Chapter 2

The Countess of Milbourne's residence was in Buckinghamshire, right on the outskirts of the city of London. Just enough out of the way to keep it secluded, yet only a short carriage ride into town for the various social engagements she had to attend. And Lady Milbourne attended a ridiculous number of them.

Not that Selina minded; it meant that while she was focusing on the estate she had been left with and coming out of her period of mourning, Lady Milbourne kept her up to date with the various gossip and rumors going around. Selina knew to take these lightly and not as gospel, but it didn't stop her giggling over the antics of other people. It was certainly entertaining.

She needed that most days. Uncle Christopher had been a good man and Selina had adored him. When her parents died, she was only four years old, and her uncle had taken her in and raised her as his ward. He had been very proud of her, and showed her that there was more to life than being a delicately refined lady.

He didn't mind that she was a bit of a tearaway when she was younger, or that she preferred to play with the boys than sit around playing tea parties with the girls. He encouraged her lessons, told her that it was good to have intelligence and a sharp mind, and didn't care that Selina had independent thoughts and could take care of things herself. If anything, that was what he wanted.

Selina had never understood why until he suddenly passed after suffering from gout for a long time. His health hadn't been good, but he always said that he was living life to the fullest. Six months on, and Selina hoped that she could do the same.

She had just needed to figure out how to navigate her inheritance, and know who she could have around her. It was surprising how many people came out of the woodwork to woo her, declaring that they had always admired her when they had ignored her before. Money made people do stupid things, and Selina wanted to be careful.

Her mother's childhood friend, Lady Milbourne, was very good at advising her whenever her uncle couldn't. And Selina was grateful for that. She liked knowing that someone like the countess was on her side.

As soon as she arrived, Selina was led into the morning room. Lady Milbourne was present, sitting at her writing desk, scribbling something, her pen darting across the paper. She looked up as Selina entered, and gave her a beaming smile.

"Selina, there you are."

"Forgive me for being a little late, My Lady." Selina curtsied. "Something came up at home."

"Oh, it's fine. I know you're reliable when it comes to turning up for things." The countess put her pen down and stood up, striding confidently across the room. "And you don't need to stand on ceremony with me, Selina. You know I'm always going to be Aunt Vivienne."

Selina smiled.

"It's a force of habit, I'm afraid. Now that I'm grown and we're going to be in public together once my mourning has properly ended, I don't want to be caught out being overly familiar."

Lady Milbourne laughed and kissed her cheek.

"You worry too much, dear. I don't mind, and I'm sure nobody's going to mind. Come and sit down. The tea was just brought through, so it will still be hot."

"Is Lord Milbourne not joining us?" Selina asked, taking a seat beside the older woman, as the countess began to pour out the tea.

"I'm afraid not. He had to head over to Birmingham regarding a business matter." Lady Milbourne sighed. "He seems to spend more time out and about than he does with me lately, but I guess I'm only noticing now that my children have left and are now married. You don't feel the loneliness until it actually happens."

Selina could understand. The Earl and Countess of Milbourne had four children, all a little older than Selina, and they had all married and were starting their own families. Both of her sons and one of her daughters lived close by, her other daughter living just north of America, in the Canadas, with her husband.

She was the most recent departure. It was no surprise that Lady Milbourne was feeling a little lonely now that everyone was starting their own families.

She was more than happy to accommodate and keep her mother's friend company. She enjoyed it.

"So," Lady Milbourne handed Selina a cup and picked up one herself, "you're going to be out of mourning in a couple of days. Have you decided what you're going to do? I presume you have a lot of invitations and social engagements to get through, and they're going to keep you busy."

"No more than the usual. I've got to head to my uncle's solicitor at some point. They keep sending me letters to come in and sign things, almost to the point I might as well move into their building, so I don't have to travel so much."

Lady Milbourne laughed.

"They're being silly, aren't they?"

"You could say that. I think I'm just going to tell them to bring the papers to the house, although I don't want to inconvenience anyone."

"You don't need to worry about that. You're incredibly wealthy now. It's up to you how you want to do things. They bow to you, not the other way around."

Selina didn't like the thought of that. Uncle Christopher had told her that she needed to remain humble when it came to money. She should not let it dictate anything except when it was absolutely necessary.

Selina had taken that to heart; she didn't want to be seen as someone who ordered people around because she was rich. It was still tough to come to terms with the fact that she had been given everything Uncle Christopher had with no one to be her guardian when it came to it. Her uncle trusted her to do it alone.

At the moment, Selina wasn't sure that she could trust herself. It was taking a while to come to terms with it.

"Anyway, they can wait for now. What I want to know is if you're going to come out into London for the many social engagements that are being held." Lady Milbourne sipped her tea, her eyes glinting. "I can let you know what there is if you haven't any invitations, so you can come along with me if you like."

Selina frowned.

"But I couldn't attend without my own invitations, can I?" she pointed out. "Especially in certain places where I definitely need a ticket or invitation to get in."

"You can come with me. The invitations are always addressed to me and my husband, so you can come in his place. Or I can ask for an invitation to be procured…"

"You don't need to worry about that. I don't know if I'd be comfortable throwing myself into it so soon out of mourning."

"I understand. But when you're ready." Lady Milbourne winked. "We can't have you alone forever now, can we?"

Selina's mouth fell open, and she almost spilled her tea.

"Aunt Vivienne!"

The countess laughed.

"Sounds like you're only happy to address me as that when you're in shock."

"Just because you're alone doesn't mean you should try and matchmake me with anyone."

"Who said I was going to matchmake you to anyone?"

"You are too obvious. I know you too well."

Lady Milbourne grinned and reached for one of the biscuits.

"Well, it wouldn't be too much, would it? Finding love. I know it's not at the top of your priorities, but it would be nice to have someone around, wouldn't you say?"

Selina didn't know what to say to that. This wasn't the first time since her friend had mentioned finding a husband, and she had hoped that it had stopped. Evidently not.

Much as she loved the other woman, Selina found herself wanting to leave as quickly as she arrived.

#

Durham

Peter thought that he was hearing things. He had to have become momentarily deaf. His father did not just tell him that he was illegitimate, did he? It was just a trick of his imagination.

But it wasn't. Deep in his gut, he knew that it was. Peter stared at Medford, who looked ashamed, his head bowed as he stared at his hands.

"I didn't want to tell you about it, but…" The duke went over to a chair across from Peter and sagged onto the cushion, still staring at his hands. He didn't look like the confident, self-assured man Peter had known in his youth. "This is something you should have known about years ago. It would have saved you some heartache, and maybe you would know why your… your mother… treated you so badly."

"I… I can't believe it." Peter shook his head, not wanting to believe it. "This can't be true! Are you saying that… I…"

Medford nodded. He still wouldn't look at his son. Peter really needed him to do that. Then the duke slumped back and closed his eyes. He looked exhausted.

"Imelda couldn't have children. We tried for years, and nothing. We got married when we were barely older than you, and for ten years there were no children. We accepted it, decided to make the most of our future, just the two of us. But then… then I fell in love… with someone else."

Peter didn't want to hear this. In the blink of an eye, his world had crashed down around him, and he had no idea how to react to it. It was scaring him that this was something he hadn't known all his life, and it was only coming out now. Why couldn't they have told him before?

It felt like he was always going to be the last to know everything.

"Who was it?" he asked tightly. "Who?"

"Her name was Tara. She arrived in the kitchens, a cousin of one of the upstairs maids. She was looking for work, and Imelda said that she could work for us. As soon as I saw her, I was smitten." Medford winced. "I still loved Imelda, don't forget that, but there was something about Tara that I couldn't let go of. I found myself wanting to explore, wanting to be with her. And I… I gave into temptation."

Peter felt nauseous. He remembered when he was young wondering why there was a tension between his parents. He had thought it was because they were made to marry each other and they didn't like the other person, but it had been clear that Medford loved his wife. It was Imelda who made the tension clear. And it was because of this? She hated him because he had an affair and had a child?

"We kept it secret for a couple of months, and then Imelda caught us in my bed. She was furious and demanded that Tara be sent away. I agreed, not wanting her to feel my wife's wrath, and had my valet Winters keep me up to date on her. Not long after, Winters told me that Tara was with child, and she was scared. She couldn't do this."

"And did M—" Peter swallowed. "Was Imelda aware of this?"

Medford flinched.

"She was. I was open about it. She was even more furious about it, but after a while she calmed down and said that she would help."

"She helped?"

"I wasn't expecting that. I conceived a child with a lover, and I was expecting her to throw a fit about it. But Imelda said it wasn't the child's fault, that it shouldn't have to suffer for what we did." The duke rested his head back against the chair. He seemed to age as Peter watched him. "She did have a few conditions, though.

She would help provide the best care before and during the birth, but once the baby was born, Tara was going to be sent away. Imelda would make sure that she had a stable occupation, and she wouldn't have to worry about anything, providing that we never made contact again. She would make Tara's life miserable if she found out that we had exchanged letters. Tara agreed to that, and I had to as well."

"What about me?"

"That was the other condition. You were to be raised with us."

"What?"

Medford nodded.

"Imelda was desperate for a child. She said that this was her only way to have a baby of her own. If it didn't happen, then she would not help at all. She was steadfast on it. So we agreed. Tara gave birth to you, Imelda let her have a cuddle, and then she left with you." His voice broke a little. "Tara never saw you again."

Peter felt like someone had thrown a bucket of water over him. How had this happened? How could he have gone from being the son of a duke to a bastard so quickly? His head was spinning, and his stomach lurched. He gripped onto the arms of his chair.

"So I was raised by you and your wife," he said tightly. "But your wife…" It felt so strange calling her that after knowing her as his mother. "She never… she barely treated me…"

"We realized that mistake too late. Even though she was desperate to be a mother, Imelda couldn't get past the fact that you were not hers. She really tried to bond, to remember that it was not your fault in all of this, but she couldn't. Eventually, she just gave up. She couldn't bear to look at you."

Peter knew about that; he had witnessed it many times. At least things made sense now, although he couldn't forgive the woman he knew as mother for treating him in such a manner. It was a miracle that he hadn't been thrown out and put in an orphanage somewhere, or sent away to stay with relatives. He was always kept at home, raised, and taught under the same roof. Lady Medford must have hated that after demanding her conditions.

He could understand her pain and hatred now. It didn't justify anything, but he understood. If only he could tell that to her now.

"I can only apologize immensely for what we did to you, Peter." Medford sounded close to tears. "You were an innocent in all of this. You didn't deserve to be raised in this way, but we thought it would be for the best. We thought we were doing the right thing."

"Why are you telling me this now, Father?" Peter wished that he could keep the tears out of his voice. He hadn't realized that he was close to crying himself. "You never told me while I was growing up, nor told me the truth when your wife died. If something hadn't happened, you wouldn't be telling me this now, would you?"

The duke didn't answer, but that hesitation was enough. He would have kept it quiet for the rest of his life. Would he have told Peter on his deathbed? Probably not. Peter wanted to scream, to hit something.

What had happened that he needed to tell his son the truth?

"Don't lie to me anymore, Father. Tell me why now."

"It's about your cousin, Cedric."

"Cedric? What's he got to do with anything?"

Medford swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them, sorrow in his expression.

"I suspect that he's found out about the fact you're not a legitimate child of mine."

Peter frowned.

"How?"

"I don't know. I didn't care to ask. But from the way he's been talking to me lately, I suspect that he knows more than he's letting on. That he knows that you're a bastard." Medford kept his gaze on Peter. "Which means that your position as heir is under threat."

Peter understood that all too well. He was perfectly aware that a bastard could not inherit anything from their parents, especially if they hadn't been legitimized. Seeing as he was only finding out now, there was a good chance that nobody had bothered to make him legitimate. It was a secret they had hoped would be swept under the rug.

Not anymore. If Cedric knew, he would be able to challenge the line of inheritance. He was a slippery one who cared more about money and prestige than anything else, and he made no attempt to hide it.

The relationship between him and Peter had never been good. If Cedric was somehow able to prove that Peter was not legitimate, then he could have all of his inheritance stripped away and given to him instead. Medford might protest, but he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Not if he had already passed on, anyway. Peter wouldn't be surprised if Cedric waited until his father was dead before making a move. Until then, he would be waiting and breathing down their necks.

This was too much to take in. Peter couldn't sit there any longer. The walls felt like they were closing in on him, and he couldn't breathe. He had to get out of there.

Staggering as he got to his feet, Peter made his way to the door. The room was tilting, but he managed to stay on his feet.

"Peter? Where are you going?"

Peter ignored his father, flinging open the door and clinging onto the frame as he stumbled through. He didn't know what to say to his father. Was there anything that he could say that would make things better? Then again, what could anyone say when they found out that they were not someone's child? How could anyone justify not saying a word about it?

Peter managed to get out into the gardens before his legs gave out on him. The world spun so much that he could do nothing but lie there, staring at the sky. Everything he knew had been a lie. He had been kept in the dark for so long that he didn't know what was real anymore.

When the tears finally started coming, he couldn't stop them. Curling into a ball on his side, Peter buried his face in his hands and sobbed.