She was crying and she was smiling. “You are magnificent, my lord. You are utterly magnificent, and Squire Yoe is on the verge of bankruptcy. Our old housekeeper at the vicarage writes to me occasionally. She eventually explained to me that Yoe was deeply in debt despite all his lovely acres, and Joseph’s duty was to marry money. I did not signify in that regard, not compared to the squire’s debts, and the squire had saved his son from my dubious clutches. I am not certain Yoe Senior even knew there was a child on the way—I did not know myself until the housekeeper explained it to me.”

“Yoe knew. The recruiting sergeants put it thus: Why allow a scheming wench to weigh you down with her brats in some dreary, backward village when you can instead take the king’s shilling, be a hero, and see the great, wide world? That speech works all too often.” Another chorus in the endless procession of jolly marching songs luring young men to a battlefield death.

“And,” Tremont went on, “despite the squire being in hock up to his hunter’s withers, he doubtless paid his tithes. Your father chose the parish coffers over his daughter’s wellbeing. You’ve been surrounded by strutting, lying cowards. No wonder Merridew hoodwinked you so easily.”

Matilda dabbed at her eyes and turned on Tremont the same focused study she’d aimed at his juvenile portrait.

“I’ve told myself that Papa never guessed quite how involved I’d become with Joseph. Papa never inquired into Tommie’s exact date of birth. He only railed against me for taking up with Harry when I might have waited for Joseph to return. You think Papa knew exactly what was afoot?”

“I am sure of it. He encouraged you to involve yourself with Yoe, then blamed you when the whole business went awry. Harry Merridew was the answer to your father’s selfish prayers, even if Merridew wasn’t a wealthy squire’s son. What would the bishop think, what would the congregation think, of a pastor who could not shepherd his own daughter away from harm?”

Matilda folded Tremont’s handkerchief into eighths and tucked it into a pocket. When she rose, her gaze was clouded with uncertainty. “Papa railed against me for accepting Harry’s proposal. He threatened to refuse to call the banns, said I’d end up disgracing the family name, and I wasn’t to come crawling back to him when my husband threw me out.”

“He was manipulating your pride, making sure you would never turn to him when Merridew revealed his true colors. What a wretched old hypocrite.”

Matilda frowned at the portrait of mother and son. “Papa was many things, but he was not a hypocrite. He believed all that fire and brimstone business and held himself to the highest standards of probity.”