Send him to talk to them.”

There was a hiatus, in which nobody spoke. Adelaide looked up when the rustle of skirts alerted her to Lady Tipton having risen from her chair. Her ladyship crossed the room, indicating with an extended hand for her son to remain where he was and a small inclination of her head for her husband to follow her. They left together through a different door to that through which Adelaide had come in; thus she knew not where they were going.

She expected that Lord Oakley would begin speaking to her as soon as they were gone, and was surprised when instead, he remained motionless, staring at the door. It soon became clear why: his parents had not gone far, and their conversation on the other side of it could just about be heard.

“Charles, I comprehend this is distressing, but we must not punish Miss Booker for what might be our oversight,” Lady Tipton was saying .

His lordship’s reply was easier to hear, for it was said with obvious displeasure. “Do not dare accuse me of overlooking my brother’s children! I am not my father. You know I would never abandon my family.”

“Nobody is accusing you of abandoning her.”

“But that is what it would mean. If I acknowledge that she is Robert’s, then I must also acknowledge that I left my brother’s infant child alone in the world. That is not something I am prepared to accept.”

Lord Oakley turned to grin expressively at Adelaide as though this were an encouraging remark. She was too overwhelmed to be able to construe why he should think so and could only manage a faint smile in return.

“It was not just you,” Lady Tipton said with a sort of insistence that was at once firm and kind. “I was there, too. And yes, if we did miss this eighteen years ago then it was, indeed, a lamentable oversight, but you know as well as I do, it was not by design. If, however, you send Miss Booker away today, and if she is Robert’s, then you will have abandoned her—and knowingly. Surely you see we must investigate the matter before we make a decision.”

“And if she is not his?” Lord Tipton demanded.

Adelaide’s stomach clenched, for that was the most likely outcome.

“Then we will help find her a new position somewhere and wish her well,” her ladyship replied. After a pause, she spoke again, but her voice was softer, and Adelaide was not sure she heard her properly when she said, “I know what you are thinking. ”

She was more certain of it when Lord Tipton replied petulantly, “No, you do not.”

“You think she is Robert’s.”

There was another, longer pause. Adelaide could see Lord Oakley was looking at her again, but she refused to meet his eye, too intent on listening to Lord Tipton’s reply.

“How could this have happened?” his lordship said at last. He sounded disgusted.

“I do not know,” Lady Tipton replied. “But it has, and we must deal with it.”

Deal with it, Adelaide thought. As one deals with a blocked gutter. She tried not to sigh too loudly at yet again finding herself somebody’s unwanted problem.

Lord Oakley ceased looking at her and returned his attention in full to the back of the door when Lord Tipton said, “It is more perilous than you realise. If we acknowledge her as Robert’s, people may begin to question Oakley’s parentage.”

“I do not see why. They do not look much alike. They could certainly pass as cousins.”

“Do you not think Oakley has enough to conceal as it is without adding the liability of a sister he can never acknowledge as his?”

Lord Oakley scoffed. “A trifling burden when it would mean I was protecting my sister!”

It was a generous sentiment, though his declaring it meant Adelaide missed whatever Lady Tipton said in response. All she heard was Lord Tipton asking, “And how would we navigate the small obstacle of her having been in service all her life? ”

“We need not tell anyone that part. We could simply say she has been living somewhere obscure in the country all these years.”

“You see?” Lord Oakley said triumphantly. “They are planning how to account for your presence in the family. I told you they would accept it.”

Adelaide was not convinced that a desire to minimise the degradation of being related to her could be counted as a success. She was also far from convinced that they had accepted anything. He must have seen her uncertainty, for he observably reined in his exuberance.

“This must be dreadfully bewildering for you. Is there anything I can do to make you feel more…” He gave a little chuckle. “I was going to say ‘at home’, but I suppose that is a little premature.”

That made Adelaide laugh ever so slightly, too. “Might I have something to drink?”

His face fell. “But of course! I beg you would forgive me for not offering you anything—what unpardonable rudeness. I shall have something sent up directly.”

“Do not ring that,” Lord Tipton said, returning to the room just as his son reached to pull the bell for someone to attend them. “I would speak to Miss Booker for a little longer without witnesses.”

“Father, she has not had anything to drink since we left Hertford this morning.”

“This will not take long, James,” Lady Tipton said, coming into the room behind her husband and returning to her previous seat. To Adelaide, she said, “If you would be so kind as to answer a few questions for his lordship, I shall see that you are provided with all the refreshments you require.”

Adelaide was hardly in a position to refuse, though she welcomed the warmth with which her ladyship made the request. That warmth was not emulated in Lord Tipton’s questions.

“Can you read?” he enquired tersely.

She baulked at his insolence and felt herself blush as she replied, “Yes, my lord.”

“Do arithmetic?”

“I can keep an account book, my lord.”

“Of course you can,” he said sardonically. “Obviously you do not speak any other languages. What about music? Do you play any instruments?”

She shook her head.

“Can you draw?”

“I do not know.”

“Do you know how to dance?” Lady Tipton enquired more gently.

“I am sure I could remember how, if I were shown the steps again.”

Lord Tipton shook his head. “She would need masters in everything from mathematics to manners.”

“Well, Charles, masters are not difficult to come by,” his wife coaxed.

Lord Tipton conceded the point with a grunt.

“You are beginning to believe it, are you not, Father?” Lord Oakley asked, his hopeful good humour returning.

“I shall concede to sending Bentley to look into it.”

Lord Oakley broke into a broad smile, and Lady Tipton looked very well pleased as she said, “In the meantime, Miss Booker, you are welcome to stay at Chiltern Court.”

“Am I?” Adelaide replied hesitantly, flicking a pointed glance at Lord Tipton.

“Most decidedly!” Lord Oakley replied. “And mark my words, there will be no ‘meantime’ about it. You are home at last, and I do not mean to see you abandoned again.”