Chapter Twenty-Nine A Truth Made Evident

An hour later, at Fenwick House

Michael and Amelia rode to Fenwick House in the town coach, and the marquess immediately sent it back to Weston Hall to retrieve Philip. Although he had invited Helena to join them, he knew she already had plans to pay a call at Reading House that afternoon.

He hoped the negotiations between his son and the duke hadn't hit any snags and that Weston hadn't changed his mind about allowing Amelia to marry Philip.

As for Amelia's claim her brother wished to court Violet, he wasn't sure what to think.

Only a few days ago, the general consensus about Alfred, Duke of Weston, was that no one liked him due to his pompous manner.

Apparently something had changed.

"Browning, have my daughter join us in the library, and bring tea." Given the study was Philip's domain these days, he decided to meet in the library for the relative privacy it offered from eavesdropping servants.

"Yes, my lord," the butler said before hurrying off.

"Would you like me to wait in the front salon whilst you speak with her?" Amelia asked.

"Oh, no, young lady," he replied, waving her to the stairs. "I think it may take the both of us to determine my daughter's thoughts on the matter of your brother."

"Until this morning, I was of the opinion she needn't sacrifice herself on my account," Amelia murmured as they climbed to the first floor. "All this time, I've only thought she was play acting."

Michael paused on the landing. "What happened this morning?"

She gave him a beseeching glance. "My brother told me over breakfast that he had developed a tendré for Lady Violet. That if I wanted to marry the man of my choosing, I would have to help him gain Violet's hand in marriage."

Michael glanced over to see her expression of pain. "I take it you accepted the bargain?"

"I didn't want to, and I didn't know what to say, especially after Alfred told me they had gone riding together in the park—"

"What's this?" Michael asked, stepping aside so she could enter the library first. The thick Aubusson carpeting covering the floor seemed to swallow their words and the sound of their footsteps.

"I was as surprised as you," she said. "She didn't say a word about it to me. But she did spend an inordinate amount of time with him at the Everly soirée a few nights ago, and they danced the first waltz last night."

His thoughts going to the Reading House gardens, Michael remembered how his attention had been entirely on Helena. But there had been a couple kissing only a moment before he proposed marriage. "I may have seen them in the gardens," he murmured, his attention on the fireplace. No fire had been set, but the room was warm enough given the sunshine that streamed in from the two windows. "But I had no idea of his regard for her," he added before he inhaled softly. "Perhaps Aunt Katherine knew," he suggested.

Amelia shook her head. "She probably wouldn't have allowed it, sir. She's not at all fond of Weston. Very few are since his return from his Grand Tour."

Michael chuckled as he motioned for her to take a seat in one of the upholstered chairs near the fireplace. "Perhaps he will be a different person after all this," he mused, his attention going to the door. "Ah, here she is," he added, waving for Violet to join them.

"Is everything all right?" Violet asked, her eyes rounding at seeing Amelia. "Oh, dear. What's happened?"

"I bring good news," Amelia said with a brilliant smile. She quickly sobered upon hearing the marquess clearing his throat. "And not so good news."

Violet's gaze darted between the two of them. "Weston gave his permission for you to wed Philip," she stated, her face lighting up with her delight.

"Indeed," Amelia said. "You don't seemed surprised."

"I am not," Violet replied with a shrug. After their discussion in the gardens the night before, she was sure Alfred had changed his opinion of Philip. "So... what's the bad news?"

Michael indicated she should take a seat as Browning entered with the tea tray. "Will you see to serving first?" he asked. "Might make the news a little less bad."

"Of course," Violet replied, leaning forward to prepare the cups. Once the butler had taken his leave, she said, "Now, what's this about bad news?" She handed Amelia a cup of tea and turned to prepare one for her father.

"Has the Duke of Weston been courting you?" Michael asked.

Having taken a sip of tea, Amelia choked and sputtered at hearing his direct query while Violet almost poured too much tea in his cup.

"Apologies. I find it's better not to beat around the bush," he said.

"It's fine, my lord," Amelia replied, lifting a napkin to her lips.

Violet handed him his cup and saucer, but didn't move to make one for herself. "I wouldn't say courting exactly," she finally said. "Although he has put voice to words suggesting he would like to. Last night. During the ball."

Michael and Amelia exchanged quick glances. "Oh?"

She nodded. "Did you know that until last night, he harbored the idea that you were his father?"

Michael noted Amelia's expression of surprise at hearing Violet's query before his gaze settled on his daughter. "Philip may have mentioned it several years ago. After he completed university. Weston is not my son, though, if that's what you're asking."

"I told him he couldn't be," she stated. "I explained you had never returned to London after you left. I recalled the dates of your marriage and that of Philip's birth."

"In other words, you did the math?" he suggested.

Her gaze darted to Amelia. "I did. Was I wrong?"

He shook his head. "Of course not. Perhaps hearing it from Philip wasn't enough. Perhaps your explanation was more... acceptable. More convincing."

"Well, I didn't punch him, if that's what you're implying," she said.

He chuckled as he leaned forward and set his cup and saucer on the low table. "He could have simply referenced a copy of Debrett's," he murmured.

"Actually, he said he did," Violet said in a meek voice. "Despite never having met you, he really wanted to be your son."

Amelia inhaled softly, and Michael straightened in his chair. "Why do you suppose that was?"

Her attention on her tea, Amelia said, "If you had been our father instead Harcourt Sheppard, you wouldn't be asking that question," she claimed.

"Amelia," Violet scolded softly.

"Everyone thinks my brother is a pompous, arrogant... arse, excuse my French—"

"You're excused," Michael murmured.

"—but he's a fraction of how arrogant Father could be. He probably learned it from his father, but he truly believed he would live forever. That he was entitled to it. That it was his birthright," she explained. "Had he lived five-hundred years ago, he would have declared himself king of... of whatever England was back then," she stammered. "But Alfred... he didn't use to be like that. Not until he went to university. Ever since his return from his Grand Tour, he's been behaving as if he has to live up to the expectation that he is his father's son," she continued. "He's not like that with me, though," she added. "At least, not usually."

"What do you mean?" Violet asked.

"He's rather pleasant, really. We talk easily. He finally hired a secretary to help with all the papers. But he knows he needs a helpmate, too, and I do believe once he has a wife, he won't be so prone to arrogance."

Michael sighed. "So... when he comes asking permission to court you, Violet, what shall I say?" he asked, his attention on his daughter.

Violet allowed an exaggerated sigh. "He won't," she replied.

"Why ever not? You think he's so arrogant he won't think it necessary to ask me?" he asked in alarm.

"He won't because he doesn't know you're my father."

"What?" Michael was halfway out of his chair before he scoffed and settled back into it. "How can that be?"

Amelia gasped as her attention darted about the room. "Oh, dear. This is all my fault," she said as her eyes widened. "I've never introduced you to him," she said softly. "I mean, I did, but not properly."

"No one has," Violet said.

"However, I have mentioned to him that Duchess Katherine was your aunt," Amelia claimed.

"You were never properly introduced?" her father repeated slowly. "By anyone else?"

"No," she affirmed, giving Amelia a brief glance.

"He never asked to be introduced to you," Amelia said in her own defense. "And I certainly wasn't going to subject you to him if he couldn't behave civilly towards you."

"And I appreciated that," Violet said with a watery grin.

When he noticed Violet's lower lip began trembling, Michael furrowed a brow. "What is it?"

Violet blinked back tears. "When he learns I am Philip's sister... I think he shall be very angry with me." She turned to Amelia. "And with you. He'll think we were keeping it from him... playing him... deliberately. That I was trying to bamboozle him so he would agree to allow Philip to marry you." She paused and let out a ‘huff' as she settled back in her chair. "Which I was." This last was said in a whisper.

Michael angled his head to one side. "So... you don't wish to be courted by him?"

Rolling her eyes, Violet sighed as tears streamed down her face. "But I think I do," she whimpered.

Amelia inhaled sharply. "Oh! Then it's all set. Surely he'll overlook your relationship to Philip, and it will all be fine," she gushed. "You'll be my sister!"

Clearing his throat, Michael turned to Violet and said, "I might be tempted to encourage you to continue your Season in the hopes that some other young man would discover how perfect you would be as his wife, but..." He winced. "If he is who you wish to be courted by, then I will of course allow it. You would be a duchess." He arched a brow. "In all honesty, I have a stake in this, too."

Violet furrowed a blonde brow. "What sort of stake?"

"I proposed marriage to Helena last night," he replied. "Again."

Violet sat up, excitement showing on her face.

"And?" she prompted.

"She's given me a provisional yes," he hedged.

"Provisional?" Amelia repeated.

He turned his attention on Amelia. "Your mother won't marry me until you and your brother are settled."

"Oh, dear," Violet murmured softly.

Amelia shook her head. "This will all be fine," she said with a wave of her hand. She took a breath and let it out in a ‘whoosh'.

"How can you say that?" Violet asked in dismay.

"If we must, Philip and I can always elope in Scotland. But if Alfred is the least bit wise, he'll realize he should have asked that you be properly introduced to him. It will be his loss if he plays the fool and doesn't realize you are the perfect duchess for him," she reasoned.

Violet and her father exchanged quick glances.

"So... who's going to introduce us?"

Amelia brightened. "I am," she said. She stood, which had Michael struggling to come to his feet. "Right now."

Violet reluctantly stood and shook out her skirts. "How about in an hour? I'll need a few minutes to change my gown," she said. "And we'll need a means of transportation."

"Take your time. I'll order the other coach be made ready," Michael said. "Since Philip hasn't yet returned from Weston Hall."

Amelia dipped a curtsy when Michael bowed and left the library. She turned to Violet and took her hand in hers. "Come along. Let us see what we can find to make you even more irresistible," she said. "Alfred won't know what's what, and you'll have him eating out of your hand in no time."

Violet rolled her eyes but followed her best friend out of the library.

A half-hour later, they were in the Fenwick traveling coach and on their way to Weston Hall.