Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

E mily pressed her hands against her dress skirts, hoping to alleviate the perspiration gathering there. Her heart raced, making it rather difficult to catch a normal breath. So many things were culminating in the moment before her. Her mind rushed with memories of friends in the boarding school who had fallen ill and died too young, who had no family by their side as they passed. Now Emily had the chance to face the possibility of her own family, only to have it also ripped away from her due to sickness, and it left her terrified. She had shared moments alone with the dowager duchess before, shopping on Bond Street and playing cards after eating dinner together, but she'd never felt confident enough to voice her concerns with the woman.

Now Emily felt the bravery had been thrust upon her, as this might be her final opportunity to get the whole truth about her own life. She had to dismiss her dark memories, and confront the discomfort before she didn't have a chance anymore.

"What is it, my dear?" the dowager duchess asked. "Are you disappointed I did not make it to your wedding? I hope you will forgive an old dying woman. How I wished I could have been there."

"Your Grace, I hope you will forgive my impertinence. I do not wish to disturb you in your illness, but my curiosity will not let me be a moment further without asking."

Recognition dawned in the old woman's eyes and she nodded. "You'll not disturb me, my dear. Ask me your questions."

Emily swallowed hard, forming the words in her mind before voicing them on her tongue. "No one has ever spoken of it, so I do not know if that means there is some great secret, or if I'm completely wrong in my assumptions, but I have reason to believe… that is, I've suspected for some time…" Finally inhaling a deep breath, she said, "Could it be possible that you are my mother?"

The dowager sighed, closing her eyes and leaning her head back as Emily waited, counting each heavy heartbeat in anticipation.

"Yes, child. I am your mother."

Relief settled over Emily's shoulders, the confirmation for what she had always known to be true, and yet, there was still so much more she didn't know. "Then that means the duke…"

"James is your brother, but his father was not your father."

Emily swallowed again. What could she mean?

"Mine was an arranged marriage," the dowager began, and already Emily felt the chill of their similar circumstances. "I had been chosen to marry the old Duke of Norland against my will. He was a decent man, titled and wealthy enough to satisfy my family, to be sure, but I had already fallen in love with another nobleman, and found myself unable to marry him. So I became a duchess and dutifully provided the heir to Wynnwood." Emily watched as the old woman turned wistful. "But I was unhappy, so I sought happiness elsewhere. We lived separately, and I kept the company of other gentlemen to soothe my heart."

Emily cast her eyes to the ground. A woman hardly ever spoke of such things, though she knew it was generally accepted. Married men often had their dalliances outside of marriage, and women were permitted the same, once their lineage was secure and as long as their dealings were discreet.

"Then years later I was reunited with the earl, the man I loved. I came to carry his child, and once you were born, you were sent away to the boarding school." The dowager looked up at Emily with tears shining in her eyes. "I could not bring you up here in London, nor could the earl take another woman's child into his home, for he had his own wife and family. I told James repeatedly he was his father's son, but I couldn't tell him about you, so he was somehow convinced he was a bastard, not worthy or suited to inherit Wynnwood. He stayed away from town, kept everyone at a distance, was considered cruel and unwanted company for neglecting his duties as a nobleman, which earned him that dreadful nickname, Undesirable Duke." She pressed her lips together in a sad smile. "Only when your father died did James learn of your existence, and that he was legitimate after all."

The truth of her existence settled in Emily's stomach, her discomfort growing. The duke was not the illegitimate one, she was.

"I am sorry that you had to be on your own for so long," the dowager continued. "But I hope you will have peace knowing that, even though you were not conceived in marriage, you were conceived in love. And it has brought me such happiness to see the woman you have become, so I do not have any regrets."

Emily sat straight in her chair, not able to look the dowager duchess in the eye any longer. She had finally received the truth she sought, yet still she was unsatisfied. But how could she have expected anything else?

"So you do not regret abandoning me?" Emily asked shortly.

The dowager sighed. "I understand you're angry with me, but I thought you of all people would understand, being stuck in a loveless marriage yourself."

Emily stiffened. How did she know?

"Do not act so surprised, my dear. Just because I'm laid to rest in this bed, does not mean I'm excluded from the circulating gossip. I have plenty of friends and visitors who inform me of the goings-on in society, and your hasty wedding was quite the talk of the town, along with the speculation of a loveless marriage."

The churning in Emily's stomach worked and soured with every word. Had their mistaken kiss somehow been outed? Had she ruined Mr. Westcott's reputation, or brought ire back to the duke's family name? What if the truth of her own parentage also came to light? What then?

"Perhaps after some years have passed, when another chance at love comes along, and you find your peace with a man who is not your husband, then you will not think so harshly of me."

Emily swallowed, shaking her head. "I do not care for your extra marital affairs, but I thank you for revealing the truth, for seeing me well-cared for even after being cast off, and for helping me find my way after I arrived in London. I will cherish the memories we have had together, though they may be few."

The dowager duchess sighed, leaning back into her pillows and pressing her lips together. "I am sorry I could not be the mother you deserved, Emily." She spoke with a gentleness in her voice and a sorrow in her eyes that Emily could only believe to be sincere .

But it was this finality that brought tears to her own eyes. The truth that she'd never had a mother she so desperately needed, only to have mere moments of knowing her as such before losing her. A jumble of thoughts and emotions, Emily felt the immediate need to leave. "May you have a swift and painless passing." Then bobbing a curtsy, she rushed out of the room.

Emily blindly went down the stairs, step by step, tears blurring her vision. She finally made her way down the familiar corridor to the drawing room, and found Isabel taking tea with Mr. Westcott. They both looked up in anticipation, but words escaped her for two long beats.

"I wish to leave," she said finally, and Mr. Westcott immediately rose to his feet.

"Won't you come have a cup of tea, my dear?" the duchess asked delicately, placing a hand beside her on the settee.

Emily shook her head curtly. "I wish to be alone." She was grateful the duke was not in the room. She wouldn't know how to face him with what she knew now, that their similar blue eyes were gifted from the same woman. That he'd known from the moment he'd met her at the boarding school who she was and had never told her a thing. Emily would eventually talk to Isabel about all of this, to glean more information and form a better understanding of it all, but she couldn't handle more right now. She needed to get away.

The carriage was summoned, and it took them away, with Emily clenching her jaw to stave off the tears. She did not want to cry in front of her husband any more than he'd already witnessed of her. He'd think of her as nothing more than a weepy mess, and she didn't want him to think he was shackled with worse.

"I am sorry for your loss, and your pain," he said quietly as they drew near to his townhome again. Their townhome. " Was the dowager duchess something akin to a mother figure for you?"

A mother figure… the words made Emily's chin waver, for the woman hadn't been, but oh, how she wished she could have been. What she would have given to experience her life from a slightly different position—to have a better relationship with the woman who was her mother, to be a legitimate lady, to have an actual chance at love.

"Something similar, yes," Emily whispered, for it was all the voice she had.

When the carriage came to a stop, she stepped into the sunlight without another word and hurried upstairs to her room. She needed to be alone to further clear her thoughts, or better yet, to even understand them.

Emily closed the door behind her, then turned around and rested her hands on the bed as she took heaving breaths in and out. Tears poured over her cheeks, and she did not stop them.

What was wrong with her? She finally had the truth she had always wanted to know, but at what cost? She had the relief of knowing where she came from, a cast-off child from a nobleman's affair. But there would be a new all-encompassing anxiety that accompanied her the rest of her days with that truth, for she would have to keep such things hidden forever. Else she would ruin the lives of everyone around her, everyone she cared for.

Perhaps the duke and duchess would be fine if her parentage came to light, but when Mr. Westcott's face appeared in her mind, it made her second guess the notion. If the truth got out, he would have to dismiss her, exile her, for his own reputation. He could not have a bastard for a wife and still be accepted amongst society, and she did not want to bring that shame to his name. They had already suffered a difficult start to their marriage; she could not bring another obstacle to the table .

Emily's arms crumbled to the bed, making her turn onto her back and wipe her eyes. It was the only option—she would have to take the secret to her death. But what to do with Mr. Westcott? Their precarious marriage could only take so much. He had promised that she would be well-treated, but he would do so without love. Could she survive this secret and a loveless marriage?

Emily knew she could not.

But there was an option she had not considered. The dowager duchess, in her own arranged marriage, said she had lived apart from her husband.

If there was no way out, no divorce and no annulment, and if the man could not love her, even without knowing her true identity, then it would be better for them to do the same. Her husband might never come to love her, but she knew it would be all too easy for her to fall in love with him. It would save her the potential future of a broken heart, and it would save him the possible scandal of an illegitimate wife. She did not know him all that well yet, but she did care about him enough to know he did not deserve this from her.

Now she had to find a way to save them both.