Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

G raham seemed to be keeping to his word and looked to Samantha as to what she wished to do.

She looked at the butler trying to escort her half-brother out and then her half-brother, and for just a moment, she felt pity. He had come a long way to simply speak with her, and if he was as uncaring as her father, then he would not be there.

Furthermore, at least if he told her what he wanted, then she would know. If she had him leave, then she would never know why he was there.

"I shall give you five minutes," she said firmly, "and not a second more."

"Wonderful. That is all that I ask. Where can we discuss this?"

"Right here," she stated. "Right now."

"Very well. Your Grace, if you wouldn't mind."

Graham looked at Adam, and Samantha did the same. Surely, he did not mean…

"This is my home," Graham replied sternly. "I shall not be told where I can and cannot go, and so I shall stay right here."

"Then I shall take Samantha elsewhere."

"You shall do no such thing. My wife is not to leave my sight when speaking to men of your sort."

Samantha did not know what Graham meant by that, but she chose not to believe that he was referring to his status and titles, for they had only just discussed that.

"It is a family matter," Adam explained, "and so I think it is best that Samantha and I keep it between the two of us."

"Then you will not be able to discuss it. Samantha is my family now and not yours. In fact, I would have to point out that you have never been her family. You have only appeared to take a title for yourself."

"I do not care for the title, and I never have. I cannot stand this place, if you must know, and I fully intend to return to Scotland once everything is in order, but I do have a sense of duty and as of right now, my duty is to my sisters. Samantha is, whether she likes it or not, my sister."

"Your half-sister," she corrected him.

"Connected by our father, and that is what I must speak to you about. Why is that so hard to understand?"

"Why can you not understand that you are unwanted?" Graham asked. "We cannot be any clearer. Either say what you must say or leave."

"Is that what you want, Samantha?" he asked, and Samantha did not know what to say.

She did want him gone. She wanted to go back to what she was doing with the Duke and to forget that her father ever existed and that he had a son, but she also wanted to know what he had to say. For him to have arrived, there had to be a reason.

"Adam," she sighed, "whatever you can say to me, you can say it to my husband. I shall only tell him myself, later. You might as well save the both of us some time and tell him now. Unless, that is, it is something that my husband cannot know in which case I want no part in it at all."

Adam shifted from one foot to the other, clearly unsure of whether or not to speak. Graham stood at Samantha's side, as if ready to protect her, even though she was certain that Adam had not come to cause her any harm.

She did have to admit, however, that it felt good to have him protecting her to begin with.

"Very well," he sighed, "but I am asking you now not to shoot the messenger. I came as soon as I could, and it might not even mean anything anymore, but it has confused me if anything, and so I think it is best that you find out."

Graham huffed, but he showed the man to a seat, and Samantha sent for a tea to be brought.

"Whenever you are ready," she said, and her half-brother sighed.

"I do not know where to begin," he said carefully, "though I suppose the very start of it all would be best."

Adam had never much cared that he did not have a father. It had made little difference to his life, for those around him hardly saw theirs either. The only difference was that their fathers were working whereas Adam's simply did not seem to exist at all.

But he had never allowed it to make a difference in his life. He had his mother, whom he adored, and that was all that mattered to him. He only dared to ask about his father once, and when his mother told him the story, he decided that that was all it was — a story and nothing more.

After all, what boy would believe that his father was a rich earl in London whilst he was in Scotland with not a penny to his name? His mother had seemed very serious when she told him the story of how they had fallen in love and married, but once she told him that his father had two daughters that he had abandoned, so she had sent him away, he no longer believed her, especially when she told him that his father had left Scotland altogether.

To Adam, the thought of someone leaving Scotland was preposterous. Who in their right mind would ever leave?

He laughed at the memory as he traveled down to London. The journey was long, but he had affairs to get in order when he received word that his father was dead. As it transpired, he did indeed have a father in London, and he was indeed an earl. His mother had been telling the truth, and he was simply glad that while he did not believe her, he had never once accused her of lying to him.

He had expected a mountain of papers to organize, final debts to account for, and an incredibly short time to learn everything now that his father was deceased, and the titles were to be passed to him. What he had not expected, however, was a man that looked remarkably similar to him to appear in the grounds with his arms outstretched.

"My boy!" he called out to him. "At last, you are here!"

Adam reluctantly walked up to him and was pulled into an embrace. He tried to work out who the man was, for there had been no mention of an uncle. In fact, if there was an uncle, that would have been even better. He could have faked his demise and returned to Scotland, leaving the title in his uncle's capable hands.

But there was some sort of urgency in the man's voice. Something in the way he clung to Adam made him sure that something was not right at all.

"You must forgive me," the man continued.

"Oh, no, there is nothing to apologize for," Adam said politely, deciding to have an answer once and for all, "Grief can do unexpected things to a person, and I cannot imagine that losing a brother is easy."

The man blinked at him in disbelief.

"Do you not recognize me at all?" he asked, and Adam shook his head.

He wondered how he could possibly recognize a man that he had never met, but again, he had to consider the fact that losing someone was difficult, and so he had to keep in mind that those he met might not have been aware of what they were saying.

"I would have thought that your mother might have described me at least."

"Why would my mother have described you?" Adam asked. "In any case, I would not have remembered, for she passed so long ago."

"I remember that day. It was as though I had truly lost the love of my life, even though I had lost her long before then."

At last, everything made sense. His father had not died; he was standing right in front of him, looking at him as if Adam would solve each and every one of his problems.

The funeral that he had supposedly been invited to and avoided, the many letters from family members pleading with him to return and take up his place, they had all been lies. His father simply decided for whatever reason that Adam mattered to him now.

And he loathed him for it.

"So you are not dead," Adam sighed. "Unless you truly did miss me so much that you came back to life for a brief moment or indeed that the journey grew so long and tiresome that I am sleeping and having a terrible dream."

"No, you are very much in London, and I am very much alive."

"Then I am not needed here," he said firmly, turning around to board his carriage once more, but his father grabbed his sleeve.

"You are," he said quickly. "Needed here, that is. I need you to be here."

"You do not. I was told to come at once and take my place as the Earl. That place is taken, and so there is no need for me to be here. You may write to me again when you are on your deathbed."

"I fear that I might soon be," he explained. "Adam, I know that I have used dishonesty to bring you here, but you must understand that our situation is precarious. You are not known in society here, and for you to take your place, it is vital that you are known."

"I do not care about such rules."

"I know, and you are not to blame for that. You have never been expected to know these things, and so we do not have much time to prepare you before I… before you must take the role on."

Adam looked at his supposed father more carefully. There was a resemblance between the two of them, and so he did not doubt that they were related, but he did not want to admit it. His father had lied to him effortlessly, and he had done so time and time again in an attempt to have him arrive on his doorstep, and Adam did not doubt that such a behavior would continue.

But he also noticed, as he looked at him, that he was unwell. He did not know exactly what was wrong, but his father looked far older than he had been led to believe he was. He seemed weak and desperate, and for just a moment, Adam felt sympathy for him. Perhaps it was out of desperation that he had lied? It was easier to understand such a motive at least.

And so he stayed. He did not enjoy seeing his father, and he longed to return to Scotland, but he had a duty to fulfill, and so he did so. Every meal he shared with him, he hoped for him to reveal something, but the Earl never did. It was always the same sad stories about how his daughters had never done anything to help him, and so his affluent lifestyle would be given only to his son. He also talked at great length about his success and how he expected great things from Adam. Adam listened to him, but he never truly took any heed to it. The Earl would pass away, Adam would receive the titles, then he would leave.

Then his father began to falter. There would be pieces said to Adam that he found problems with only for there to be perfectly reasonable explanations for it. Diana and Samantha never visited but only because they were selfish. To that, Adam suggested speaking to them, but his father quickly forbade it. Then it became that their husbands would not allow it, but Adam suggested going to their homes, and again his father refused. It was more trouble than it was worth as far as he was concerned.

Adam did not understand this. If he had been so desperate to find Adam and have him come to London, why could he not extend such efforts towards his daughters, the ones that he had knowingly. Then Adam remembered what his mother had told him about how he had abandoned them both and only returned to them once she had sent him away.

And so he insisted on speaking to them.

"You mustn't," his father warned. "They are unkind ladies. They are extremely envious that you are to inherit the estates."

"And I can see why they would be if they are. It is unfair that they have been here all their lives, only for you to instead place all of your time into a man you do not know."

"But I do know you. You are my son."

"I am my mother's son. You may have fathered me, but you are not my father. I do not want to be here. I would much rather be in Scotland, and I am only here out of duty. I looked a fool at that wedding with everyone staring at me and even my own sister wanting nothing to do with me."

"She is envious as I told you."

"Her wedding day was about me! I would have felt the same way that she did."

"Adam," he said firmly, "I understand that this is not what you expected, but you must understand that everything that I have ever done was for you. The moment I learned of your existence, I began planning. I did everything I could to ensure that you would be able to take your place as earl. I even found husbands for your two sisters so that they would be out of the way. I know how ladies can be when we men are trying to work."

"And how exactly did you marry them off?" Adam asked. "I had suspected that they were love matches."

"Diana volunteered herself," he confessed. "She always was my favorite of the two. Samantha, on the other hand, required some persuading."

"Persuading?"

"You know how some ladies are. They believe that they are capable of being more than wives. Nothing could scare her into submission, not even threats, but then I had the perfect opportunity. I saw her in the Duke's bedchambers. All it took was one little note, and she had no choice but to marry him. To this day, she does not know what I did. She blames her husband's brother, I believe. Now look at me. I am a man with two daughters married to wealthy dukes and a son that will take my title."

Adam was stunned. After weeks of willing his father to tell him something, he had finally gotten what he had wanted. It did not, however, satisfy him in any way, shape, or form. It made him angry, furious even, that his father could treat his own daughters like that.

He left immediately. He did not know where he would go, but he knew that he had to tell Samantha, no matter what she felt about him. He hated England, hated his father, but he had a duty to protect his sisters whether they were happy about it or not.