Gratitude that she wasn’t in London to bear the brunt of his drunken temper washed over Diana. “I’m sorry to hear that.” What else was she supposed to say?
“I had my coachmen pick him up, and I took him home. This isn’t the first time. But this time, he was very … talkative.”
Talkative? Cold invaded her core.
“Diana, he told me …” Marcus pressed his lips together, breathing in through his nose. “He said a lot of things, but interspersed amongst all of it, he said that his daughter had disgraced him by having a child. A boy. And that the boy was now missing from his house.”
She felt as if she were falling through darkness. Air refused to enter her lungs, and all she wanted to do was run. Run to the house and snatch up Cian, protect him, protect her sister’s memory. Without realizing it, she had gotten to her feet.
Marcus put his hands on her upper arms. She shrank from him, trying to pull away, all her fears of men rushing back to collide with her fears for her nephew.
“Diana, is it true? Is the baby your maid is claiming as her own your child?”
Her eyes clashed with his. “What?” He thought Cian belonged to her, was her son? She sifted back through what he’d said, forcing herself to be clearheaded.
“Evan said you hold the child in unusual affection, and now I know why.” His voice held an edge. “He’s my friend. I can’t stand by and let him be defrauded. He deserves to know.”
Guilt smote her. Evan did deserve to know the truth. The real truth, not what Marcus surmised and not the lie she’d told.
But what would he do? Marcus’s anger at what he thought was her duplicity was evident. Would Evan react likewise?
“Tell me the truth.” His grip tightened. “Is that child yours?”
“No. And yes.”
“Speak plainly, woman. I’ve been going around in circles trying to make sense of it. I followed your trail from boarding school, and I can find no one who knows anything, nor will they say.”
“Followed my trail?” Why would he do that? “Who are you to investigate me?”
“Never mind. Tell me about the baby.”
“Promise me you won’t tell Evan.” She needed to tell him herself. If he found out another way … It didn’t bear thinking about.
“I can’t make that promise. Tell me the truth.”
Diana sagged, and he let her go, easing her down to the bench. She put her face in her hands. It would be such a relief to tell someone, but it should be her husband.
“Diana.”
“His name is Cian, and he’s my … nephew.” The last word came out a whisper.
“Percival’s by-blow?” Marcus’s voice went high.
“No, my sister, Catherine’s, child.” The moment the words were out, she wanted to call them back. Voicing them was a betrayal of her promise to her sister. And yet what choice did she have?
“Your sister? I didn’t know you had a sister.” Marcus perched on the arm of the bench.
“Percival is the oldest, from my father’s first marriage. Then came Catherine, from his second. She is—was—two years older than I. Father’s second marriage didn’t last long. And he married my mother soon after his second wife’s death. Last year, Catherine had her debut Season, but she was sent home because …”
“She was with child?” He said this gently, which encouraged Diana to continue.
“Yes. My father was furious, of course. He had been negotiating her marriage, and she’d ruined herself. He banished her to the country, withdrew me from school to stay with her, and refused to allow her a midwife or accoucheur to attend the birth. Cian was born just before the new year, and she died the same day.” Diana looked up at him. “But not before I gave her my word to raise him as my own, to love him and care for him and protect him from my father.” She straightened her back, firming her chin. “My father forbade anyone to ever mention Catherine again, continually threatened to discard Cian in a foundling home, and he used the baby to bring me to heel. He had plans to marry me to a man of his choosing, one with whom he could negotiate to get his hands on at least a portion of my inheritance. I was willing to go along with his schemes because when the inheritance was handed over, he would give me custody of Cian. But everything went wrong. The Prince Regent wanted me to marry Evan, and then he told everyone at the wedding breakfast about the inheritance. Though he didn’t mean to, the prince foiled all of my father’s plans, and he put Cian’s life in danger.”
“So you stole the child and had your maid pose as his mother.”
Diana nodded. “I had no choice. I couldn’t leave him in my father’s care. I promised Catherine I would keep the baby safe. I know it’s wrong to have Beth masquerade as his mother, but I told her if Evan wanted to dismiss her as a result, I would tell him the truth.”
“You should’ve told him long since.” Marcus rubbed his palm against the back of his neck.
“Are you going to?” Trembles radiated from her middle. All her worst fears about the trustworthiness of men rose up and coiled around her.
He sighed. “I don’t know. By law, your father has legal custody of the child. And by rights, your husband should know that the child is his wife’s nephew. But I wouldn’t wish anyone to be under the control of the Duke of Seaton, and I can see why you didn’t tell Evan right away.”
Diana waited. She was at his mercy now that he had confirmed the truth.
“I wasn’t in London last Season, and I never met your sister. No one speaks of her, even to wonder where she is now.” He pushed himself upright and walked a few paces away.
“My father probably told people that he married her to a Scot or an American to explain her absence.”
“Who is the baby’s father?”
She shook her head. “That I will not tell you. It makes no difference to the situation, and I promised Catherine I wouldn’t ever breathe a word of it to anyone. Suffice it to say that Cian’s father would not be interested in his son and that he would be no better a guardian than my father.”
“Is he Irish?”
The question was so random, it sidetracked her thoughts. “What? No. Why would you ask that?”
“His name. Cian is as Irish as they come.”
A weak laugh escaped her stiff lips. “It was Catherine’s choice. We had a gardener named Cian when we were little. He was an Irishman, and he was kind to us. And perhaps she chose the name so people would think just as you did, that his father was Irish.”
“My other question … is your brother blackmailing you? Threatening to reveal your sister’s secret, and yours, if you don’t pay him?”
The question seemed to be drawn from thin air. “Percival? Blackmail? No, of course not.” Though she wouldn’t put it past him. “I haven’t heard from my brother—or my father—since I left London. Why?”
“Percival seems to have plenty of money at the moment, when a few weeks ago, he had none.” Marcus frowned. “I’d like to know the source. He disappeared for a while, running from his creditors, and now he’s popped up flush with cash.”
Diana rubbed her lower lip. Marcus certainly seemed to have a lot of information, and to be seeking more. Was it idle curiosity or something else?