everything, the estates were in poor financial condition, the crops had failed for several years, and there were problems with the investments my father had made. There were days when I felt as though I were drowning beneath all that responsibility. Emily would listen to my difficulties without censure or criticism, would encourage me in my attempts to solve them. She was a good listener, someone who never sought to judge me.”
“Did you love her?” Dorothea asked.
The duke’s expression grew serious. “In a way. As a trusted friend and confidante. It was never a romantic relationship. I loved my wife, even though at the time we could barely be in the same room together without getting into some kind of ridiculous argument. I vowed to remain true to her, in the tradition of all Dukes of Hansborough.”
“But you failed,” Carter croaked.
The duke looked from him to Dorothea, then back again. “Once,” he insisted, his voice straining with emotion. “It only happened once. It started from an embrace, a gesture of comfort, but somehow…” The duke’s voice trailed off in confusion, as if he still did not understand how it had happened. “Emily’s guilt was nearly as strong as my own. She resigned her position at the Aldertons, which greatly annoyed them, and left the county by the end of the week.
“I heard nothing of her until a year later, when a letter arrived. She told me that she had given birth to a child, our child. Her family had taken her in and she was being well treated, well cared for by them. She asked for a small stipend to be sent through my lawyer so she could be assured the child would have some financial security. I made arrangements for the funds to be deposited at once, providing considerably more than requested.
“I wanted to do more for Emily, much more, but she would not allow it. In that letter, she begged me to let the matter drop, to leave her in peace, and as much as I wanted to protest, I felt I had no right to deny her wishes.”
A chill swept Carter as he struggled to accept the truth of his father’s words. “Then Roddington is your son.”
“No.” The duke shifted his eyes toward him. “He is not mine.”
Fury flashed through Carter, burning away his shock. He understood how Roddington must have felt when he confronted the duke, wanting only to hear the truth. “How can you possibly deny it?”
“Because Emily wrote that the child she gave birth to was a girl.”
The silence in the room was all-consuming. Dorothea drew an audible breath as time slowed to a crawl. She wrapped her hand around Carter’s, trying to offer some degree of comfort, for she knew his heart must be filled with anguish and uncertainty.
The silence of the room was finally broken by the sound of a door slamming, followed by an oath. There was a raised, angry voice and the sound of footsteps charging through the lower rooms of the house. Startled, they all turned to the door as a tall, muscular man crashed through it, dragging two young footmen with him.
Dorothea screamed and Carter leapt protectively in front of her. The two servants tried to wrestle the intruder to the ground, with little success. One footman’s powdered white wig had been knocked askew, and there was a thin trickle of blood running down the nose of the other.
“What is the meaning of this?” the duke snapped.
No one answered. A third footman joined in the efforts, and they managed to contain the man’s forward momentum. They dragged him, kicking and bucking, to his feet and were attempting to hustle him from the room when Carter yelled. “Wait! I know this man. He’s Roddington’s servant.”
“Julius Parker, my lord,” the man acknowledged, his eyes glittering with desperation. “I’m here about the major.”
“Release him,” Carter commanded, and the three servants reluctantly let go.
Parker tugged down his jacket and straightened his shoulders. “There’s been trouble and I’ve got nowhere else to turn. The major’s gone missing. I went to the pub looking for him earlier, and one of the barmaids told me there’d been a fight. A nasty group of blokes started brawling, and the major landed in the thick of it. Four men against one.”
“Was Roddy the one?” Dorothea asked with dread.
“Aye. But that’s not the worst of it. They dragged him out of the tavern after they knocked him out, and the barmaid said she heard them laughing about the money they would earn when they turned him over to the navy.”
“Impressment?” Carter frowned. “That’s been outlawed for several years,”
Parker’s nostrils flared. “When the need is there, laws mean nothing to some, even those in His Majesty’s Navy.”
“Perhaps the woman was mistaken,” Dorothea suggested. “Perhaps the major has gone somewhere of his own accord.”
Parker shook his head adamantly. “He’s never been gone this long without telling me. And anyway, if he had left Town of his own free will, he would have taken this with him.”
The servant reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment. It was worn and faded, the ink smudged. Since she was the nearest, Dorothea gingerly accepted the missive. Squinting hard, she read the salutation. “’Tis written to you, Your Grace.”
With a snort of annoyance, the duke glanced down at the letter, but his eyes soon grew wide. “It’s penned in Emily’s hand.”
No one stirred as the duke read the short note. When he finished, he lifted his head. Dorothea swore her heart skipped a beat, for the duke looked as if he had just taken a sharp blow to the gut.
“She begs my understanding and forgiveness for her lie,” the duke whispered, despair on his face. “She thought it best to keep it from me, but as she neared her death, she reconsidered and wanted me to know the truth. The child she bore was not a girl, it was a boy.”
“Roddy?” Dorothea choked out.
“Yes. The major is my son.”
The duke’s words hung in the air, and then the realization seemed to hit Carter full force. He sprang toward his father, his expression urgent. “We must help him.” Carter turned to Parker. “Do you have any idea where Roddington was taken?”
“There’s only one naval ship in port. I tried to talk my way on board, but got nowhere. That’s why I’m here. I figured a man with a title would have a better chance.”
All eyes turned to the duke.
He shook himself visibly out of his stupor. “Have the coach brought around immediately,” he commanded, motioning for Carter to follow. “We’re going to the docks.”
Curses and shouts followed in the wake of the duke’s carriage as it was driven through the London streets at a reckless speed. Pedestrians and vehicles alike scrambled to avoid getting run down, for it was obvious the large black coach would give no quarter. The three male passengers inside careened from side to side, yet miraculously kept their seats.
The duke periodically thrust his head out of the window, demanding that the coachman drive faster, agreeing to a safer pace only when the pungent, briny odor of the sea assaulted their nostrils.
If the circumstances had not been so grave, Carter might have broken into a grin. His father was in prime ducal form as he led the charge up the gangplank and onto the deck of the ship, eyes blazing. The young sailor standing watch flushed a molten, blotchy red as he tried in vain to stop them.
The officer who was called to assist was soon reduced to a similar state, visibly wilting under the duke’s verbal assault. It began with a threat to have him stripped of his rank and dismissed in disgrace from His Majesty’s Navy and ended with a promise to have the poor fellow transported to a penal colony. Clapped in irons.
Roddy appeared on deck two minutes later.
Carter’s stomach rolled with concern when he first saw him. The major’s left eye was swollen and his bottom lip split, but he was able to stand on his own and walk without any visible effects.
Roddington’s face registered surprise when he saw who had secured his release. For an instant he looked as if he might reject the help, but the alternative was obviously unthinkable.
“My coach is waiting,” the duke announced.
If not for the presence of his servant, Carter doubted that Roddington would have gotten into the coach. Whatever Parker said tipped the scales, and as the servant climbed up on top of the box next to the driver, the
