Chapter Thirty-Nine

A week later, Honoria's presence was requested at Dunnelocke Abbey by the real Vandemere. And the card actually read, Your presence is requested by the real Vandemere .

To make matters worse, the betrothal contract finally surfaced from wherever it had been.

It was a yoke around her neck, dragging her into despair.

As their carriage arrived in front of the abbey, Honoria's heart ached. "I cannot believe you accepted his invitation."

The invitation they received was in celebration of the betrothal between their families. But she already hated this new Vandemere.

He'd sent her letter after letter, expounding upon her beauty and stating his eagerness to have her for his bride. The utter

audacity!

It made her positively ill, and she couldn't believe that her parents had agreed to attend.

"We can hardly refuse to honor the word of our family. Besides," Mother added with a placating pat to her knee, "all we have

to do is attend. You are not, and never were, obligated to marry against your will, no matter whose name is on the betrothal

contract."

"Be that as it may," Father interjected, "if we didn't attend the formal gathering this evening, it would appear as though

we were breaking the contract without considering the legalities. And the very last thing we want is to be embroiled in another

scandal."

Honoria hated the guilt she felt. Hated that they were right.

"When we step inside, just remember that you can always refuse him."

Honoria nodded to her mother. But every step on her way to the door was weighted with dread.

When the door to the abbey opened, Algernon escorted them to the drawing room to wait.

Honoria didn't like returning to the abbey. It hurt her heart, remembering all too vividly the night she'd imagined herself

lady of the manor. She didn't want to spend time with the widows. She was angry at them. And she didn't want to see that real

Vandemere either.

In fact, she planned to give him a piece of her mind. But first she needed to gather her thoughts and her composure. In private.

She said as much to her parents, and since the widows had not joined them yet, they encouraged her to take a few minutes out

on the terrace in the night air.

Unfortunately, her desire to be alone was thwarted when she heard the scrape of a sole against the stones at the far end.

Her attention turned toward the shadows, just as a figure emerged. A figure who seemed to be made of shadows for how well

he blended with them.

Her breath caught as Oscar appeared. And her heart leaped.

"Oscar!" she said in a stage whisper before she covered her mouth and glanced over her shoulder to the drawing room. No one

seemed to have noticed. So she rushed to take his hand and drag him back into the shadows. "Before anyone catches you, we'll

take my parents' carriage."

"Trying to save me again, are you?"

"Well, you're the idiot who escapes from gaol only to return to the people who had you carted away in the first place." She

swatted his shoulder. "Why did you return to the abbey?"

"I had to stop you from marrying someone you don't love."

For that answer, she paused long enough to throw her arms around him and press her mouth to his. "Just so you know, I had

no intention of marrying Vandemere. I only came here to give him a piece of my mind."

"Do you mean to say that you didn't appreciate the superfluous compliments and praise of your beauty?"

She sent him a glare. "And how did you—? Just how long ago did you escape? And why haven't you come to see me?"

He held up a finger. "Patience, Signore."

Lights illuminated the window near them, forcing them deeper into the shadows. At the end of the terrace, they took the stone

steps down to the side garden, interrupting the cricketsong.

"Did I ever mention that I was born in Scotland?" he asked conversationally as if they weren't furtively skulking away from

the abbey.

She looked askance at him. "I don't believe you did. Is that what you wish to talk about right now?"

"Actually, yes." He grinned. "Coincidentally, so was Millicent. She had even been betrothed to a farmer there, until her family

insisted that she marry Hugh Fairfax. So she left the man she loved in order to honor the wishes of her family."

Honoria's steps slowed. "Oscar, you didn't escape from gaol to tell me to marry Vandemere, did you? Because if you did, I—"

He silenced her diatribe with a firm kiss. "As I said before, patience ."

"Very well," she huffed and looked over her shoulder as they continued on.

"Now, where was I?... Ah, yes. So during this past sennight, Aunt Millie went to Scotland and reunited with her love. Coincidentally, he also happens to be the registrar who oversees the birth records and collects fines for those who don't bother to record the birth of their child. You see, Scottish law dictates that every birth must be recorded. They are very particular."

When they stopped to peer around the corner, she absently said, "Interesting."

"I thought so. Because this insistence is also helpful in matters of legitimacy," he paused. "You may not know this, but Scotland

is one of the few places where a child's illegitimacy can be altered after the fact. So if... say a marriage certificate

between two parties were to be presented well after a child was born, that child could then have the word illegitimate stricken from his birth record."

"Fascinating," Honoria offered and tugged him back around the corner when she heard voices. "But I don't know why you're telling

me about Millicent and her former betrothed."

"As I said, I was born in Scotland. Illegitimately, because my father was grieving the loss of his first wife and child and

was likely overcome with guilt when he sought comfort with my mother, who was also his wife's identical twin."

Her attention was snared at the mention of twins. "I remember you telling me that your mother was a twin. But I did not know

that they were identical."

He nodded. "My mother was an opera singer, and her sister was an actress on the London stage."

"But that is just like Vandemere. You're not telling me that you're related to the man who had you thrown in gaol, are you?"

"No. Not to him, but that's a different story," he said. "You see, Cleo was rather protective of her home and decided to hire

an actor to play the role of Vandemere in order to get rid of me. But her plan fell apart when the cleric from Africa arrived

with the birth record stating the date of Manford Fairfax's birth and, regrettably, his death. Because both mother and son

died in childbirth."

"So then, there is no heir? No Vandemere?"

He held up a finger. "But Titus Fairfax had another son... with the twin sister of his first wife."

"Oscar, are you saying that Titus Fairfax was John Flintridge, your father?" she asked carefully.

When he nodded, she could see the hurt and longing in his eyes as he was still coming to terms with it. All this time, he'd

thought his father abandoned him. To know that he'd died must have been even more difficult.

And she wrapped her arms around him again. "Oh, my darling. And you have had to bear all of this on your own. Why didn't you

come to me?"

He held her close, breathing in her scent. "Well, I've had a rather busy week. After all, I had to drive to Scotland with

Millicent and an old cleric, who happened to look alarmingly like Cardew. But he arrived with a rather convincing wedding

certificate between Titus and Marina Fairfax, which made my birth legitimate."

"I still don't understand..."

"I think you do, Signore."

She pulled back and gaped at him. "So you are..."

"Go on. You can say it."

" You are the real Vandemere?"

He lifted one shoulder. "In a matter of speaking."

"You wrote those letters, didn't you?" She swatted him when he flashed a grin. "I came here to throw that betrothal contract

in your face."

"You still can, you know."

"Hmm... I think I will. But that still leaves one problem." She feigned a sigh. "There would still be a legally binding

agreement. The only real way to get out of it would be to elope with the man I love."

"It just so happens that I sent a letter to the cook at Hartley Hall as well. Mrs. Dougherty adores me. And I have it under

good authority that she packed a hamper and left it strapped to the carriage. Do you think there are any biscuits?"

She laughed. "I suppose we should find out."

"Then, what are we waiting for?"

Taking her by the hand, they made a mad dash around the corner toward the front of the abbey...

Only to have everyone waiting to bid them farewell.

As they climbed into the carriage, there was Millie in a rose-colored dress, standing beside a handsome man in a kilt. Babette

was draped around Cardew, a hand resting over her belly. Alfreda and Dudley stood arm in arm. Her parents embraced and tearfully

applauded with exuberance as if asking for an encore. And Cleo offered a wave and a sheepish shrug. Then, she took Toby by

the hand and led him back into the house.

Honoria exchanged a look with Oscar. "I guess I'm not the only one determined to live my life to the fullest."

"And Toby is about to have a very good night," he said rakishly and tugged her over to his side of the carriage, arranging

her on his lap. "Then again, I think I am, too."

He pulled her mouth to his, but their kiss was a tender thing. A new beginning. And her heart flooded with so much love that

she was afraid she couldn't contain it all. But she knew that to truly feel alive, she had to accept all of it—all the pain

and the joy—without hiding from it.

Easing back, she smoothed a lock of hair from his forehead. "I might be out of my depth. I'm not sure I know how to play this

new game of ours."

"Then, we'll make the rules up as we go."

The Beginning