Chapters (33)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Announcement
- About the Author
- By Lorraine Heath
- About the Publisher
“I met her the night I told Elverton to steer clear of you. She lied then about being my mother. I suppose the truth of things began to weigh heavily upon her. She needed to ease her guilt.”
“I can see the resemblance . . . in your eyes, the sleekness of your nose. Elverton’s is rather broader.”
“I thought I’d noticed similarities before, but I blamed it on my imagination and my wish she was my mother—that at long last I knew who had brought me into the world.”
Her heart ached for him. “I didn’t realize you yearned to know who your mother was.”
He lifted a shoulder, dropped it, seemed to clutch his hands more tightly. “I think every motherless child hungers to know the tale of his origins. It’s just easier to claim not to, to pretend it doesn’t matter.”
Which made it even more important that the babe growing within her never doubt its origins. Perhaps Aiden was correct that they should part ways. How much longer could she refrain from letting the love she felt for him shine through in her eyes for all the world to see? Was it fair to ask him to wait for her for a few years, to then pretend they’d only just met?
“How do you feel knowing Viscount Wyeth is your brother?”
“I always knew he was my brother through Elverton.” He studied his clasped hands. “It’s an odd thing to know that we share the same mother as well.”
His voice had hesitated at mother, and she wondered if it would have been easier to learn all this when he was younger—or to have not learned any of it at all. Would Selena’s son look for similarities in Lushing’s portraits? Would he hate her if he ever learned the truth regarding his existence?
Wandering over to the sideboard, she splashed some whisky into a glass and handed it off to Aiden.
He tossed back a good portion of it. “Thank you.”
Kneeling before him, she placed her hands on his wrists as he did little more than clasp the glass. “Even though we are not going to continue to see each other, I want you to know—I need you to know—that if you are ever in want of solace or anything at all, you can come to me and I’ll be there for you.”
“But only in the shadows.” His eyes contained enough sorrow to bring tears to hers. “Even when we arrange for me to spend time with my child—it’ll have to be in such a way that no one sees us. I’m beginning to think it might be best if I simply observe from afar.”
“I want you to have the opportunity to know your son—or daughter.”