Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Better and better," Lady Evangeline breathed.

The Duke finally found his voice. "This is your…son?"

Lena placed a protective hand on the boy's shoulder. "Yes. This is Hector." She nodded at the boy with the spectacles. "Achilles. Then Theseus and Harmonia."

"The whole Greek pantheon," the Duke murmured. "And you, of course, are the beautiful Helena. How could it be otherwise?"

Lena blushed.

Turning to the boy, the Duke asked with a strained voice, "Hector, how old are you?"

Hector returned his regard with steady curiosity. "Almost eight, sir."

"Eight." The Duke closed his eyes as if in pain. "Of course you are."

"Julius," Lady Evangeline whispered, her face as pale as his. "He's your mirror image. "

There was a beat of charged silence. Then pandemonium ensued. Theo, the eldest, was the most vocal. "What is this? What's happening, Mama? Who are these people?"

"What did she just say? My English isn't that good," Les complained.

"This lady says," Mona pointed at Lady Evangeline, "that Hecki looks like him." Her finger moved to the Duke.

The Duke's knees finally buckled and he collapsed into a chair. "And the other three?" he asked with difficulty. "Are they yours, too?"

"Of course," Lena replied. "They are my stepchildren, but they are like my own flesh and blood."

"Stepchildren." The Duke, an eloquent diplomat and feared opponent in the English parliament, visibly struggled to find his next words. "You have a husband?"

"Er, no. Simon Arenheim was a widower. I took on the role of the children's mother, but we were not in a relationship. To keep people from talking, Simon suggested I take on the family name."

The relief that washed over his face was unmistakable. "And how exactly did you end up in this family?" he pressed.

"Begging your pardon, sir," Theo interrupted with a scowl. "But who are you?"

Mr Mortimer introduced them.

Theo's eyes widened. "You mean he's a real English Duke?"

"Indeed, he is," Mortimer confirmed.

" Famos ," the two boys said in unison.

Theo scratched the back of his head. "And, for some obscure reason, I seem to understand that you're saying Mama's your wife and Hecki's your son? Or is my English so bad that I completely misunderstood?"

"You understood correctly." The Duke nodded curtly.

"What makes you so certain that she is your wife?" Theo pressed.

"We were about to investigate the matter when you burst into the room," the Duke replied.

"That is correct," Mr Mortimer pushed his spectacles up his nose. "We were about to examine the evidence, such as the uncannily similar appearance, the birthmark, and the gestures that are identical to those of Her Grace, as well as the fact that there are three of us to confirm it. We were about to discuss the most puzzling discovery that Her Gr—I mean, Frau Arenheim"—he stumbled over the name—"does not seem to remember anything. Not even us."

"There is one more thing," the Duke said with a frown. "Another birthmark." He turned to Lena. "You have another birthmark, don't you?" His gaze bored into hers.

She could deny it and end it all with a simple lie. Her life would go on as it did before. She could continue living with her children as she did before, simple and carefree, contained in a bubble of happy, blissful ignorance. Not caring, not knowing about what had happened in the past. She did not need to know. She didn't want to know. She just wanted to live and enjoy life. Here in Vienna. With her children. Without change. Ever.

She ran her tongue over her dry bottom lip.

"Don't you?" he repeated, his voice almost gentle.

She opened her mouth to deny it.

And she knew instantly, with a miserable punch to her stomach, that she couldn't lie.

She gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Lady Evangeline squealed. The children jumped and talked at the same time.

The Duke's expression was completely indecipherable.

"Where?" Theo shouted.

The Duke raised a pale hand and silence fell immediately. "Evie, go with Cath—I mean, Frau Arenheim to another room and let her show you the birthmark. You must see it with your own eyes. Then return to tell us where it is. I will confirm or deny whether it is identical to Catherine's."

"That's a fabulous idea." Lady Evangeline grabbed Lena's hand and pulled her out of the room. "Let's go."

Lena lifted her dress along with her shift and showed it to Lady Evangeline. Her other birthmark was on her stomach. It was a flat, brown, perfectly round disc the same size as her navel.

She tried to downplay its significance. "Of course, people have all sorts of birthmarks on their bodies, so who's to say this is the ultimate proof that I'm the lost duchess? "

Lady Evangeline leaned over to examine it closely. "Certainly, I too have birthmarks, one on my left shoulder and one on my hip. The one on my hip has the shape of England. However, that's beside the point. The point is that Julius knows it's there." She smirked. "I dare say only the most devoted husband would remember the exact location of his wife's birthmark after eight long years. Especially—" she glanced at Lena's stomach "—when it is in a location as intimate as this."

A fiery heat rushed into Lena's cheeks. She didn't want to think about how the Duke knew the birthmark was there. She refused to think about it. Just as she'd refused to think about so many other things the past eight years…

"Do you really not remember anything at all?" Lady Evangeline's voice was pleading. "We spent much time together at Aldingbourne Hall. You were the perfect duchess. I daresay you were happily married, Julius and you. At least you seemed to be, in my eyes."

Once again, wisps of something drifted up into her consciousness. A throbbing pain shot through her head like lightning. She winced and lifted her hand to shield her eyes.

"I—I really don't know."

Lady Evangeline looked at her for a moment in silence, then sighed and nodded. "Very well. Let us return."

They returned to the parlour, where the Duke was pacing in front of the fireplace. The children watched him in silence, following his every move. Les and Hecki sat cross-legged on the floor, Theo in a chair, and Mona in the armchair. Mr Mortimer looked up in obvious relief when they entered.

The Duke stopped pacing. "You saw it?"

"Yes." Lady Evangeline nodded. "It's circular, about this big," she indicated it with her fingers, "and located?—"

"Just above her navel," the Duke said in unison with her.

"Thank the heavens," Mr Mortimer breathed. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. "I thought I would not survive the suspense. It is now officially established that you are Her Grace, Catherine Stafford-Hill, the Duchess of Aldingbourne." He made a formal bow.

The Duke, pale but with a determined set of his jaw, made a movement as if to reach out to her, but withdrew and clasped his hands behind his back. He rocked on his heels; his eyes boring into hers as he gave a curt nod. "Yes." That was all he said.

"Now what?" Theo asked, looking from one to the other. "I have so many questions." He spoke for all of them.

Now what, indeed?

A sick feeling churned in her stomach as it dawned on her that there really was no point in denying it any longer. She had to face the truth. She finally had to face her past.

Hecki jumped up, looking around wildly. "What does that mean?"

All eyes were on them, on Hector. The other matter that required resolution. Lena drew Hector into her arms protectively .

"I am not certain," she whispered into his hair. She had to protect this child at all costs. Her head started to pound and she felt weary, so weary.

Mr Mortimer cleared his throat. "Regarding the child's paternity—" He interrupted himself. "Perhaps it would be more appropriate to discuss this without the children present?"

Hector pulled away from Lena and glared at him. "I'm not leaving."

"I'm staying put, too." Les crossed his arms. "Hecki is my brother and needs my support."

"Nobody's going anywhere, Mr Mortimer." Theo placed a protective arm over both Hector and Lena. "We're a family. We remain together."

"Yes." Lena nodded. "We remain together."

"I refuse to skirt around the matter." The Duke's eyes never left the boy. "Let the children stay. Although, the question must be asked. Who is this boy's father?" His voice was heavy.

His question was met with silence.

"Well?" His voice was sharp.

"Simon Arenheim was his father, of course," Lena said helplessly. Simon was there when Hector was born. Simon had helped raise him. Simon had always been there for Hector. He was his father.

Hector clenched his hands. "Simon was my papa, but he wasn't really my father. Not like he was Les's, Theo's, and Mona's father." He turned his scowl on Lena. "You always said that it didn't matter because what mattered was who raised me, and that was Papa Simon. Isn't it true? "

Yes. She'd always told him that. Hector had always accepted the explanation. He'd never questioned it.

Until now.

Hector's question hung in the air like a live grenade, filling the room with a tense, charged silence.

"Your Grace?" Mr Mortimer prodded, looking expectantly at Lena for more.

"He means you, Mama," Theo put in.

Her shoulders slumped. "The truth is…" She swallowed. "I don't know," she finally whispered. She rubbed at the throbbing in her temples.

Hector directed his next question directly at the Duke. "If Mama is your wife, are you saying that you are my father?" His voice rang clear across the room.

Lena closed her eyes, feeling as if she was trapped in a dream.

At first, the Duke did not seem to want to answer. Then finally, he said in a thick, gravelly voice, "It seems to be a distinct possibility."

Everyone began to speak at once.

"Well, there it is," Theo muttered.

"This is a grave misunderstanding," Lena repeated.

"One must examine the evidence," Mr Mortimer said weakly.

"I knew it, I knew it!" Lady Evangeline clapped her hands.

Hector had gone white as a sheet and said nothing at all.

The pounding in Lena's head had increased as if the musicians of an entire orchestra were thumping their tambourines in her head. "Silence!" she snapped .

To her surprise, the room fell indeed silent.

She pulled herself up, walked to the door, and opened it. "I beg your pardon, but enough is enough. This situation is upsetting the children, and I won't have it. Please leave." When it came to protecting her family, Lena had no qualms about throwing an English Duke out the door by his collar. Even if he was supposedly her forgotten husband. Even if he might be Hector's father.

"I admit that all this must be rather overwhelming for you all," Lady Evangeline chimed in apologetically. "And we haven't exactly approached the whole thing with delicate sensitivity."

"But there is so much left to discuss," Mr Mortimer protested.

"Enough." The Duke cast a searching glance at Lena. "We have indeed overtaxed you. You appear unwell and in need of rest. We will no longer impose our company on you. Let us resume the matter another day."

He picked up his hat, stick, and gloves, and as he walked past her, she smelled it again, that strangely familiar scent. What was this? It made her want to cry.

Lady Evangeline began to say something, went to the door, came back and threw her arms around Lena, and, before she could recover from the surprise, she too left along with Mr Mortimer.

Lena was left alone in the parlour with her children.

Hector's face darkened. "He's not my father," he declared and stormed out of the room.