'Twas the Night After Christmas (24 page)

“But you’ll have to marry one day,” she pointed out.

“Why? So I can bear an heir to continue my cursed family line? No, thank you. It can die with me, as far as I’m concerned.”

She gave him a sad look. “I see. You’re not marrying because you want to punish her.”

“I don’t want to punish anyone,” he snapped. He didn’t need to ask who “her” was.

“Don’t you? It’s the only way to strike back at her for what she did. If you don’t marry and don’t have children, then she has no grandchildren to look after her in her old age.”

“Given how little of my life she took part in, I wouldn’t think she’d
want
grandchildren.”

That was partly true. But what Camilla said made a certain sense, too.
Was
that the real reason he’d balked at marriage? To keep from giving Mother grandchildren?

No, the idea was absurd. He couldn’t be that petty, surely.

Thrusting the lowering picture of himself from his mind, he leaned toward where Jasper was drinking up every sight in the paddock from his perch on the fence. The same sense of familiarity
hit Pierce again, but he ignored it. There must be hundreds of these paddocks in fairs across England.

“Which of the horses do you like best, lad?” he asked Jasper. “The black gelding perhaps? Or the gray stallion?”

“I like the little brown one over there,” Jasper said, pointing to a Shetland.

“Ah, the pony. I have a Welsh pony in my stables at Montcliff. You should ride it sometime.”

“He doesn’t know how,” Camilla said.

“Why don’t you teach him?”

“Because I don’t know how, either.”

Pierce gaped at her. “You don’t know how to
ride
?”

She eyed him askance. “Until six months ago, I lived in London all my life. I didn’t need to ride there. Mostly I walked. If my destination was too far away, there was always some equipage to take me long distances.”

“But when you were a child, surely—” He broke off, cursing himself for being oblivious. “No, I don’t suppose there are many mounts for children in an orphanage.”

“None, actually,” she said with clearly pretend nonchalance.

He always forgot how different her life had been from his. And suddenly it seemed a damned shame. “You should ride at Montcliff.”

“Someone would have to teach me. Besides, I spend my days with your mother, and she has difficulty riding.” Her tone turned wistful. “No, I think riding isn’t destined to be one of my abilities.”

“The hell it isn’t.
I’ll
show you how to ride.”

She uttered a sharp laugh. “You’re returning to London soon, remember?”

And you’ll be going with me.

He’d nearly said it aloud. Damn it, but he couldn’t let go of the idea of making her his mistress. It tantalized and intoxicated him. Ah, the things he could teach her, introduce to her . . . do with her.

And the first thing would be to buy her whatever damned horse she desired. She’d be a glorious rider; he was sure of it. He could easily imagine her riding to hounds, her hair streaming out behind her and her cheeks flushing with pleasure.

But first he had to convince her to go with him, and that would take some doing.

“Mama can’t ride—her spectacles would fall off,” Jasper announced. “But
I
want to learn.”

“Of course you do,” Pierce said, biting back a smile. “And you shall. I’ll speak to Fowler about it.” He cast her a long glance. “About both of you learning.”

“Pierce—” she began in a low voice.

“Good morning, my lord, and welcome!” cried the horse trader, who’d finished with his customer and had now spotted Pierce. The man hurried up to them. “Looking for another horse to buy?”

“Perhaps, Whitley,” he said with a smile. “My cousin was quite pleased with the purchase I made for her. So was her new husband.”

“Good, good. That bay mare was an excellent choice. Glad she went to a good home.”

Pierce laid his hand on Jasper’s shoulder. “We’re here because my young friend Master Jasper wanted to see your stock.”

“Did you, now, lad?” Whitley said with a toothy smile. “And are you fond of horses?”

Jasper’s eyes were huge. “I like that pony over there.”

“I see,” Whitley said with a covert glance at Pierce, who nodded. “Would you like to try it out for me? I could use an expert opinion.”

“He’s not old enough,” Camilla broke in.

“Nonsense.” Pierce patted her hand. “I’d been riding for a year by the time I was his age.”

“I don’t know, Pierce, I—” Realizing she’d used his Christian name, she said quickly, “My lord, perhaps it would be better if he just looked.”

Whitley was a sharp fellow and instantly assessed the situation. “It’s a good pony, madam. The young master would get great enjoyment out of it.”

She blinked. “Oh, I’m not planning on purchasing—”

“The boy wants a ride, that’s all.” Pierce cast Whitley a warning glance. Later Pierce could point out to her the advantages to being his mistress, for Jasper as well as her. But no need to spook her now.

Pierce looked at Jasper. “Would you like to ride the pony?”

“Oh, yes, my lord. Ever so much.”

“Good, then it’s settled.”

Camilla’s grip tightened on Pierce’s arm. “Are you sure he’ll be all right?”

“He’ll be fine just riding about the paddock, won’t he,
Whitley?” Pierce said in a voice that conveyed what would happen if the boy was harmed.

“I’ll treat him like me own, madam,” Whitley said, obviously used to anxious mamas. He helped Jasper down from the fence, then ordered his youthful helper to fetch the pretty little Shetland from the pen. As Whitley brought Jasper over to the pony, Pierce felt that same persistent nagging at his memory.

It wasn’t because he’d bought a horse from Whitley; that had happened in a barn. It was this particular situation—a paddock and a boy going to ride.

“Oh, I do hope Jasper doesn’t get frightened,” Camilla said. “He’s so young.”

He scarcely heard her. “Camilla,” he said as his mind sifted through his memories. “I think I might have ridden a horse at this fair, too, years ago.”

She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“When I came here with Mother. I remember it.” More of the past came into his mind, and he closed his eyes, trying to summon up the scene. “She told me . . . yes . . . she said she wanted to purchase a real horse for me. Not a pony.”

His eyes shot open. “No, that can’t be right. It was only after spending so much time at the stud farm that I started enjoying riding. Before that, while I was still at home, I wasn’t fond of it and Mother knew that. She would never have considered buying me a larger horse.”

“Then why would she have said it?” Camilla glanced over to where Jasper now sat in the saddle, looking like a sultan on the throne, his hat perched rakishly to one side. Apparently reassured
that he was all right, she added, “Why would she have had you ride at all, if not to try out a horse for purchase?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just remember being led around the paddock while Mother watched.” He caught his breath as memories flooded him. “No, she didn’t only watch. She argued with her cousin.”

“Her cousin?”

“A second cousin, if I remember right.” He shook his head. “I’d forgotten all about that. He was standing near the fence. At the time, I didn’t think it odd, but now . . . Why was Mother’s cousin at the fair? To my knowledge, he didn’t live nearby.”

“You’re sure it was him?”

He nodded. “I’d met him at Grandfather Gilchrist’s funeral tea when I was six. One of Mother’s aunts introduced us. I only knew him as Mr. Gilchrist. That day at the fair, Mr. Gilchrist stormed off before I was done riding, and when I asked Mother about it she said they were arguing because he wanted to buy the horse, too. Only . . . ”

Oh, God.

“Only what?” she prodded.

“I never made the connection before—it was so long ago. But a few days later, he showed up at Montcliff. I heard a servant tell Father that Mother’s cousin was waiting for him in the drawing room. Father went in and Mother followed him, and there was a great row with the man. I couldn’t hear what it was about.”

His stomach clenched, just as it had then. “But I do remember that Father was furious. He threw Gilchrist out and ordered him never to return. Said he wasn’t welcome at Montcliff.”

Camilla shot a quick glance to where Jasper was waving at her. She waved back as she asked in a low voice, “Did your parents explain what the problem was?”

“I asked Father. He told me to mind my own affairs.” A chill swept through him. “Since he was always saying that, I thought it was just grown-up business. He’d always hated Mother’s family. But now I wonder if it might have been more than that.”

“Why?”

“Because just a few weeks later, I was packed off to school. And I didn’t see my father again for thirteen years.”

C
amilla stared at Pierce, worried by the way he’d turned still as stone. Glancing over to where her son was happily riding, she forced a smile for him, but her blood was pounding so fiercely she could hardly keep her countenance. The same idea as before leaped into her head, but this time she felt she should mention it.

“Have you considered the fact . . . ” She paused, wondering how someone suggested such a thing to an earl. “Is it possible that—”

“I’m not my father’s son?” he finished in a strangled voice.

She nodded.

“I never considered it before.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, once, twice. “But it would make sense. It would explain why he hated me, why he banished me from my home after that day
Gilchrist came to see him. Perhaps Mother’s cousin knew who the man was. Gilchrist might have tried to blackmail her or threatened to go to the scandal sheets with his knowledge if Father didn’t pay him.”

“Or Gilchrist might himself have
been
the man.”

He sucked in a breath. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Cousins are often thrown together. Look at you and your Waverly cousins. He might have seen her at any family affair.”

“Except that I was definitely born after my parents married—ten months after the wedding.” He blinked. “Or so I’ve always been told. But a few weeks might have been glossed over. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that I was born earlier than they said. And that’s easier to swallow than the possibility that Mother—”

“I know. It doesn’t seem like her to break her marriage vows.”

He cast her an earnest glance. “You’ve considered this before.”

She reddened under his gaze. “Only after she told me that your father kept her from you. But you look so much like him.”

“That’s what everyone says. I can’t see it, though. Aside from our coloring being the same, I don’t think we look alike in any other way.”

She wasn’t so sure about that. She’d have to get another look at his father’s portrait. And portraits weren’t always true, either. “Still, I just can’t imagine that your mother . . . would take a lover.”

“Nor can I. She would have risked much to have an affair. If I am a bastard, I had to have been conceived before the marriage. And he would have known she wasn’t a virgin on their wedding night.”

“There are ways to . . . well . . . ”

“Yes, I know. To disguise it. Because surely if he’d guessed it then, he wouldn’t have waited until I was eight to banish me.” He drew in a deep breath. “And there’s another flaw in this theory.”

“What’s that?” she asked. Mr. Whitley was drawing the pony to a stop; it appeared that Jasper’s ride was just about over.

“I can see how Father would hold her sin over her to keep us apart, especially if I wasn’t his son and he couldn’t stand the sight of me. But why did she go along so completely? She never wrote, never visited. I didn’t see her for thirteen years.”

“Perhaps he threatened to divorce her.”

He stared blindly at the horses. “Divorces aren’t easy to gain, especially if he had no proof that he’d been cuckolded. And it would have created a huge scandal, even if it could be done. He wasn’t fond of scandal, trust me.”

“Besides,” she said, “given the choice between a divorce and losing her son, I can’t imagine your mother choosing to lose you, especially if the earl wasn’t really your father. Although if she knew she couldn’t support you . . . ”

“All right, let’s say he threatened to divorce her and leave us both destitute. She might have done as he demanded to prevent that, but it would only have worked until I was grown. Once I reached my majority, I inherited money from my grandmother, and that would have kept us both comfortable enough until Father died and I could inherit the estate.”

“Could he have threatened to disinherit you?”

“No. The estate is entailed, and both it and the title go to his heir. The law says that his heir is the eldest son born into the
marriage, and I was born on the right side of the blanket. Even if he divorced her, I would have inherited everything eventually.” His voice grew choked. “So why would he let the bastard he hated inherit, while he got rid of the wife he wanted to keep under his thumb? No, divorce couldn’t have been what he threatened.”

“He must have threatened
something
to make her comply.”