“Ha! We rule!” Joan cried.
His eyes flashed to hers, startled.
“You can’t be taking that metric seriously,” she said to him, certain that if she offered even a hint of sympathy or pity, he would be completely mute on the subject thereafter. “Your father is portrayed all over England as a middle-aged Romeo not quite stupid enough to kill himself for love.”
Something eased in his shoulders.
“You do acknowledge that he’s a rum duke? My father calls him an addlepate, and generally he’s not harsh about adulterers.” She sighed theatrically. “For obvious reasons, given that my mother, his second duchess, is a famous member of that circle. What’s more, Aunt Knowe told me that your father is a debauchee, and your mother was well shot of him.”
Thaddeus was staring at the blue cloth, his brows knit.
“Are your feelings hurt?” Joan asked.
“Not at all.” He sounded unruffled, but when he looked up at her, his eyes had darkened to stormy blue. “I’ve spent the past two years fighting off my father’s determined attempts to ensure that his other son—the one whose birthday I share—can inherit.”
Joan’s mouth fell open. “Is he cracked? That’s impossible.”
Thaddeus’s mouth twisted. “You’d be surprised.”
“But—but the English inheritance system is all about marriage. Who was born first, who was born in wedlock. You were born first, and the other son, whoever he is, is the product of an illicit liaison between a duke and his mistress!”
“Perhaps,” Thaddeus said. He reached for the bottle of wine and splashed more in his cup. “My father believes the system is immoral, and he is bringing everything he has to the fight. Luckily, the estate is entailed.”
“My father’s right,” Joan exclaimed. “Your father is a chuckleheaded fool.” She paused. “Actually, it is rare that my father isn’t right. It’s one of the most annoying things about being a member of the Wilde family.”
Thaddeus looked at her, and she was shocked by the intensity in his eyes. “But as I understand, your father is a Prussian.”
She shook her head, smiling. “Oh, no. My father is Hugo Wilde, Duke of Lindow. There’s never been any doubt in my mind.”
“I see,” Thaddeus said.
“Not that the Prussian in question didn’t make a contribution,” she offered. “The second duchess and he left me in the cradle and ran away together. But my father and Aunt Knowe loved me twice as much. I always knew I was loved, and that was enough. Really, that’s all a child wants to know.”
Thaddeus drank his wine. Joan watched his powerful throat move and pushed away an inconvenient wish to misbehave.
“Isn’t it odd that both of our parents behaved like lovelorn fools?” she offered. “I should have chosen Romeo and Juliet for my debut on the stage. The bottle’s empty, so if you hope to drown your sorrows, we’ll have to row back for another.”
“My mother loves me,” Thaddeus stated.
“Obviously.”
“My father can’t bear me.” His voice was utterly flat. “The feeling is mutual. He’s an emotional clown, who cannot believe I refuse to stand aside and allow true love to win. He accuses me of greed, intolerance, and far worse.”
“I actually don’t believe that you can simply give up a dukedom,” Joan said, frowning. “North wanted to do it, you know. I can’t remember how he’s getting around it, but Aunt Knowe said something once that made me think his plan was impossible. More importantly, even if you did give up the title, it would never go to a bastard child. Given your lack of siblings, the title would revert to a cousin.”
Thaddeus’s lips thinned. “My father claims that he married his mistress before he married my mother, which would make me illegitimate.”
Joan sucked in a breath. “No!” She instinctively moved toward him and put a hand on his arm. “Does he have any proof?”
“He says that he could present the proof if necessary,” Thaddeus said, “but to this point he has declined to do so.”
“Absurd!” Joan cried indignantly. “Make him show you those marriage lines, because I’d guess they’re forged.”
Thaddeus’s mouth eased into a smile. “My solicitors agree. Unfortunately, the claim, and the process of disproving it, would be dreadful for my mother.”
Joan thought of the dear, pink-clothed duchess. There was nothing strong about her. She was Aunt Knowe’s closest friend, but they couldn’t be more different.
Aunt Knowe faced the world like Joan’s own namesake, Joan of Arc. The Duchess of Eversley was quiet and shy. She still giggled like a girl. Joan hadn’t known her long but she knew instinctively that the duchess would be devastated if her estranged husband told the world their marriage had never existed.
“That’s horrible,” she breathed.
“My mother wouldn’t leave the house again,” Thaddeus said flatly. “Not even once the courts proved his claim to be a lie, which it certainly is. The humiliation would be too acute.”
“He must be mad,” Joan stated.
“Indeed, he might have an illness of the brain. He is obsessed. Ruining his bloodline, squandering the duchy: none of it matters more to him than legitimizing my half brother.”
Joan knew about that type of illness. When she was a girl, one of her brother Alaric’s admirers had become dangerous in her passionate pursuit of him.
She cleared her throat. “Aunt Knowe still visits a family acquaintance who lives in retirement, due to her inability to recognize reality.”
Thaddeus raised an eyebrow.
“The lady in question firmly believes that she’s married to Alaric, and they have a child on the way. Meanwhile, my brother hasn’t seen her in four or five years. Aunt Knowe says that she lives in a fantasy world, more pleasant for her than the ordinary one in which we are forced to reside. Is that what your father is doing?”
Thaddeus shook his head. “Not precisely. My father is both cunning and unscrupulous. He knows I’ll do almost anything to stop my mother from being hurt by his allegations that their marriage was not legitimate.”
His mouth twisted. “My mother is a gentle person, yet he told her on their wedding night that he would never love her, and moreover, that he had a disdain for her figure, her face, and the color pink, which she had worn to the altar.”
“She’s worn it ever since,” Joan murmured.
“Revenge can take quiet forms.”
“How have you managed to stop him from releasing this so-called evidence so far?”
“I allowed him to believe that I am considering stepping aside in favor of my half brother. That I am thinking about it.”
She opened her mouth to say, again, that “stepping aside” wasn’t allowed, but Thaddeus raised his hand. “I know. But he thinks that I will finally recognize that his opinion is the most important. And he feels that as a duke, English law doesn’t apply to him.”
“So he doesn’t believe in the laws of primogeniture. The eldest son doesn’t get everything.”
“He says it is a foolish rule and every duke—every man—should be able to choose his successor.”