A Momentary Marriage(61)

“That could explain his dislike of you.”

“It could,” James allowed. “But more likely, it’s because I’m not Sir Laurence’s son.”





chapter 23


A stunned silence followed his words. “I—what?” Laura said at last.

James shifted his position, glancing away. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually . . . I shouldn’t . . . oh, the devil, I don’t know why I told you.”

“Because it’s the truth?” Laura suggested.

“Yes, well, that’s usually the reason something’s secret.”

“So you are saying that Tessa . . .”

“Had an affair. Yes.” He leaned his head back, looking even more weary. “No doubt you can guess the father.”

Laura began to shake her head. “How would I—” She stopped, sucking in a quick breath. “Not—Graeme’s father? Are you saying Reginald was . . .”

“Yes. Helps to explain the close family resemblance, doesn’t it?”

“I—I don’t know what to say.”

“Not much to say.” He edged away, folding his arms. “I hope you will not think too badly of Tessa. I shouldn’t have told you; I’m usually better at minding my tongue.”

“I’m sure you are. I have no right to judge Tessa.” She paused, but couldn’t hold back her words. “It’s just—Mirabelle is her sister.”

“To be fair, Reginald was not yet married to Mirabelle at the time. Tessa and Sir Laurence had one of their usual rows, and she left him in London and stormed back to Grace Hill. There was the future Lord Montclair just down the road, a bachelor with an eye for the ladies and a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. Mother had done her dynastic duty by producing a son and heir in Vincent. Where was the harm, Reginald doubtless thought. Tessa’s reasoning would have been that it would serve Laurence right for being so heartless.

“A few months later, Aunt Mirabelle came to visit her sister and Reginald met her. Mirabelle hadn’t even made her debut. I presume he realized he’d found a better version of the same woman—although no doubt my mother would claim that Reginald settled for her sister, knowing he couldn’t have her.”

“Or Graeme’s father was just a rake who liked beautiful women.”

“That, too. And Tessa is a woman who likes being liked.” He shrugged. “My parents, or rather, Sir Laurence and Tessa, were the worst possible people to be married. Absolute opposites.”

“It was a loveless marriage?”

James let out a bark of mirthless laughter. “Hardly. They were altogether too much in love. He was mad for her till the end. Anyone could see that. But they were nothing alike, and they brought out the worst in each other. Sir Laurence was a true de Vere, cold and logical, with, as Lady Eugenia would say, a deplorable talent for making money. My mother has little use for logic, and while she finds money useful for purchasing things, I think she believes it falls from the sky like manna.”

“Ah. I see. They argued over money.”

“Among a vast number of things. Sir Laurence was harsh and demanding; she was flighty and unreasonable. But at the base of it, it was all about one thing—love. Mother is an inveterate flirt. She lives to be admired, to beguile. Clearly there have been times when she went beyond flirtation, how often I don’t know and frankly don’t care to. Sir Laurence was jealous.”

“It makes a bad combination.”

“Bizarrely enough, in most ways he was much like me.”

Laura suspected that the truth was more that James had modeled himself on the man he thought was his father, but she said nothing.

“He was ruled by his head, not his heart. He couldn’t understand Mother’s vagaries, her moods, her love of drama and passion. His one passion was her, and in that he was trapped. Hopelessly lost.”

“Something you never wanted to be.”

“Something I am not, and I thank God for it.” His gaze slid over to her and away. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

“It does much to explain the gulf between you and Claude—between you and all of them. Have you always known?”

He shook his head. “When I was young, I thought Sir Laurence was my father. There was no reason not to, and everyone spoke of how alike we were. I had his head for numbers, his impatience, his . . . aloofness.” He slanted a wry glance at her. “You may find it hard to believe, but I was not a loving child.”

“No? I’m surprised. I would have thought you had a dog you loved.”

“I did.” James’s face lit up. “Maggie. I was three years old and scarcely reached her shoulders. She adopted me; I think I was more her pet than the other way round. Everyone else was terrified of her. Nurse nearly had apoplexy when I brought her into my room. But there was no budging Mags once she’d set her mind to something.”