The door opened, and Ed strode in. He held a mug of tea in one hand and a bun in the other, munching contentedly. When he observed Daniel, he closed the door, set down the food and drink, and asked, “What’s wrong? Have you discovered nothing new on the case?”

Daniel had to tell someone. Not the details, but how he was feeling, the anger burning in his chest that had to come out.

“It’s not the case, though that’s frustrating enough.” He puffed out his cheeks and straightened in his chair. “Today I found out who my real father was, and the truth is, my pedigree is littered with liars and scoundrels.”

Ed’s brows rose, and he pulled out the other chair, turning it around and straddling it, crossing his arms along the back. “I see.”

“Do you?” Daniel bounded up to pace the small open area between stacks of ledgers. “Because I don’t. I suppose it was a stupid game played by a stupid boy, but I used to make up stories about who my father was. Was he a brave soldier, fighting for king and country, or a dashing highwayman full of daring and grit? Perhaps he was a steady farmer or a sailor or even a minister, but you know what he never was? A coward or a liar.

“What makes a man do such a thing to his family? He never knew I existed, casting my mother away without so much as a by-your-leave. Do you know how many times I’ve sat through a church service listening to a sermon of how God is a Father to the fatherless, about how He is a good Father, and I’ve felt nothing? You know why? Because I have no idea what it’s like to have a father. Now that I know about mine, I suppose I’m glad I didn’t for such a long time.” He dropped into the chair again, folding his arms and scowling. “God doesn’t care about me any more than my real father did.”

Ed remained calm, picking up his tea and sipping. “That’s plenty to be going on with.”

“I suppose you’re going to try to change my mind?” He set his jaw. “Tell me I’m wrong?”

“I could try, but I’d rather ask you some questions first.”

“Proceed, but you won’t change anything.”

“How is your mother? Does she know you are aware of your parentage?”

The question hit him amidships. His mother. He had been so eager to get out of the law offices and begin to work through what he had learned that he hadn’t spared her a backward glance. Shame licked at his heart. She owed him an explanation, if nothing else, but he also owed her some courtesy.