Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

OCTAVIAN TUCKED SYD'S arm in his and placed his hand over hers for extra reassurance as they stood in front of the Harcourt townhouse the following morning awaiting the inevitable confrontation. Not that she needed him to hold her hand, really. Her flood of tears last night had not been about her mother's hurtful words, but about her fear of losing him because of those accusations hurled by the woman who had not a trace of maternal feeling in her.

Now that Syd was assured their marriage would endure, she seemed to be back in fighting spirit. However, she was still uncertain that it should endure because of the damage she feared to his family and his Admiralty career. For this reason, she continued to behave like a martyr. All morning long, she had insisted on his needing to give their situation more thought. "No thought needed, Syd. My mind is made up," he had told her every time she brought it up. "You are my wife and the only woman I want beside me. That is an end to it."

"You do not know all the facts yet," she would counter.

"Nor do you. Stop trying to save me when I am not in need of rescue."

"Perhaps you need rescuing from yourself."

He did not want martyr Syd.

Martyr Syd was going to sacrifice her happiness to protect his good name when he couldn't give a fig about what others thought of him. Martyr Syd was going to run off and hide somewhere because she did not want to be a burden to him when she was actually the light in his life and eased the weight on his shoulders.

Nor would his brothers care for any supposed stain she might attach to the Thorne family name. How could anyone consider it her fault when she had been an innocent newborn when taken by the Harcourts?

"Good morning, Stanford," she greeted the Harcourt butler when he opened the door, her smile sweet but her chin pointed upward in defiance.

"Good morning, Lady Thorne. Captain Thorne." He tried to maintain a stoic facade even though he was clearly surprised to find them standing in front of him at this early hour. But it was not all that early. Syd knew the schedules each parent kept and had mentioned her father would be up by now. It was shortly after ten o'clock and who really cared whether it was socially acceptable or not to call upon them when dealing with a situation of this importance? "Neither Lord Harcourt nor Lady Harcourt has come down yet."

Syd did not appear in the least put off. "That's too bad, but we shall await them in the parlor. It is a most hideous room, is it not Stanford?"

"Yes, m'lady. Without a doubt."

She cast him another warm smile. "Which is why I hope they will not keep us waiting. Tell them they have ten minutes to get down here or Captain Thorne shall bodily remove them from their beds and haul their miserable personages down the stairs."

Stanford stared at her in dismay.

"Forgive me if I've shocked you, Stanford. But I'm sure you overheard more than you ought yesterday and know what this is about." Syd pointed to the large clock in the corner of the entry hall. "Time is wasting. Do not bother to show us into the parlor. We know the way. But do send in refreshments. Our visit may take a while."

Since she already had her arm wrapped in Octavian's, she now tugged him along. The drapes were drawn and the room was dark even though it was a bright morning. Syd marched to the windows and drew the heavy damask drapes aside to allow in a flood of sunlight. "Much better," she muttered as dust filtered into the air.

She settled on the settee beside him. "But it is still a hideous room."

He readily agreed. "Syd, I am not going to march upstairs and drag your parents down here."

"Then I will do it," she said with a stubborn look on her face. "But you are the big ox, not me. My mother will probably push me down the stairs if I were the one to do it. Is it bloodthirsty of me to want to poke her in the nose? My father deserves a poke in the nose, too. He really does. Do you think they are the most incompetent parents ever to exist? I am going to tell them so."

"I'm sure they'll be delighted to hear it," he said dryly. The situation was serious and he should not be grinning, but Octavian could not hold back. Syd hopped back and forth between behaving like a martyr and behaving like a hellion.

He had gotten to know and love the hellion.

If it were up to him, he would declare the martyr banished.

The wait ended up dragging on for another thirty minutes, but Octavian was in no hurry. As it turned out, neither was Syd. When Stanford wheeled in the tea cart filled with some of Syd's favorite treats, she pounced on the scones that were served along with their tea. This was because she hadn't eaten anything last night or this morning, and was now hungry.

She was also primed for battle.

Her father was the first to walk in.

"Thorne," he muttered as Octavian rose to greet him with an outstretched hand. "I know you think very little of me, and with good reason. But not even I was prepared for what happened yesterday. Shall we start? I do not think Lady Harcourt will be down anytime soon. She never leaves her bedchamber before noon."

Syd jumped to her feet, her hands curled into fists to mark her irritation. "I'll fetch her."

"No," Octavian said. "I'd rather we speak to your father first."

He knew Syd was impatient to learn the truth. However, it was best learned by keeping those two apart and hearing each version of the story. He expected each of them to lie, but somewhere along the way they might drop a few kernels of truth.

Syd sat back down without protest. "All right. You know best, Octavian."

He chuckled.

Was he hearing right? Headstrong Syd deferring to his judgement?

She cast him an impishly loving grin. "You do on occasion make good sense."

Now that she had finished her second scone, he took her hand and held it in his. He intended to keep hold of her for no logical reason. She was no longer fragile or suffering. Nor was she going to run away from this meeting. She had been extremely hurt by her parents and wanted answers.

He was here to protect her.

In truth, Syd had him and his family, along with her circle of excellent friends to make up for any loss of family connection, should it turn out she was not their daughter.

Her so-called mother would surely sever all ties.

However, he did not think Harcourt would. Even if they were not related by blood, there was no mistaking he and Syd cared for each other.

The bounder, for all his lying, cheating ways, appeared to have a place in his heart for her. Not enough to prevent him from selling her off, however. His words of contrition were not enough to absolve him of that selfish act.

Octavian still did not like the man and was in no rush to forgive him his sins.

He liked Syd's mother even less. Syd had tried to be a good daughter to her. For all her efforts, she had been icily rebuffed every time. As far as Octavian was concerned, Syd had fulfilled any duty she owed this woman. Why should Syd ache over her when the cold witch did not care enough to join them in the parlor?

"Papa," Syd said, "it is time to tell me the truth."

"All of it," Octavian added. "Syd deserves to know."

Her father nodded. "I will not come out looking very good in this."

"Papa, how much worse can you look? You are a liar, a very bad gambler, and an even worse businessman. You sold my cousin to your last creditor, and–"

"It was a love match! It all worked out, did it not?"

"Yes," Syd admitted. "But you did not know it would. And do not forget, you tried to fob me off on him first."

Her father shook his head in disagreement. "I knew he was a good man. That's why I hoped to marry you off to him last year. It would have been the perfect solution, but you wouldn't do it. I suppose you loved Thorne even back then. You could have told me. So, your cousin got him instead and is deliriously happy now that she is married to him."

"Lucky for you," Syd muttered.

"No, not lucky for me at all. In truth, I was sorry that I had tried to swindle him. He was sharp and quickly caught me in the act. And now he owns the business entirely and is making a fortune off it. Is this not punishment enough for me?"

"You could have shared in the profits if you had kept your larcenous hands out of the till." Syd frowned at him. "And having learned not a single lesson from it, you quickly got yourself caught up with Sir Henry Maxwell."

Her father frowned. "I'm sure he cheated me."

"He beat you at your own game," Syd insisted. "And you were ready to hand me over to that beast to save your hide. Is it because I am not really your daughter? Was I expendable? Is this all you thought of me? Having drained the assets of the children's trust, you had no more use for me and did not care who took me next?"

"No! It wasn't that way at all!" He raked a hand through his thinning hair. "You are my daughter…my daughter of the heart."

Syd inhaled lightly. "But not of the blood?"

"Whether of the heart or of the blood does not matter. You are mine, Syd. I have loved you from the moment I brought you home. I loved watching you grow up into the splendid young lady you are today. I am so proud of you, although I have a rotten way of showing it."

"Indeed," Syd grumbled.

"I know I pledged you to Sir Henry. It was the last thing I ever wanted to do. But the man was ruthless and obsessed with you. He threatened to kill me if I did not give you over to him." He shrugged. "I did not care and told him to go ahead and do it. When he saw that threat had failed, he then vowed to harm you if I did not comply. I could not put him off when he demanded you in exchange for my debt vowels." He cast her a weak smile and continued. "But you are a resourceful girl, Syd. I knew you would think of something to save yourself."

She frowned. "You believed me resourceful enough to handle that brute?"

Her father nodded. "Yes, you would have got the better of him."

"You are deluded if you think so. He would have beaten me down. Physically beaten me until I had no soul or spirit left."

"No. No!" Her father looked stricken. "You would have found a way to best him. And see, this is exactly what you did by marrying Captain Thorne. I have not always been lucky in life, but you have. Syd, you have that golden touch. You've always had it, even as a little girl. I wish I could have taken you into the gambling hells with me back then. I would have won a fortune with you as my charm."

She gave a light, dismissive snort. "And would you have paid off your creditors?"

Her father sighed. "In time. If pressed. Most of them. But the point is, I would have won at cards had you been with me. No debts. No bothersome collectors banging on our door. This is why I was sure something would come up to save you from Sir Henry. I was not surprised in the least to learn you had eloped to Gretna Green with Captain Thorne. See? Lucky."

Syd now frowned at her father. "I'm sorry he married me. As reward, he is burdened with a penniless wife who does not even know her own name, and a looming scandal that will destroy his career and his family's good name."

"No, child." He glanced at Octavian and smiled. "He has married a gem and he knows it. In turn, you have the best husband. He moved heaven and earth to keep you safe. Do you think he cares what anyone thinks of your parentage? One might say, you owe me a debt of gratitude for bringing the two of you together. Admit it, Captain Thorne. Would you have offered for my daughter had circumstances not pushed you together?"

Syd leaped to her feet. "Of all the gall! Only you would be so vain as to congratulate yourself for bringing about our match."

"And why should I not? It is a love match, is it not? Or will you now pretend you do not love him?"

A blush crept up Syd's neck and into her cheeks. "Of course, I love him. I have always loved him, but you could not know this. Do not dare take credit for bringing us together. You had no part in it. We would have come around to it in time."

"How?" her father asked. "Gossip had it that Captain Thorne was courting Lady Clementine Renfield. Would you have said anything to him before you lost him for good? Not you, Syd. You are too proud. You would have hidden your feelings and wept in silence as he married the wrong woman."

Octavian thought they were getting a little off the point. "Lord Harcourt, you said that you brought Syd home as a newborn. From where? Who are her natural parents?"

"Does it matter? They are both long since dead."

Syd gasped.

Octavian wrapped an arm around her. "Harcourt, be careful what you say. Can you not see how painful this is for your…" He let his voice trail away, for he did not know who Syd was to this man.

"Who were my parents? I have a right to know."

Octavian nudged Syd closer to him as tears now stung her eyes.

"Who?" she insisted, her heart laid bare for this man to crush.

Her father pondered the matter for a long moment and then nodded. "All right, child. You may as well hear it from me rather than from the gossip rags. You are the child of my best friend, the Marquess of Sutton and the squire's daughter he loved. They never married, Syd. At least, I do not believe they did. Nor were they ever likely to marry because he was already betrothed to another. In the end, none of it mattered because he caught a lung fever before he ever had the chance to wed either of those ladies, and died before you were born."

"And my mother?" she asked in trembling voice.

"She died shortly after giving birth to you. I was there at the convent for the birth, waiting in the antechamber for news she had delivered you. I was anxiously pacing back and forth as though I were the father. I was there by her side when she passed. You see, I was fulfilling a deathbed promise made to Sutton to ensure his beloved and their child would always be kept safe. Your mother's name was Catriona Langley, and she looked quite a bit like you, Syd. She named you before she died. Sydney. You must be called Sydney she insisted, for that was the family surname of the Marquess of Sutton. He was Douglas Sydney."

Tears were streaming down Syd's cheeks as she listened to Harcourt.

Octavian felt his own eyes moisten, but Syd had tears enough and did not need him crying, too. "Harcourt," he said, hesitating to ask the next question because Syd was already so fragile, but it had to be asked, "do the Langleys and the Sydneys know about Syd?"

He nodded. "Yes, for I approached them both. Catriona's family had cut her off and did not want anything to do with her or her child. I paid for her burial, for they would not take care of her even in death. The same for Sutton's father who was the Duke of Parkhurst. Sutton's mother had died years earlier. Perhaps she would have been kinder, but Parkhurst was not. He was enraged that Sutton wanted to break off the arranged betrothal and marry Catriona instead. Sutton's brother ended up marrying the lady originally meant for Sutton. He knew what had transpired but could not take you in, even though he wanted to. To do so meant fighting his own father and forcing you on the very woman his own brother was about to jilt."

"So, you took me in?"

He nodded. "I was not always the depraved hound you believe me to be, Syd. I was a good man once. My first thoughts were of honoring my pledge to my best friend and protecting you. Please believe me. Only a few weeks had passed by the time I had exhausted all efforts and realized neither family would take you in or ever acknowledge you. By this time, I was relieved. I had already fallen in love with you, even though you were Sutton's child. But you were mine to raise now, and I meant to claim you as mine and give you a happy home."

He snorted and shook his head. "Lady Harcourt and I had been wed for several years by then, and I was coming to realize what a cold woman she was and that we would never have children of our own. She could not stand me…and I could not stand to touch her. I brought you home and told her about Sutton. In this, I laid down the law. You were our child and no one was to be told otherwise."

Syd's eyes widened. "But how could you get away with it? Others knew she was not carrying a child."

"Who was to know? Our few retainers were loyal and never uttered a word. We were not in London at the time, so it was easy to get away with the ruse. I had taken her on a tour of my holdings, so we were traveling from one remote farm to another. She was haughty and never befriended any of the local gentry. She kept to herself. Few people other than a maid or two ever saw her up close. She wanted to take up residence in London, flaunt her status as countess, and become a notable among the ton elite. I agreed to all of her demands, so long as we passed you off as our daughter."

Syd shook her head. "And she went along with it?"

Harcourt nodded. "However, she was never accepted as the ton darling she'd hoped to become. I could have told her she would never be adored. How could she be when she had not an ounce of warmth or compassion? People sensed her coldness and stayed away. But she had made her deal with me and feared the consequences if she were to renege. I would have shipped her off to one of those remote farms and left her there to tend the hogs. I was tempted to do it so many times, but she kept silent about you, and so we kept up the pretense of a marriage while going about in London. Her resentment of me festered and extended to you. She never believed you were Sutton's daughter. She has always thought you were mine."

"This is why she detested me," Syd said brokenly.

"She would have found a reason to detest you even if you had been ours and delivered from her own body. It took me a while to understand how truly empty her heart was." He gave a bitter laugh. "I thought it was just me she disliked. But she hated the world and everything beautiful in it. It is easy to blame her for the man I am today. Oh, she had an important part to play in it, for certain. However, I could have made changes to better my life and never did. I am trying now. That widow…I have no intention of taking her money, although we will be living off her income because the Harcourt properties are in a shambles and bring almost nothing in now. Perhaps the next earl will do better. Syd, it could be your son that inherits. He would be next in line."

Octavian felt her entire body grow tense. In the next moment, she leaped to her feet again and frowned at Harcourt. "You've just told me I am not your daughter. How can any child of mine inherit?"

"I have claimed you as mine and will claim to my dying breath that you are our legitimate offspring. Who is to know? And why should you not inherit? What do I care if some distant relation is cut out because of it?"

"If Lady Harcourt reports this to the gossip rags, as you obviously fear she will, then everyone will know," Octavian pointed out. "More important, Syd now knows the truth and she will not lie about this, whether or not it remains a secret."

"Added to the fact that an experienced medical practitioner will know whether a woman has ever had a child," Syd said. "All it would take is a simple examination of her body."

"She will never let anyone touch her," Harcourt replied, his bitterness once more evident. "And by not allowing a doctor's examination, everyone will conclude she was the liar."

Syd turned to Octavian, her expression one of frustration.

Well, this was her father.

He could not stop scheming, even as he supposedly confessed all. If what he said was true and Syd was not his legitimate daughter, that did not dissuade him in the least from plotting to cheat the rightful heir from assuming the title.

Syd was so embroiled, her heart in a jumble over a thousand conflicting feelings, that Octavian knew it was up to him to sort out the lies. He wanted to hear from Lady Harcourt next, but would the woman condescend to speak to him? He was not above bribing her to keep her mouth shut, if this is what was needed to protect Syd.

The woman finally made her way downstairs as the earl's confession came to an end. She stood in the doorway, seething as she looked upon her husband and Syd. "He lies to you. He cannot stop his lies."

The earl rose to offer her his seat. "No, I have told them the complete truth. They now know everything. You cannot hurt them, and you cannot hurt me any longer. Captain Thorne, you shall find me at my club if you have need of me again." With that, he strode out, leaving them to deal with his wife.

Octavian rose. "Please, Lady Harcourt. Join us."

She shook her head. "Not with that woman here."

Blessed saints.

Is this how she referred to Syd?

He reached out to take Syd's hand, but Syd was once more on her feet and staring back at the woman. "The feeling is mutual, I assure you."

She cast him a look that revealed it was all right, that he should speak with Lady Harcourt on his own, and then turned to walk out.

Octavian had no idea where she meant to go. He started after her, but she stopped him with a smile and slight wave of her hand. "You'll find me in the kitchen with Cook. Her scones were delicious. I think I will have a few more. I'm all right, my love."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll come to you when I'm done."

Lady Harcourt took a seat on the settee, as grim looking a piece of furniture as he had ever seen. Dark color. Heavy fabric. Overly carved ebony frame. The lady herself looked quite grim, too. She sat with her hands primly folded on her lap and her back as stiff as a board. "What has my wretched husband told you?"

Octavian took the seat across from hers and then leaned forward. "Does it matter? I am here to listen to what you have to say. Is Syd your daughter or not?"

"Not."

"Care to be more forthcoming? No one is ever going to believe you if this is all you will say."

Octavian now leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs before him. "You opened up this Pandora's Box by threatening to reveal all to the gossip rags, Lady Harcourt. Your husband has prepared his defenses. It is a very good story, too. He will have the ton embracing him and declaring him a hero. Is this what you want?"

"He charms everyone," she said with disdain. "What has he told you? That Syd was the daughter of his friend?" Her bitter laughter resounded through the room. "He is such a lying rat. The squire's daughter was his mistress, not Sutton's. Then he has the gall to bring his own by-blow into our home. How could I ever accept her as my own? To look upon her every day and know he was unfaithful to me so early in our marriage."

"How can you be sure he was lying to you?"

"Because this is what he does best. He lies and lies, and then he lies some more. Fool that I was, I agreed to his scheme so that I could be assured of remaining in London and going about in Society. But he had planned ahead and was already scheming to take control of the trust my family had established for any children of mine. Once we had presented her as our daughter, there was no going back or else I would lose not only him, but my family. I was trapped, and that little girl had trapped me."

"That little girl was a mere babe at the time and not to blame for anything you or Lord Harcourt did." Octavian tried to stifle his anger, but it was hard to do when both Harcourts were so quick to deny responsibility for their own selfish actions. "Why are you so eager for your version of the truth to come out now? Other families will be hurt by it."

"Why should I care about the mistress's family? They are nothing but common gentry. They had already disowned their daughter for taking up with Harcourt and being so stupid as to get with child. I'm sure he's told you the woman was Sutton's beloved. Ha! Sutton merely played along because he wanted out of his own betrothal and hoped fabricating a scandal might have the desired effect. He hoped that his betrothed's family would be furious and break it off."

"Then Sutton died unexpectedly," Octavian said, prodding her to continue.

"Yes, and then Harcourt's beloved Miss Langley died in childbirth. So he brought the child home to me. Sutton's father knew the harlot was Harcourt's lover and not his son's. The Langley's knew their daughter had taken up with a married man– again, not Sutton who was not yet married. Harcourt could not unload the child, not even with all of his powers of persuasion."

"The child, Syd, was blameless."

"She was Harcourt's and I've hated her from the moment he brought her into this house," she said with enough venom to shock Octavian who was never easily shocked. "I would have beaten her every day, if I could. But Harcourt threatened to beat me if ever I laid a hand on her. If I starved her, then he would starve me. If I sent her away, then he would do the same to me. So I endured. And suffered. And encouraged that vile Sir Henry Maxwell to take her when I noticed his interest in her. I did not care if he married her or not."

"You just wanted to see her hurt," Octavian said, unable to hold down the bile rising in his throat.

He had never wished death on any man, but was relieved beyond measure to know Sir Henry was now dead and unable to get his brutal hands on Syd. As for this woman, she needed to be banished to some devil's island where she would never be seen or heard from again.

She no longer maintained her genteel facade, so carried away was she in her quest to reveal the truth.

Her warped idea of the truth.

Octavian now saw the intensity of her hatred reflected in her eyes. He was glad Syd was not beside him and could be spared this wickedness. Not even he, with all his battle experience, was prepared for the extent of her hatred. Syd never stood a chance with this woman. "He plans to leave me. So I will see him and his bastard daughter destroyed."

Octavian rose, for he had heard enough.

Even if everything she said about her husband and Catriona Langley was true, she had taken her rage beyond any bounds of reason.

He meant to escort Syd to Lady Withnall's residence next. If anyone knew of the gossip circulating back then, she would. He would also hire Homer Barrow, the best Bow Street man in London, to dig deeper and ferret out to the truth. Both Lady Withnall and Mr. Barrow could be counted on for their discretion.

One thing was for certain, Syd was not related in any way to Lady Harcourt. Whether she was Harcourt's child or Sutton's was yet to be determined. Octavian wanted the matter resolved before he and Syd had their own children. He wasn't worried that Syd would become a mother from hell as Lady Harcourt had been. There was too much kindness in Syd for that. She would never blame a child or turn away from it because of circumstances out of that child's control.

Nor was he ever going to be unfaithful to Syd and create such an impossible situation in his own home. If ever it happened– which was as likely as hell freezing over– but if it did ever happen, Syd would be the first to protect that child.

He shook off the unsavory thought of any dalliances, for he could not conceive of a situation where he would be unfaithful to her. He had not considered cheating on her before they had even entered into their make-believe marriage.

Now, their marriage was real.

If their nightly activities were any indication, they were probably already on their way to creating a family. It might take a month or two to be certain, but he would not be surprised if Syd was already with child.

Still too soon to tell, of course.

He struggled to contain his disgust as Lady Harcourt now rose to draw an end to their conversation.

His admiration for Syd only increased. He could not imagination what he would have become had his mother been like this witch standing before him. He was going to kiss Syd every moment he could. He was going to kiss her and tell her that he loved her until she grew fed up with him and smacked him over the head.

Octavian made his way to the Harcourt kitchen, hoping to keep his expression unreadable. He did not want Syd to see how shaken he was by his conversation with Lady Harcourt. He needn't have worried. Her beaming smile the moment she caught sight of him had him grinning in response. "Love, it is time to go."

The cook and kitchen staff cooed upon hearing his endearment for Syd. It was obvious she was their favorite Harcourt. Their smiles were genuine. She rose and kissed the cook. "Mrs. Simmons, I fear I am no longer favored in this house and we shall not have the opportunity to meet again. Thank you for all your wonderful meals. I shall miss you."

"Aw, my lady. Ye have yer husband to think about now." She cast Octavian a look of approval. "Take care of our Lady Syd."

He nodded. "I will."

They walked out, each of them saying nothing until they were in their carriage and on their way to drop in on Lady Withnall. As soon as the carriage rolled away, they each let out a breath of relief. Syd immediately began to toss questions at him. "What did she say? I thought she would speak more openly to you than she would if I were present. Do you mind that I left you and sat in the kitchen? What did she say about my father? Whose child am I?"

"Love, I did not mind that you sat in the kitchen. It was for the best. She did speak openly."

"And?"

"She's a hateful person."

Syd nodded as she cast him a mirthless smile. "I knew she did not like me."

That was an understatement.

The woman not only loathed her, but had been a danger to her for most of her life.

The only reason Lady Harcourt had kept Syd alive was because of the earl's threat to banish her from London and all genteel Society if she ever harmed Syd. That witch had accused the earl of scheming to take hold of the trust funds, but she had done nothing to stop him. In fact, she spent those funds as freely as he had.

Harcourt had not immediately gone through the children's trust, only depleting it once Syd was about to come of age. Octavian now understood why the earl had waited until recently to spend it all down. He feared what his wife might do to Syd if he'd spent it earlier. She would have unleashed her rage once she felt Syd was no longer of use to them.

Syd nudged him gently. "Octavian, what did she say? Who am I?"

He stifled a shudder. "She claims you are Harcourt's daughter, just as Harcourt indicated she would say. She insists he was the one to have the affair with Miss Langley, not his friend Sutton."

"Do you believe her?"

"I truly do not know which of them to believe. This is why we need to speak to Lady Withnall. She might shed some light on the matter. She knows everyone's secrets and will also be discreet in not repeating whatever we confide in her."

Syd sighed. "No matter what we learn, the ugly rumors will still come out because Lady Harcourt will make certain of it."

"We will deal with it when it happens. We are still best armed by knowing the truth." She looked so forlorn, Octavian couldn't bear it. He drew her onto his lap and held her there as their carriage rolled through the busy London streets. "I love you, Syd."

She nestled against him. "Lady Harcourt must have been brutal. She has you rattled."

He groaned. "I marvel that you did not become a twisted, gnarled thing growing up with that woman. You are a beautiful rose she could not spoil no matter how much poison she attempted to inject in you. A delicate, but very hardy rose."

"I survived because my father, for all his faults, was very good to me."

"Yes, you've told me. I begin to see it now. He's such a wretch in so many ways, Syd."

She laughed lightly. "I know. Do you realize that if what he said is true, and that Douglas Sydney, the Marquess of Sutton, is my father, that I could be Lady Sydney Sydney? What a terribly ridiculous name."

Octavian chuckled. "It sprang to my mind when I heard Sutton's name, but I dared not say anything about it. However, all jesting aside. I am beginning to understand how much Harcourt does love you. However, I still will not forgive him for trying to sell you to Sir Henry."

They arrived at Lady Withnall's residence and were quickly shown into her drawing room, a light and airy, elegant room decorated in sky blue silks and florals. The tiny woman bustled in moments later, the quick thuck, thuck, thuck of her cane indicating her brisk walk. "I heard you had quite a row with your parents yesterday, Syd," she said, marching in and motioning for them to take a seat. "And now you are here after visiting them again this morning. How can I help you?"

Octavian marveled at this woman's web of contacts. She had more people spying for her than the Home Office or Foreign Office combined. He and Syd quickly related all that had happened.

Lady Withnall was a tiny woman, but she had a towering and commanding presence. Those with secrets feared her. Those who were honorable adored her. Everyone knew she was probably the best connected person in London.

"Lady Withnall, do you know who I am?" Syd asked, her voice so fragile that Octavian ached for her.

He took her hand in his as Lady Withnall began her response. "I had heard rumors, my dear. Long ago hints that you were not Lady Harcourt's child. But the whispers quickly died, for everyone could see how your father doted on you."

Octavian leaned forward. "He is a detestable man in many ways, but it seems he always did care for Syd. Is he Syd's father?"