Dillie and her sisters exchanged startled looks. In truth, she had expected to hear some nonsense about his dallying with a married woman. Or a complaint about his being tightfisted with her allowance. But this—this surprised her.
“The mother’s a nobody, but that doesn’t excuse my son’s actions. He simply wrenched the child from the poor woman’s arms, turning a deaf ear to her pleas.” She paused to heighten the effect, and appeared a little disappointed when no one uttered a disparaging comment. In truth, Dillie was in shock. Her sisters were as well. Not even Laurel could fashion a response. “Can one blame the poor young woman for what she did next?” she continued.
Rose was the first to find her voice. “What did she do?”
Ian’s mother shook her head and sighed. “It is never easy for a woman to lose her child, but my son showed no mercy. That is so like him. Cold, cruel. He abandoned her to fend for herself. She had nowhere to go, no funds or family to take her in. She’s dead now—”
Dillie gasped.
Daisy grasped her hand and gave it a little squeeze. She supposed the gesture was meant to calm her. Perhaps it was meant to convey doubt about the dowager’s tale, for what sort of mother spilled gossip to strangers about her own son? Dillie wasn’t certain about the reason, but she was glad for her sister’s touch. That was Daisy in a nutshell. The thoughtful middle child, the conciliator. Daisy also knew how hurtful lies about one’s honor could be, for she’d endured a tarnish to her own good reputation. Fortunately, Gabriel had seen beyond the lies and fallen in love with her. They’d had their happy ending.
She knew Ian would never have his happy ending, not if he continued on his current path. But how could she get him off that path? He didn’t trust women. She glanced at the dowager. Her eyes were avidly gleaming, as though preparing for another attack.
She sighed inwardly. This woman had shaped Ian, doomed him to loneliness.
“My son will deny responsibility for her sad fate, just as he’s denied responsibility for the other deaths he’s caused.”
“Other deaths?” Dillie repeated, her entire body now numb.
“Celestia, enough,” someone angrily spoke from behind Dillie. She didn’t need to turn around to recognize Eloise’s gentle but commanding voice. That she’d referred to the dowager by her given name, and not Your Grace or other courtesy title, meant she was beyond angry. She was livid.
“Lady Dayne, so nice to see you.” Rose leaned forward to buss her cheek.
Dillie did the same, adding a quick hug, for she was glad to have her join them and take Ian’s mother to task. Eloise was the voice of reason. Eloise was all things kind and gentle. Yet, she was no fool. If Ian had done wrong, she would have been the first one to take him to task for it. “You don’t know any of the facts. He’s your son. Hear him out before you encourage the ugly gossip.”
“Do you think I wish these horrid rumors to be true?” Ian’s mother put a hand to her throat as though pained. Again, the cold gleam of her eyes proved otherwise. “He brings it upon himself. He shames our noble family. He’s destroyed our good family name.”
She added something more, but Dillie couldn’t hear it. The Wakeford ballroom was now packed to the rafters with guests and much too noisy to continue discussion of this delicate subject. An elegantly clad couple bumped into her as they passed by, tossing apologies as they moved through the sea of bodies.
Noise and laughter filled Dillie’s ears so that her head began to spin. She could hardly hear Ian’s mother and the bitter words she was still spewing. “I cannot bear to speak of him,” she continued, her voice half lost amid the growing din. “The mere thought of him, of his wanton ways and casual disregard of others, reduces me to tears.”
However, Dillie noticed that she’d shed no tears. Was she being unfair to the dowager? Years of sorrow could have drained her of all feeling, wrung her out so completely that she had no more tears left to shed.
People don’t change, Dillie reminded herself, struggling to shake off the dread that threatened to overwhelm her. Ian was either the worst human being alive, or horribly wronged. Was it possible that Ian had fathered a child? It would explain his fascination with Ivy. He’d been watching her play with the child several weeks ago at Daisy’s house. He had definitely been studying them. Perhaps hoping to learn how to be a father?
Dillie exchanged desperate glances with her sisters. Were they thinking the same thing? They’d talk privately later, preferably after Dillie had spoken to Ian. He deserved to be heard, and she had so many questions to ask him. Would he bring the child to London? Was the child in London now? Was the child really his?