Chapter 30
THIRTY
E veryone else saw it happen on TV. Maybe through one of the many tabloids. It was like something out of Clue (The butler did it! By kidnapping the duke’s daughter with a gun!). One of Xavier’s actual mothers-in-law, a supposedly loyal staff member, plus a crooked brother committing a heinous crime in a twisted act of love and greed. There were photos of the three of them being cuffed and led from the Croydon flat by the police. Other pictures of Georgina being escorted into another police car from Parkvale House, Frederick looming behind her with a bemused expression.
We didn’t read any of the headlines. I would remember my mother’s cries for mercy for the rest of my life, just as I would remember ignoring them. Apparently, I had finally found my line. Xavier and I had both discovered when enough was enough—it was when you hurt our kids. When you messed with our family.
In light of the arrest of Georgina Parker and her sister, Caroline Klein, for harassment along with a surprising charge of conspiracy to kidnap a minor (according to Bledsoe’s brother’s confession, both women had been tacitly encouraging the butler’s ideas on the matter for weeks), the House of Lords had canceled Xavier’s hearing and had thrown out the entire question of his legitimacy, given that any evidence submitted by the dowager duchess was fully compromised in light of her designs against the duke.
Photographers were camped out in front of Mayfair for several days while we treated the flat like our own private bunker, recovering just the three of us in warmth and privacy. After they were reassured of Sofia’s safety, my family shockingly left us alone, and Xavier’s staff seemed to understand the need for space as well.
This world, composed of the three soon-to-be four of us, suddenly seemed so precious. And so we revisited the tentative home the three of us had made together earlier that year. A place that wasn’t steeped in a thousand-year lineage or a shabby little house my brother had given me out of a sense of charity, but a home, luxurious as it was, that had been completely redesigned around our needs, even if for a short time.
Xavier cooked for us each night. I read in the evenings from The Secret Garden and basked in the delicious sound of Xavier’s rare, full-throated laughter when he heard my horrible Yorkshire accent. Sofia drew pictures of unicorns, slept in her Moana -inspired bedroom, and received more hugs than she knew what to do with. Xavier and I visited the rooftop onsen more than once while our daughter slumbered (well, he got in while I dangled my feet, dreaming of when being pregnant would no longer keep me from a nice long soak). We made love next to the steamy waters and afterward whispered about futures together we’d barely hoped for in the past.
Places we’d like to visit. Dates we’d like to have. Names of our future child.
There was something about the peace that felt, if not permanent, more solid than before. As though our little trio knew we’d been through just about everything together and could survive anything else.
Including a visit from Lord Ortham nearly a week after Sofia’s rescue.
“I’d say I can’t believe it, but I was there,” he said cheerfully after accepting a nightcap from Xavier’s private store. “When she told me what she was planning for the committee, at least, I thought even that was ridiculous. But I never imagined a duchess would be taken away by the police on charges of kidnapping, of all things.”
Sofia had gone to sleep long ago, and Xavier and I had just been considering going to “sleep” ourselves while a storm rolled in from the north. My husband had been pouring himself a glass of water when the concierge called up to announce Lord Ortham.
Now, we all sat in the living room around the fire crackling in the enormous grate—me curled up into Xavier’s warm body on the sofa, Lord Ortham swishing his glass of port appreciatively from one of the oversized armchairs.
“And might I take the moment to offer you both my sincerest congratulations and best wishes on your marriage,” he added after a healthy drink. “Not surprised you didn’t want the fuss of St. Paul’s. Bunch of pomp and circumstance, that. Better to keep it quiet in the family. Though I should have liked to have been there. Stand in for your father and uncle, you know.”
I smiled at his genuine warmth. “Thank you.”
To my surprise, I found I quite liked the viscount. We had barely interacted all summer, and most of my impressions of his family were linked to his stuffy wife and insufferable daughter. Alone, however, he wasn’t stifled by their sense of propriety. Between his horsey laugh, obsession with inane historical details, and blunt sense of humor, he was almost down to earth, like an uncle I’d never had.
“I am leaving for Kendal in the morning. But I realized I couldn’t go without saying something.” His speech was suddenly a bit awkward as he set his glass on the coffee table. “Once I discovered what Imogene had done—” He broke off, shaking his head with obvious shame. “Appalling. Just appalling. Xavier, I really am so sorry.”
“It’s all right, Bernard,” Xavier said as he stroked my shoulder. “It’s in the past.”
“No, no, it’s not,” he said. “For my own child to act with such impropriety—as if she had any right to you in any way, when you have a family of your own, for God’s sake—horrible, just horrible. The strain it has put on our families’ long friendship…”
Xavier just remained quiet as he sipped his water, while I glanced between them, somewhat confused. I understood some of this, of course. Various Orthams showed up in the Kendal journals for around two hundred years, which I gathered was about the age of the title. But Lord Ortham spoke with a lot more feeling than a simple neighbor and fellow peer.
“Rupert’s death…and now Henry’s…” The viscount shook his head again. “We’re not supposed to show it, but it really was quite hard. We all grew up together as boys, you see. They were…family to me. And so were you, Xavier. Especially to my Lucy. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that.”
Xavier stared at the man for a long time, blue eyes icy and opaque. But his hand braced on my arm told me that he was feeling more with the man’s words than he wanted to show. Only he and Lucy would ever know how and why the unlikely bond had formed between them, but I knew him well enough to see that part of it had been from common grounds of isolation and loneliness. One of many family members he’d lost too young.
Hearing her father acknowledge it must have stirred something deep within him.
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. What was it with British men and emotions? They were even worse than the men back home.
“That’s a very kind thing to say, Lord Ortham,” I said when it was clear that Xavier was too overwhelmed to speak. “I know we both appreciate it.”
Xavier cleared his throat. “Er—yes. I do.” He blinked. “And for what it’s worth, Bernard, I…considered Lucy like a sister as well. I’m sorry things never worked between Imogene and me, but you understand…”
“Of course.” Lord Ortham offered me a friendly nod. “The matchmaking was more my dear wife’s endeavor. And Henry’s, of course. He was so very determined to strengthen your legacy after you were named heir. More than Rupert, even. Rather like a dog with a bone.”
I frowned. “Why was he so intense about it, do you think?”
Lord Ortham just shrugged. “God knows. Henry always was a bit more intense than Rupert. Quiet, but he loved Kendal. We always joked that he should have been the older brother. He was more suited to being a duke than Rupert ever was.”
The viscount chuckled fondly, like he’d made his own private joke with the two men no longer living.
Xavier grunted, but I could tell he sort of agreed. He always had gotten along better with Henry, who had served as his keeper for so many years. He never said it, but I could tell he missed his uncle dearly. I hoped one day he would find the space to grieve him properly.
“You do look a great deal like him, you know,” Ortham remarked, though he had started swirling his drink again, lost in some memory. “I doubt you hear it often, since you’ve the coloring and that hair from your mother. But it’s in your shape. The shoulders, the way you hold yourself. And those eyes. There were times this year when I thought Rupert himself was looking at me.”
Xavier nodded. “I remember. Henry’s were the same color, too.”
Ortham smiled wistfully to himself while he sloshed the remains of his port. Then he tipped it back and sat up straighter. “Well, with the absurd question of your legitimacy removed, I sincerely hope this means we’ll be seeing you up at Kendal more often. I’m looking forward to when you put your mark on the place.”
Xavier cast me a covert glance, then turned back to Lord Ortham. “Ah, well, that likely won’t be anytime soon, I’m afraid.”
“Planning to move the seat?” Ortham sniffed at the idea. “To London? Or will it be York? That would be a renegade move, to be sure. Hasn’t been done since, what, 1645?”
I smiled. It was cute, actually, that he knew the history of the dukedom since well before his family had ever occupied the area.
Xavier simply made a noncommittal noise that I recognized as him having absolutely no clue and not wanting to admit it. His hand squeezed my shoulder again with some unknown message while he gazed at my belly.
“Actually, no,” he said. “Makes sense for the Kendal seat to remain in Kendal. I just won’t be sitting in it, so to speak. Ces and I will go back to New York for the time being.”
Ortham blinked as though he hadn’t heard correctly. Then, like any well-trained gentleman, he quickly schooled his features into something more nonplussed. “I see. Well, we shall miss you.”
He then picked up a small paper bag he had brought with him and set it on the table. “I see now why Gibson requested that I bring these. He must have known you weren’t to return any time soon.”
Xavier picked up the bag, peeked inside, then handed it to me. I pulled out two more identical journals, which, upon flipping them open, I recognized as written in Henry’s looping hand.
“What are they?” Ortham asked. “I’d never snoop, you know, desperate as I might be.”
I looked up. “Oh, they’re just Henry’s steward journals about the estate. Mostly details about livestock and accounting and stuff like that. I’m planning a research project about them when I return to school.”
“Ah, yes. I was told you are making a study of Kendal and its history, my dear,” Ortham said with approval. “Gibson is quite proud of you, you know.”
I smiled, imagining the stuffy old butler with his deep and abiding pride of Kendal—proud of the uncouth American he’d lectured on my first day there.
“Where did he find these?” I asked. “I went over the entire library making sure I hadn’t missed any. Xavier said he checked Henry’s room and the office too.”
“Henry knew all the best hiding spots,” Ortham said. “He loved a good mystery. He wouldn’t have shown any of us, so Gibson probably found them whilst cleaning or something of the sort.”
I smiled and set the books aside. “Thank you so much. I can’t wait to dive in.”
“Xavier, if you don’t mind me asking, who will oversee things in your stead?” Ortham wondered.
Xavier glanced quickly at me. I nodded.
“Well, it’s something I wanted to ask you,” Xavier said as he sat forward. “I can handle the financial reports from wherever I am, but I’ll need to hire a steward for the actual estate. And have, er, someone I can trust to make sure the steward’s doing right by the land and our businesses around there.”
Ortham was suddenly quiet. I recognized the game—he was like a woman waiting for a man to pop the question. Waiting out hypotheticals until the proposal was properly on the table.
“Would you consider it, Lord Ortham?” Xavier asked finally. “You know the estate and the land better than anyone else. You’d receive a share of the profits, of course, and I honestly can’t ask anyone else to do it. Not even Frederick. Not after what’s happened.”
I recognized courtesy in the use of the title. This was a job for Lord Ortham, not just Bernard Douglas.
Lord Ortham was quiet for a moment, and then a smile, deep and genuine, spread across his kindly face.
“Why, Your Grace,” he said softly, almost reverently. “Xavier. I would be honored. I shall do my very best to guard and protect what is yours until you come back to claim it.”