Not Just a Wallflower (A Season Of Secrets #2)(26)
Author: Carole Mortimer

God save him, he was surrounded by intelligent women! ‘Yes,’ he sighed.

The dowager looked down in horror at the man still prostrate upon her Aubusson rug. ‘Surely not…?’

‘Richmond seems to think not, no,’ Justin confirmed drily.

‘That is something, at least!’ His grandmother raised a relieved hand to her ample bosom.

Justin agreed wholeheartedly with that sentiment. Although he could not help questioning Richmond’s certainty on the matter.

Ellie looked dazed, having no idea what the dowager was referring to. But then, most of this past few minutes’ conversation was a complete mystery to her. ‘I still fail to see why Lord Litchfield forced his way in here uninvited this evening. What on earth was the matter?’

Justin’s mouth twisted contemptuously. ‘He obviously took severe exception to learning I had employed someone to investigate into his private affairs.’

She blinked. ‘Why would you do such a thing?’

The dowager stood up. ‘I am afraid I am partly to blame for this, Ellie.’ She ignored her grandson’s glower at her use of the shortened name. ‘I asked Justin to…to look into a certain matter for me and it would seem that this is the unfortunate result.’

Ellie was none the wiser for this explanation. ‘But surely this can have nothing to do with me?’

‘I am afraid it has everything to do with you, my dear.’ The dowager raised her hands in apology. ‘But I had no idea, when I made my request to Justin, that the matter would become so complicated.’

Again, Ellie was no nearer to understanding this conversation than she had been a few minutes ago. ‘And what request did you make of Just—the duke?’

‘I merely—I had realised—’ The dowager appeared uncharacteristically flustered as she quickly crossed the room to take both Ellie’s hands in her own. ‘There is no easy way to say this, my dear, so I shall simply state that Henry Rosewood was killed in battle exactly a year before you were born.’

Ellie literally felt all the colour drain from her cheeks as she absorbed the full import of this statement. Henry Rosewood could not have been her father.

She stumbled slightly as she pulled her hands free of the dowager’s to drop down into the armchair she had earlier refused. Tears blurred her vision as she looked up at Justin accusingly. ‘You knew about this.’ It was a statement, not a question.

A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘Yes.’

‘How long have you known?’

‘A week, no more. Eleanor—’

‘No! Don’t!’ She lifted a restraining hand as Justin would have moved to her side, grateful when he halted in his tracks. She needed to—had to somehow try to assimilate exactly what this all meant to her.

Obviously she was Muriel’s daughter. But not Henry’s. And if not Henry’s daughter, then whose—?

Her horrified gaze moved to Litchfield, who still lay unconscious upon the rug in front of the fire. No! She could not bear to be the daughter of such a dreadful man! It would be worse, even, than learning that she was illegitimate—

‘I am your father, Eleanor.’

Ellie was barely aware of the combined gasps of all the St Just family as she raised her stunned gaze to look at Lord Bryan Anderson, the Earl of Richmond.

‘I am your father, Eleanor,’ he repeated as he came down on his haunches beside her, his hazel gaze unwavering upon her face as he took the limpness of her chilled hands in his. ‘I swear to you I did not know it until a few hours ago, but I know now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I am your father. And you can have no idea how very much it pleases me that I have a daughter,’ he added emotionally, tears glistening in his eyes.

Ellie continued to stare at him for several long breathless seconds, looking for—hoping to see—some likeness to herself in his face. His eyes were a mixture of blue, green and brown, his features both strong and handsome, his hair that premature shock of white, his form both fit and muscled for a man his age.

But she saw nothing, no likeness to herself, to confirm that he was, indeed, her real father.

‘My hair was once as auburn as your own,’ the earl supplied, as if he knew her thoughts. ‘I received a severe shock in my mid-twenties, which turned my hair completely white. You see, my wife of only a few months was involved in a hunting accident, from which she never fully recovered, physically or mentally. We never had a true marriage again.’

‘So you were married when you and my mother—when the two of you—’

‘I was,’ he confirmed grimly.

Darkness started to blur the edges of her vision as the shock of it all suddenly hit her with the force of a blow, that darkness growing bigger, becoming deeper, as she felt herself begin to slip away.

‘Out of my way, Richmond!’ she heard Justin shout, before strong arms encircled her just as the darkness completely engulfed her and she collapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *

‘For goodness’ sake, stop your infernal pacing, Justin, and go up to the girl if that is what you wish to do!’

Justin made no effort to cease his ‘infernal pacing’ as he shot his grandmother a narrow-eyed glare. ‘I am the last person Eleanor wishes to see just now.’

‘Nonsense!’ the dowager dismissed briskly. ‘Once she is over the shock she will be gratified to know she is the daughter of an earl—’

‘The illegitimate daughter of an earl!’

‘I am sure Richmond will wish to acknowledge her as his own.’

‘Whether he does or he does not, I very much doubt that Eleanor will thank any of us for our part in this,’ Justin muttered dully. ‘In just a few short minutes she has gone from believing her father to be Henry Rosewood, to that reprobate Dryden Litchfield, only to finally learn that her father is actually the Earl of Richmond.’

Doctor Franklyn had been called to attend to Eleanor, first giving a minute of his time to declare that Litchfield was only suffering from a badly bruised jaw from Richmond’s blow. After which Justin and Richmond had both very much enjoyed telling that obnoxious gentleman exactly why it was he would not be talking of this evening’s events, or those of the past, to anyone. The information they had both gathered, on Litchfield’s behaviour this past twenty years or more, was more than enough to put him behind bars if charges were levelled against him, several other reputable ladies having also suffered at his brutal treatment. Knowledge they would prefer did not become known to the public, but which they would quite happily testify to in private, if necessary.

As for Eleanor, this last few minutes was too much for any young woman to accept with equanimity. Damn it, he was having trouble coming to terms with Richmond as her father, so how could she possibly be expected to do so!

Nor, knowing her as he did, would she easily forgive his own part in keeping such knowledge from her.

Justin had carried Eleanor upstairs after she had fainted, and she was upstairs in her bedchamber even now, being attended to by Dr Franklyn and watched over like a protective hawk with its newly hatched chick by Bryan Anderson.

By her real father…who had a lot more authority to be there than Justin did.

The earl had spared only enough time, as they waited in Eleanor’s bedchamber for the doctor to arrive, to tell them all briefly how it had come about.

Richmond’s own enquiries into the events in India twenty years ago had resulted in more than just the damning information he had gathered on Dryden Litchfield. He had received a letter earlier this evening, from the wife of a fellow officer who had also been a particular friend of Muriel Rosewood, in which she had stated that Muriel had given birth to a baby girl exactly nine months after leaving India. Exactly nine months after Bryan Anderson had spent a single night with Muriel before she sailed back to England.

‘Do not judge him too harshly, Justin,’ his mother now advised as she placed her hand gently on his arm. ‘He had already lived five years of hell with his deranged wife when this occurred. It is all too easy, during wars and hardship, for such things as this to occur. And let us not forget that Lord Anderson offered Muriel refuge in his own home following Litchfield’s attack upon her.’

‘Before then bedding her himself!’

‘Eventually, yes,’ she allowed. ‘But you know him well enough to realise it would not have been without her consent. And, as a woman, I can tell you exactly why Muriel would have welcomed the attentions of a gentleman such as Bryan Anderson. She needed his physical reassurance, that pleasanter memory, to take home with her to England after suffering Litchfield’s brutality.’

‘It would seem that she took far more than a pleasant memory back to England with her!’ Justin’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

His mother nodded. ‘And decided, quite admirably, that it was not fair to tell Richmond of the child she was expecting. Think, Justin, of the dilemma it would have placed him in if he had known, how he would then be torn between loyalty to his deranged wife and the woman who was now the mother of his daughter. I am sorry I did not know Muriel better when she was married to Frederick, as she is to be commended for her unselfish actions twenty years ago. She and Richmond were not in love, after all, had merely been thrown together in adverse circumstances, which then led to the birth of a daughter.’

Justin sighed. ‘I am not the one who will need convincing of the rightness or otherwise of that, Mama.’ Eleanor was his only concern in this matter. A tenderness of feeling he knew was not returned—indeed, he had every reason to think that she now wished him to Hades for his part in keeping the truth of the past from her!

Certainly he had not been the first person she had asked for once she had recovered from her faint. No, Richmond had that honour.

‘As this seems to be an evening of confessions…’

Justin’s lids narrowed as he glanced sharply at his grandmother. ‘What other deep dark secrets are we to be made privy to now?’

The dowager pursed her lips. ‘I am afraid I was not completely truthful with you last week regarding my own health, my boy.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘It was all a ruse, was it not, Grandmama? Another effort on your part to persuade me into residing at Royston House once more? To eventually get used to the idea of matrimony?’

The dowager’s eyes widened. ‘You knew all the time?’

‘I was certain that was the case, yes,’ he allowed with a wry smile. ‘You hadn’t allowed anyone else to be present in the room, even Eleanor, during Dr Franklyn’s visits. Nor am I so lacking in intelligence that I did not see the vast improvement in your health within hours of my having moved back here. Tell me, Grandmama, how did you achieve the effect of the whitened cheeks that night you sent for me?’

The dowager gave a sniff of satisfaction. ‘A little extra face powder was most convincing, I thought.’

‘Oh, most,’ Justin conceded drily. ‘No doubt your letters to my mother these past months, informing her of Eleanor’s introduction into society, and my own presence back at Royston House, were also part of your machinations?’

‘You are being impolite, Justin!’ The dowager looked suitably affronted.

‘But truthful?’

‘Perhaps,’ she allowed airily.

He grinned. ‘Well I am sorry to disappoint you, Grandmama, but my own reasons for moving back to Royston House had absolutely nothing to do with your pretence of ill health.’

‘I am well aware of it.’ She gave an imperious nod of her head.

He raised his brows. ‘You are?’

‘Oh, yes.’ She smiled smugly.

‘Grandmama—’ He broke off as Dr Franklyn appeared in the doorway of the Blue Salon where they all waited for news of Eleanor. ‘Well, man, do not just stand there, tell us how she is!’ Justin barked.

‘Miss Rosewood is quite recovered now,’ the doctor assured. ‘And she shows no signs of suffering any lasting effects from her faint.’

‘And?’ Justin scowled darkly.

‘And what, your Grace?’ the doctor replied.

‘Did she not ask for—for anyone?’ he pressed urgently.

The doctor’s brow cleared. ‘Ah, yes, I believe she did ask if she might speak with—’ Justin had already left the room, taking the stairs two steps at a time, before the doctor had finished his statement ‘—the dowager.’

Chapter Eighteen

Ellie was quite unprepared for the way Justin burst into her bedchamber, only seconds after the doctor had departed.

‘What do you mean by entering Ellie’s bedchamber uninvited, Royston?’ Richmond frowned his disapproval of the younger man’s actions.

To say this past hour had been…life-changing for her would be to severely understate the matter. To learn that Henry Rosewood, a man she had never known, was not her father after all and that Lord Bryan Anderson, the Earl of Richmond, was, had come as a complete shock to her.

But once she had got used to the idea, it was actually a pleasant one.

She should perhaps continue to be shocked, distraught, and take weeks, if not months, to acclimatise herself to the things she had learnt this evening, to all that Lord Anderson had gently explained had befallen her poor mother in India twenty years ago.

Except Ellie found she could not summon any of those emotions…

It had always been difficult for her to feel anything more than respect and affection for the man who had died before she was even born, and Frederick St Just had never been more to her than her mother’s second husband, a man with whom Muriel was so obviously not happy. For Ellie to now learn that she had a father, after all, and such a well-liked and respected man as the Earl of Richmond, was, she now realised, more wonderful than she could have imagined.

It had also given her hope that perhaps her changed circumstances, despite her illegitimacy, meant that she and Justin were not so socially far apart as she had always believed them to be. The earl had already told her he was going to publicly acknowledge her as his daughter and he was influential enough to carry off the scandal with aplomb.