Something in Hugh’s heart chilled. “I am also a bastard who will inherit your titles and all your wealth. And once we are married, this child will be mine.” The import of his words sank deep inside Hugh’s heart, and for a moment, he felt rattled. Here he was committing to be a father, when only yesterday he’d had the thought that after a few years of marriage he might start to consider fatherhood. His heart pounded, and he looked toward the churning ocean, a queer sense of disorientation infusing his senses.
“While this is sooner than I anticipated, fatherhood is not a responsibility that frightens me. You made me, Caroline, and William your beloved children without any hesitation or resentment. I will do the same with Lady Phoebe’s child, and this child will be your grandson or granddaughter.”
His father stared at him for long moments, and it jolted Hugh to see a sheen of tears in his eyes.
“I see Wolf made his way back to you,” he started, disregarding everything Hugh had said.
He briefly glanced down at the dog beside him. “Do you believe in fate or destiny, Father?”
“I believe in the tangibility of logical reasonings and science.”
Hugh smiled. “She brought Wolf home to me…and he is healthy and happy. I thought him lost to me forever.”
His father shuffled closer and clasped his shoulder. “I am glad he is with you. Have you considered that she might love the gentleman who compromised her?” his father demanded gruffly. “I’ve long warned you about entangling with women whose hearts are caught with another.”
Hugh stared at his father. “It matters not if she loves this man. It has no bearing on our arrangement.” Yet an unknown feeling twisted through him. Do you love this man still, Lady Phoebe? With a silent scoff, he dismissed such inane wonderings from his mind.
“Is it possible for me to alter your decision?” the old earl demanded.
A vision of her eyes, and the fear that had filled them, swam in his thoughts. The memories of her letters, how each fiery and mocking word had entranced him, scythed through his chest. The anomaly of how his heart pounded at the thought of her fascinated Hugh.
“You do not have to answer—I can see it in your eyes. Let’s arrange this marriage, then. I might die in a few days,” he murmured with gruff irritation. “And what is most important to me is that you do get married, my boy.”
Hugh made no reply, but he retained the clasp on his father’s arm as they made their way inside. A sense of strange unreality stayed with him when he settled his father inside the drawing room with a blanket thrown over his legs. The twin fireplace roared, and several lamps were lit, bathing the room in a bright warm glow. The lamps reflected the warm reds of the drapes and furniture, which made the formal drawing room seem so cozy and welcoming.
The door creaked open, and Caroline hovered in the doorway. As usual, she was dressed in dark breeches and a flowing white shirt, which, while it did not disguise her slender curves, did at least not seem unduly modest. Her garb was shocking to those who were not acquainted with her, but it could not be considered seriously fast. Caroline was without the refinements and polish ladies of the ton had been privy to, and Hugh believed she would have an extremely challenging time being accepted into society’s fold. Especially if the rumor of her father being a humble footman resurfaced. Yet he could see the hunger in her eyes when she spoke of England and finding her place in the world.
“I want to carve out a piece of the world for myself, and when I am old, I will be able to look back and say, ‘I, Caroline Juliette Winthrop, did that, and I’ve lived a life with no regrets.’”
Those words had been said with such aching hope, Hugh had resolved to do everything within his power to protect his siblings and see their dreams fulfilled.
“How is Wolf here?” she demanded, walking over.
Quickly, he relayed the story to her.
“Good heavens! The lady you are to wed is the one to whom I entrusted Wolf’s care? I am astonished at such serendipity.”
So am I, he silently thought and beckoned his sister to sit beside him.
“I spent months telling you about her. I knew she was not a figment of my overly active imagination,” she groused, settling on the sofa, curling into his side. A place where she wouldn’t have dreamt of being a year ago.
It was only since he’d been ill that Hugh and Caroline had become at ease with each other. He had kept her and William at a careful distance over the years. Seeing her sobbing at his bedside had affected Hugh, and the hardness surrounding his heart had been nudged at, and he had allowed her a lot closer. It had astonished him to learn that much of the distance that had existed between them had been due to his aloofness, which she had found off-putting. In a long heartfelt conversation, which had lasted until the wee hours of the morning, they had promised to be better siblings.
“I will do the reading tonight,” she said, smiling at their father.
Hugh passed her the novel, which they were more than halfway through, and drew his beast of a dog closer. Caroline started to read, and invariably his thoughts turned to Lady Phoebe, wondering if he had made the right decision. She had not been in his home for a day, and Hugh felt that he had been altered in a manner he had yet to understand or may never do.
And he still could not understand the emotions twisting through him. His heart raced, his senses were aware, and deep down, there was a peculiar sense of uncertainty. He had always embraced changes, hating when life seemed to stand still in any way.
Yet now his thoughts darted in several directions, refusing to respond to the control he’d mastered over his emotions years ago. It was with a jolting sense of bemusement that Hugh realized he anticipated the future state of being married to Lady Phoebe.
…
Phoebe glided down the curving staircase, her gloved hand trailing along the banner as she made her way to Hugh Winthrop. The beautifully rendered paintings that hung high on the wall commanded her gaze. She faltered in front of a portrait, which showed a rather handsome man with white-blond hair and vibrant green eyes. It was the elderly gentleman who had stood by the forecourt yesterday but had hobbled away. Surrounding him in the paintings were three children, and it was very easy to identify the viscount. Although she realized that the elder gentleman’s hair would have been a powdered wig as had been the fashion of the time, something struck her as peculiar. In the painting, Hugh appeared a lad of about fourteen years, and even then, he had been terribly handsome. Yet his eyes were so lonely.
Looking at his somber expression made her heart ache. Even the older gentleman possessed an air of sadness, his eyes also empty. Lowering her gaze to the other children, Phoebe blinked to see that both possessed a shock of bright red hair and gray eyes. There was no resemblance between anyone in the portrait—Phoebe frowned—except for the cheekbones. Each child shared high, slanted cheekbones, which lent an air of elegance to their attractiveness.