Page 6 of The Major’s Mistake (Intrepid Heroines #7)

Four

S he put the note down and looked up over her spectacles at the tall liveried footman who stood rigidly in front of her desk. “You may tell His Lordship that I shall expect him at two o’clock.”

The man bowed and withdrew.

Lady Thornton regarded the bold script on the crested stationery.

The formal request to see her came as no great surprise, and, if truth be told, even though she sympathized with Miranda’s feelings, she found herself looking forward to the meeting.

A rather special bond had developed between herself and her nephew when he was at that awkward age between boy and man.

She and her husband had resided near Crestwood, and while the late Marquess and his Marchioness chose to ignore the existence of their firstborn in order to spend most of their time in Town, she did not.

The young man was soon running tame in her home, rather than sit in the splendid isolation of his family’s estate.

That he was lonely was clear. That he was a bright and sensitive lad was also more than apparent.

They shared countless hours discussing a broad range of topics.

He laughed at her interest in Scottish folk history, she teased him about his infatuation with snakes, and they seemed to take a great deal of pleasure from each other’s company.

When it was time for him to go down to Oxford, she felt almost as if she was parting from the son she never had.

Lady Thornton looked down again at the familiar handwriting.

How quickly things could change. Her husband was carried off by a bout of influenza and soon after, she announced that she was moving to the wilds of the Highlands to pursue her scholarly interests.

Her family had reacted with shocked disbelief—only the young Julian had encouraged her to follow her dreams.

She had seen a bit of him in London before departing for the north.

His studies finished, he had come to Town like all the other young men of the ton .

But even though he was still the same intelligent, perceptive young man she had grown close to, she had not liked the crowd he had taken up with.

It seemed to her they were a rather rackety bunch, with the leader the worst of the lot.

Several years older than the rest, he seemed to exercise an inordinate amount of influence over the others, encouraging more drinking and gambling and reckless behavior than was good for them.

The few hints of advice had been met with a stony face.

They were his friends, he had replied, and that was all there was to it.

And so, Lady Thornton mused, she had held her thoughts to herself after that.

He had had precious few friends growing up, so it was not to be wondered at that he should want to be part of a group.

Still, she worried, and hoped he would outgrow them.

When he started courting Lady Miranda Hotchkiss, she had breathed a sigh of relief.

Here was a young lady whose beauty was matched by her sharp mind and common sense.

The two of them had sensed a mutual rapport during the few times they met, and Lady Thornton had felt her nephew could not have made a wiser choice.

A tear came unbidden to her eye. If only she hadn’t been so far away when the trouble occurred. Perhaps things would have turned out differently if she had been there to offer some counsel.

Perhaps. But there was nothing to be done about the past. It was the present that she must address.

A discreet knock came at the door some time later, jarring her out of her reverie.

“Come in.”

The tousled white head of her longtime servant appeared through the crack. “His Lordship, the Marquess of Sterling to see you, my lady.”

“Have him come in, Wells.”

The tall, muscular man that stepped into the library bore only a passing resemblance to the untested youth she had last seen in London over seven years ago.

The hair was still the same raven color, the eyes still the same interesting hue between green and blue, but everything else was quite changed.

The planes of his features had become stronger, more angular—if anything it had made him even more handsome, for there was a certain strength that radiated from the face, rather than mere good looks.

The depth of his gaze also revealed someone who had seen more than a passing glance of the good and the evil in the world.

“Halloo, Aunt Sophia.”

“Halloo, Julian.”

He bent to bestow a light kiss on her cheek.

She continued to regard him in a long enough silence that his lips finally gave a twitch.

“Am I up for at auction at Tat’s?”

She made a show of adjusting her spectacles before finally speaking. “Well, it appears the army has done you some good—last time I saw you, I feared you were on your way to becoming a rather shallow prig.”

He let out a low chuckle. “I may have changed, but you, thankfully, have not.” There was a slight pause. “It is very good to see you.”

“And you, my dear.” Her brow furrowed in concern as he shifted his weight with an awkward shuffle. “Your leg?—”

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly. “Merely something that flares up from time to time.”

Lady Thornton gave a glimmer of a smile. “At my age, that is a condition with which I am all too familiar. Come then, let us sit by the fire.” She rose a bit stiffly and indicated the comfortable sofa facing two matching armchairs.

After exchanging further pleasantries, a bit of family gossip and the latest news from London, the conversation trailed off into an uneasy silence.

Julian looked around the room for a moment, taking in the stacks of books, the modest furniture, the polished mantel set with a collection of small tartan boxes, before bringing his gaze around to meet that of his aunt’s.

“I imagine you know why I am here,” he said softly.

She merely nodded.

He cleared his throat. “It appears that Justin is my son.” His inflection made it more of a question than a statement.

Lady Thornton’s expression didn’t change. “I believe Miranda answered that question.”

“Do you believe it true?”

Her chin rose. “I won’t even grace that question with an answer.”

Julian’s eyes dropped away in some embarrassment as he tugged at the corner of his waistcoat. “I had better become acquainted with the lad then, and make some plans for his future. He should?—”

“That shall be entirely up to Miranda,” she interrupted.

“What!” he exclaimed. “You cannot mean to oppose my right to my heir. Why, I have only to appeal to the courts to have the lad removed to my custody entirely?—”

Lady Thornton was on her feet in an instant.

“How dare you march into our home and threaten such a thing!” She was nearly shouting.

“No child could have a more loving and caring mother than Miranda has been to Justin. And you, who have known him not above ten minutes, have the arrogance to think you would provide him with a better upbringing?”

The marquess paled at the cold fury in her voice.

“What would you do?” she went on. “Ensconce him in the empty confines of Crestwood with some hired servant to look after him while you amuse yourself in Town with balls and other … entertainments?” she continued with scathing sarcasm. “A fine boyhood that would be, sir, as you can attest to.”

“I—”

“I haven’t finished yet,” snapped Lady Thornton, wagging a thin finger under his nose. “You will give me your word as a gentleman here and now that you will never attempt to take Justin away from his mother.”

Julian’s lips pressed together.

“In return, I will seek to convince Miranda that you should have the right to become acquainted with your son.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then we will return at once to Scotland, where as you well know, English courts have no jurisdiction. Think on it carefully, sir, if you wish to have any contact with Justin before he reaches manhood.” The sparks in her eye left little doubt as whether her threat was an idle one.

Julian’s jaw tightened and he looked away to stare into the fire. It seemed like an age before he gave her an answer.

“Very well,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You have my word.”

She nodded with grim satisfaction. “So I understand you to mean you will not seek to remove Justin from his mother, be it through the courts or other means?”

“Yes.”

Her breath came out in a long sigh. “Well, now that that is settled, I shall ask Miranda to come in so that we begin to work things out in a manner befitting rational adults.”

She rose and left Julian seething in self-righteous anger, returning a short time later with Miranda, who looked equally unhappy.

The marquess couldn’t help but notice that she refused to look at him as she walked stiffly to one of the wingchairs and took a seat.

Even on facing him, she kept her eyes averted, as if some detail of the old oriental carpet held a particular fascination.

“Miranda has agreed to discuss what arrangements might be acceptable,” began Lady Thornton.

A glance at the two young people showed only deep antagonism and mistrust etched on both their faces.

It was going to take all of her considerable skills to bring about any sort of mutual agreement.

With an inward sigh, she continued. “Have either of you a suggestion for how to proceed?”

Julian’s jaw tightened.

Miranda merely shook her head. “Perhaps you might have an idea,” she said, so softly that her aunt could barely hear.

Lady Thornton drew a deep breath, and replied, “I do.” She turned to her nephew. “Julian, do wish my opinion?”

He gave a curt nod.

“It seems to me that a fair way to begin would be to allow Julian to take Justin for an occasional afternoon each week while he is in residence here?—”

“I cannot agree to having Justin enter His Lordship’s home. It might cause undue comment, and I won’t have my son exposed to any hint of scandal,” protested Miranda.

“Then perhaps we could agree that Julian will take him, say, for a ride in the country. That surely can be explained by saying my nephew is simply being kind to a relative of mine.”

“I—I suppose that would be acceptable,” she murmured.

“I should like him three days—” countered Julian.

“One is quite?—”

“It is not necessary for either of you to shout,” broke in Lady Thornton. “Let us try to act as civilized adults.” Both of them looked rather shame-faced as she fixed them with a stern look. “Two days is reasonable,” she announced. “Shall we say, Monday and Thursday.”

Neither of them voiced an argument, though the tension in the air was growing more palpable with each passing moment.

“His lessons are not to be disrupted, so it must be after his luncheon—not before one o’clock. And he must be back for tea,” said Miranda. “Furthermore, His Lordship is on no account to tell Justin that he is his …” Her words faltered. “He’s too young to understand.”

Lady Thornton looked to her nephew, whose expression had turned unreadable. “Julian, I have to say that I agree with this. Your son’s well-being must come before all else.”

That Miranda’s wishes were entirely reasonable was beside the point. The events of the past few days had buffeted Julian’s emotions to the point where he was ready to lash out at any provocation.

It was that last straw that she had the gall to act angry with him! After all, it was he who was the injured party.

“Anything else?” he demanded with scathing politeness.

“Perhaps I might be permitted to buy my son some decent garments.” His eyes raked over Miranda’s worn gown and a sneer crossed his lips.

“What has happened to you, living up there in the wilds? You used to have impeccable taste—now you look … little better than a scullery maid.”

Miranda turned absolutely ashen.

Before she could answer the marquess’s cutting words, Lady Thornton quickly spoke up. “I believe we have finished discussing what concerns Justin, my dear. Pray, let me have a word in private with Julian.”

Miranda’s chin rose a fraction and she stood up and left the room with a quiet dignity that no rags could disguise.

Julian shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing that he had not shown to advantage. It was some moments before Lady Thornton spoke to him. This time, her tone was more one of sorrow than anger.

“Julian, have you any idea of what became of Miranda’s dowry when you divorced her?”

The question took him by total surprise. “Why, er …” His brows drew together. “No,” he admitted. “I never really thought on it. But what?—”

“It sits in your banker’s hands, along with the rest of your considerable wealth.”

He made to speak but she held up her hand. “Have you any idea what happened when she returned to her parents?”

He shook his head.

“They disowned her—threw her into the street,” she replied bluntly. “As her own husband had denounced her as little better than a whore, they refused to have anything to do with her, saying she had disgraced the family name and might as well be dead, for all they cared.”

Julian’s hand came up to rub at his temple.

“Aside from a small yearly income that came down to her through her grandmother—one, I might add, that would scarcely purchase a pair of those elegant York tan gloves you wear—she has nothing. I repeat, nothing . And every paltry farthing she receives, she spends on Justin.”

Lady Thornton folded her hands in her lap. “So whatever anger and resentment you still harbor should not be given voice in cruel sneers and petty taunts. I would have thought that the suffering and hardships you have seen in the course of war might have taught you to have a modicum of compassion.”

His eyes pressed shut. “I … never knew any of this.”

“There is a great deal you didn’t know,” she said softly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

When it became clear she didn’t mean to answer, he frowned slightly but went on. “Surely you know I never intended that she live in such poverty. I … I shall contact my man of affairs immediately and arrange for a generous sum to be put at her disposal.”

Lady Thornton shook her head sadly. “I’m not terribly plump in the pocket, my dear, but you certainly can’t think that I would willingly let Miranda want for anything. She will not accept any money or gifts of so-called luxuries from me. She most assuredly will not accept them from you.”

His mouth compressed in a tight line and he turned to stare at the flickering flames. “Why did you never write to me of—any of this?” he asked after some minutes.

“It was not my right to do so.”

There was another lengthy silence before he got to his feet and made his goodbye. “Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath as he started for the door, walking with slow, deliberate steps to conceal the worst of his limp.

“My sentiments exactly,” whispered Lady Thornton as the door fell shut.