Bedding The Baron (19 page)

“It was hardly a difficult task. I have encountered chimney sweeps who could offer a greater threat.”

“And no doubt could offer a great deal more sense,” the older man muttered. “Griffith and his friends are decidedly stupid young men who have been ruined by too much wealth and too few responsibilities.”

Although there was no mention of Simon, his name hung in the air with a silent rebuke.

“They are like most dandies that litter London.”

“Which is one of the many reasons I prefer the quiet of this estate. I cannot abide frivolous fools who have nothing better to do than bother decent citizens who actually contribute to society.”

“Decent citizens?” Fredrick gave a lift of his brows as he deliberately caught and held his father’s gaze. “Well, there are not many who consider me decent. I am, after all, a bastard, am I not?”

If Fredrick had not been watching his father so closely he would easily have missed his small jerk.

“You are a gentleman who has claimed a position of respect.”

“Perhaps among some, but society will always hold me in contempt for my shameful birth.”

Lord Graystone’s expression settled in the cool, wary lines that were so familiar to Fredrick.

“I realize it must be difficult for you, Fredrick,” he said, his tone warning that he was not pleased with the direction of the conversation.

For eight and twenty years Fredrick had instinctively obeyed that unspoken command. Even as a child he had understood that his father would tolerate his presence only so long as he did not step beyond the boundaries. Today, however, he did not hesitate to challenge the man who had deliberately stolen his birthright.

“No, Father, I do not believe that you could possibly realize just what it means to be a bastard,” he grated.

The older nobleman stiffened, no doubt considering his usual habit of simply abandoning his son when he decided the conversation did not suit him.

“Perhaps not entirely, but I was a younger son without prospects until my brother’s unexpected death,” he retorted, his voice edged with ice. “I always expected to make my own way in the world.”

Fredrick gave a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “God almighty, you desire to compare being a younger son to that of bastard?” Pushing away from the mantle he paced restlessly across the room. “Tell me, Father, just how many society matrons have given you the cut direct when you meet on the street? And how many noblemen seek you out to invest in your business at the same moment they are discreetly warning their daughters to have nothing to do with you? On how many occasions have you walked past gentlemen clubs with the certain knowledge that the members would more readily welcome a leper than you within their hallowed grounds?” Coming to a halt he glared into the pale, grimly impassive features. “No, Father, you have no notion of what I have endured.”

Astonishingly, a hint of genuine anger flashed in the pale blue eyes. Lord Graystone was always so careful to keep his emotions hidden it was nearly as shocking as if he had sprouted wings and flown about the room.

“Your lot was not as bad as it could have been, Fredrick. You at least were given an education and the opportunity to succeed.”

Just a few hours before, Fredrick might have agreed. There were any number of bastards who never managed to crawl out of the gutters they were tossed in. He, at least, had been given into the care of Dunnington, who had given him the skills he needed to survive.

And, more importantly, the affection that a young, unwanted boy was starved for.

Now, however, he was painfully aware of all that had been stolen from him.

“Hardly the same as being offered a grand estate and respectable place in society, is it?” he gritted.

The older man’s expression hardened with a soul-deep bitterness. “And you believe that being Baron is such a wondrous destiny?” His short laugh rasped through the room. “Believe me, there has not been a day that has passed when I have not paid dearly for my position as Lord Graystone. It . . . it is a yoke that has cost me everything.”

Fredrick refused to be swayed by his father’s obvious pain. Whatever the old man believed he had suffered, it could be nothing to what Fredrick had been forced to endure his entire life.

“And what has it cost you, Father?” he demanded with a deliberate lack of sympathy. “The discomfort of living with a constant lie? The fear that Dunnington might one day expose the truth and destroy your precious family?”

Lord Graystone froze, his annoyance fading as an unmistakable wariness flickered over his countenance at Fredrick’s unexpected words.

“What did you say?”

Turning his back on his father’s uneasy regard, Fredrick paced toward the window. “Do you wish to know the true reason I came to Wessex?”

“I . . . I think perhaps dinner should . . .”

Fredrick abruptly turned. “I came here to solve a mystery.”

“Did you?” Still clutching his glass, Lord Graystone made his way toward the door. “I believe that dinner is waiting. Mrs. Shaw will be disappointed if we are late.”

With a speed that caught his father off-guard, Fredrick moved to stand directly in his path, forcing the older man to halt or run him over.

“You see, when Dunnington died he left behind a peculiar legacy,” he ruthlessly continued. “A legacy of twenty thousand pounds.”

He had to give his father credit, Fredrick grimly acknowledged. There was barely more than a whisper of fear before he was coolly smoothing the superfine fabric of his pearl grey jacket.

“Congratulations, my son. It is a most generous gift.”

“Yes, it was,” Fredrick drawled. “A gift that Dunnington claimed was given to him by you.”

“I, of course, paid for your schooling . . .”

“No, Father, this was not my tuition. This was extortion money. A bribe to keep your dark secret just that.” He leaned deliberately forward. “A secret.”

“That is absurd.”

“Is it?”

“Of course.” He gave a dismissive lift of his hands. “I have no secrets, dark or otherwise.”

Fredrick curled his lips in a cold smile. “If that is true then perhaps you will join me tomorrow at St. Mary’s in Winchester as I search the records for proof of your marriage to my mother? A marriage that Mrs. Greaves is prepared to swear took place before my birth.”

A shocked silence blanketed the room, at last broken by the shattering crystal as Lord Graystone’s glass slid from his fingers and landed on the floor.

“You . . . You spoke with Mrs. Greaves?” the older man rasped, his countenance ashen.

“Yes, a most charming widow who runs a boarding house,” Fredrick drawled. “She remembered a young teacher by the name of Dunnington, as well as you and my mother. Indeed, she remembered you in particular with remarkable clarity. She commented several times on how much we resemble one another.”

The cool, aloof composure was torn aside to reveal an aging, uncertain gentleman who was clearly disturbed to have his sins uncovered.

“Did Dunnington tell you of Mrs. Greaves?”

“Dunnington kept his promise of silence, Father,” Fredrick retorted, a pain clutching at his heart. “It was not until he died and left me his legacy that I became curious as to what dark secret could possibly be worth twenty thousand pounds. Now I know.”

The older man futilely struggled to find some means of denying the truth when he was interrupted by the entrance of the butler.

“My lord, dinner is . . .”

“Not now, Morgan,” Lord Graystone snapped, his wary gaze never leaving Fredrick’s stark expression.

The servant stiffened, something that might have been disappointment flaring over the lined countenance before he was bowing his way out of the room.

“Very good, sir.”

Waiting until the door closed, Lord Graystone drew in a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

“And what is it that you believe you know, Fredrick?”

“I know that my mother was no common tart who made a habit of littering the streets with bastards.” Fredrick folded his arms over his chest. “She was a lady, was she not?”

The older man hissed in surprise before he turned to offer Fredrick his tense profile. “Of course she was a lady.”

“Why do you seem shocked that I wouldn’t have assumed my mother was Covent Garden ware? You certainly never gave the impression she held the least amount of respect, let alone affection, in your heart. You cannot imagine my amazement when I discovered that she was my grandmother’s companion who resided in this very house.”

“Adeline,” Lord Graystone muttered.

“What?”

“That was her name,” he clarified, slowly turning to meet Fredrick’s hard gaze. “Adeline. She was so beautiful. You have her eyes. And her smile.”

Adeline. Fredrick tucked the name away, anxious to know everything possible about the woman who had given birth to him.

“She was the daughter of a doctor?”

“Yes.” The older man heaved a sigh that spoke of his inner defeat. He clearly realized that Fredrick would no longer settle for anything but the truth. A pity it was eight and twenty years too late. “She kept house for him and occasionally assisted in his surgery until he was killed in a carriage accident. After his death she was forced to seek a means to support herself.”

“How old was she?”

The pale blue eyes narrowed, as if he sensed Fredrick’s disdain for those gentlemen who took advantage of defenseless women.

“She had just turned twenty. A mere fortnight younger than myself.”

Well, at least she had not been a mere child, Fredrick acknowledged. Although she clearly had no experience with noblemen.

“And naïve enough to be seduced by the first rake to cross her path, eh?”

“I was no rake, Fredrick,” his father denied, his hand lifting to rub over his face in a weary motion. “Far from it, in fact. Adeline was the first woman, the only woman, I have ever loved. I knew from the moment I caught sight of her that I would marry her.”

Fredrick refused to be swayed by the thick sincerity in his father’s voice. “And when you caught sight of her did you also make the decision you would deny her as your wife and brand your son as a bastard?”

“I never denied . . .” Lord Graystone broke off his words with a sharp shake of his head. “Dammit, Fredrick, this is not nearly so simple as you would wish to believe.”

“No, I do not believe for a moment that it was in any way simple,” Fredrick agreed dryly. “I should think keeping a legitimate marriage a secret for eight and twenty years a very difficult task. How did you accomplish such a feat?”

With an abrupt motion, the older man paced across the room, halting at the window that overlooked the dark garden.

“I never intended to keep it a secret. It was Adeline who desired secrecy.”

Fredrick gave a disbelieving laugh. “Ah . . . of course she did.”

“It is true enough.” Lord Graystone gave a restless lift of his shoulder, his expression revealing he was lost in the past. “She possessed a remarkably soft heart and even after my mother tossed her from this estate and insisted that I be cut off without a quid, she feared the announcement of our wedding would put the old tartar in the grave.”

“Why would my grandmother be so opposed to the marriage? My mother might not have been of the highest social standing, but she was obviously respectable enough.”

“I thought at the time she was simply being her usual arrogant self. After all, she had managed to convince herself that being the wife of a baron was quite equal to possessing royal blood. She ruled over this neighborhood like a queen for over forty years, long after my father was cold in his grave,” he said slowly. “It was not until later that I realized she was desperate for her sons to wed for wealth. She understood just how close to ruin we were treading.”

Fredrick frowned. In truth it was rather easy to believe his mother might wish to avoid dealing with Lady Graystone. The old dragon would have terrified a young girl who was unaccustomed to dealing with temperamental aristocrats.

“So you never told any of your family of the wedding?”

“No, I revealed the truth only to my old groom who had been forced to remain at Oak Manor when I traveled to Winchester. I was closer to him than either my mother or brother.”

Fredrick sucked in a sharp breath, recalling Mrs. Shaw’s confession that the entire staff at Oak Manor had been hired from Winchester when his father came into the title.

“Ah, so that was why you pensioned off the old staff,” he accused in chiding tones. “You feared that your groom had shared the news with the other servants and one of them might whisper the truth in the ear of your new bride.”

Lord Graystone shifted beneath the accusation, his gaze never wavering from the window. “It was Wilhelmina’s desire to pension off the staff. She thought it would be less . . . awkward for all if she were to choose her own servants rather than training those who were loyal to the previous mistress.”

Fredrick didn’t doubt his words. The current Lady Graystone was the sort of woman who would always be conscious of her lack of noble birth and be swift to take offense to any hint she was being treated with anything less than utter deference. Still, Fredrick did not accept for a moment that his father would have allowed the loyal staff to be dismissed without his own selfish reason.

“And you did nothing to halt her?” he demanded.

A hint of color touched the pallor of his skin. “No, I did nothing to halt her. As you say, I did not wish ancient gossip to create difficulties.”

“Why?” Fredrick moved toward the older man, determined to have the answers that had been denied him for far too long. “You cannot convince me that this elaborate deception has been to spare Grandmother’s pride.”

“No, it . . .” Lord Graystone slowly turned and regarded Fredrick with grim determination. “Sit down, Fredrick, and I will attempt to explain what occurred.”

With a shrug Fredrick grabbed a bottle of brandy from the nearby side-table. “I think I shall have need of this,” he muttered before he lowered himself into a leather wing chair and met his father’s gaze with a taunting smile. “Very well, Father, explain to me why you stole my birthright.”

The older man recoiled, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side as he struggled to find the words to adequately justify his cruel betrayal.

“As you have already discovered, Adeline came to Oak Manor as a companion. My mother was bedridden and her health was considered precarious. Adeline’s experience with various medicines was invaluable.” The blue eyes became misty as Lord Graystone recalled happier days. “She was here only a few weeks when I knew beyond a doubt that we were meant to be together.”

Fredrick’s fingers tightened on the brandy bottle. He knew something of having a special, utterly perfect woman tumble into his life without warning.

“And did she feel the same?”

“She loved me, although she was more sensitive to the differences in our social positions than I. She understood the difficulties we would be forced to confront from the very beginning.”

“With good reason,” Fredrick was swift to point out. “She was the one who suffered from your relationship.”

His father frowned with a flare of annoyance. “That is not entirely fair, Fredrick. It is true that my mother dismissed Adeline when she discovered our relationship, but I stood by her side. When she was forced to leave the estate I went with her, even though it cost me my home, my family, and what little allowance I possessed.” His chin tilted as if daring Fredrick to challenge his devotion to his beloved Adeline. “I would have done anything to be at her side.”

There was an unmistakable earnestness in his father’s countenance, but Fredrick was not overly impressed. If Lord Graystone had truly loved his wife he would have honored her memory, not allowed others to believe she had given birth to an illegitimate brat.

“That is when you went to the boarding house in Winchester?” he demanded.

“Yes, I had some notion that I could find a teaching position at the college.” The older man gave a wave of his slender hands. “It was not as if I was trained to pursue a career, and I had to have some means of supporting my family. While I was pleading for a position with the headmaster I encountered Dunnington and he suggested that I rent rooms at Mrs. Greaves’ boarding house.”

Once again the mention of Dunnington brought a pain to Fredrick’s heart. Dammit, the tutor had been more a father than this man standing before him. How could he . . .

With an effort, Fredrick forced himself to concentrate upon his father’s unfolding story.

“And he also attended your wedding?”

“Yes. Adeline demanded that we have a quiet ceremony at the local church. Only Dunnington and Mrs. Greaves attended.” A small, profoundly sad smile curved his lips. “Still, it was the happiest day of my life. I had the woman I loved and a child soon to be born. If only . . .”

“If only what?”

The nobleman gave a shake of his head. “You will never believe me, but I wish that those days had never come to an end. We were happy in those cramped rooms with nothing to concern ourselves other than making ends meet.”

Fredrick battled back the instinctive flare of sympathy. By God, Lord Graystone deserved many things, but pity was not among them.

“Oh, I am certain it was all quite romantic,” he drawled.

The blue eyes flashed. “It was.”

“So what happened?”

His father struggled against his natural instinct to retreat behind his aloof composure. For nearly three decades he had refused to answer the questions that must have been upon the lips of many. Now it was clearly a painful process to speak the truth he had hidden for so long.

“First my mother died and I was forced to return to Oak Manor for the funeral.” He gave a faint grimace. “No matter what the rift was between us, she was my mother and I owed her my respect.”

“You did not bring your wife?”

The delicate features abruptly tightened with an ancient grief. “By the gods, I wish I had,” he rasped, his hand reaching out to clutch at a nearby shelf, as if his knees were no longer to be trusted. “While I was gone, Adeline fell down the stairs and was grievously injured. She regained consciousness only long enough to give birth to you. She died a few hours later.”

Fredrick took a long swig of the brandy, feeling oddly discomfited by the undisguised agony in his father’s eyes. Whatever had happened all those years ago, Fredrick was being forced to accept that his father truly cared for his mother.

“I . . . I am sorry. It must have been a very difficult time for you,” he grudgingly conceded.

“For weeks I was numb.” Lord Graystone grimaced. “I could not accept that my beloved Adeline had been stolen from me. It was simply inconceivable. And then I received word that my brother had been shot in a hunting accident.” He met Fredrick’s gaze squarely. “Within a matter of a month I had lost my mother, my wife, and my brother. Even worse, I was thrust into the position of Lord Graystone and burdened with the debacle my brother had made of the estate.”

“And what of me?” he demanded.

“I left you in the care of Mrs. Griffin while I returned to Oak Manor.”

Fredrick slowly stood, thrusting aside his brief feelings of pity.

“And while you were there you simply forgot that you were married and had a son?”

“Of course not.” His father thrust an unsteady hand through his silver hair. “I . . . it was . . .”

“What?”

With a frustrated growl, Lord Graystone paced across the carpet, his movements sharp and uneven as he struggled with the flood of emotions.

“You must understand that the estate was on the brink of ruin,” he rasped. “My brother had managed to squander his inheritance and strip the estate of everything that might hold value. There was no principal, no assets, and no capital to attempt to retrieve the fallow fields. Even the manor house was beginning to tumble into shambles.” His hand lifted to wave around the library that was now the envy of the neighborhood. “I had to find some means of staving off disaster.”

Fredrick narrowed his gaze. “You have offered a great number of excuses, Father, and far fewer explanations.”

His father hunched his shoulders, his steps slowing as he regarded Fredrick with a resigned expression.

“I just wish you to comprehend my situation. I had family and servants and tenants all depending upon me. I could not fail them, no matter what the cost to myself.” His lips twisted. “Even if it meant selling my soul to the devil.”