Page 11 of The Major's Mistake
A tear came unbidden to her eye. If only she hadn’t been so far away when the trouble occurred. Perhaps things would have turned out differently if she had been there to offer some counsel.
Perhaps.But there was nothing to be done about the past. It was the present that she must address.
A discreet knockcame at the door some time later, jarring her out of her reverie.
“Come in.”
The tousled white head of her longtime servant appeared through the crack. “His Lordship, the Marquess of Sterling to see you, my lady.”
“Have him come in, Wells.”
The tall, muscular man that stepped into the library bore only a passing resemblance to the untested youth she had last seen in London over seven years ago. The hair was still the same raven color, the eyes still the same interesting hue between green and blue, but everything else was quite changed. The planes of his features had become stronger, more angular—if anything it had made him even more handsome, for there was a certain strength that radiated from the face, rather than mere good looks. The depth of his gaze also revealed someone who had seen more than a passing glance of the good and the evil in the world.
“Halloo, Aunt Sophia.”
“Halloo, Julian.”
He bent to bestow a light kiss on her cheek.
She continued to regard him in a long enough silence that his lips finally gave a twitch.
“Am I up for at auction at Tat’s?”
She made a show of adjusting her spectacles before finally speaking. “Well, it appears the army has done you some good—last time I saw you, I feared you were on your way to becoming a rather shallow prig.”
He let out a low chuckle. “I may have changed, but you, thankfully, have not.” There was a slight pause. “It is very good to see you.”
“And you, my dear.” Her brow furrowed in concern as he shifted his weight with an awkward shuffle. “Your leg?—”
“It’s nothing,” he said quickly. “Merely something that flares up from time to time.”
Lady Thornton gave a glimmer of a smile. “At my age, that is a condition with which I am all too familiar. Come then, let us sit by the fire.” She rose a bit stiffly and indicated the comfortable sofa facing two matching armchairs.
After exchanging further pleasantries, a bit of family gossip and the latest news from London, the conversation trailed off into an uneasy silence. Julian looked around the room for a moment, taking in the stacks of books, the modest furniture, the polished mantel set with a collection of small tartan boxes, before bringing his gaze around to meet that of his aunt’s.
“I imagine you know why I am here,” he said softly.
She merely nodded.
He cleared his throat. “It appears that Justin is my son.” His inflection made it more of a question than a statement.
Lady Thornton’s expression didn’t change. “I believe Miranda answered that question.”
“Do you believe it true?”
Her chin rose. “I won’t even grace that question with an answer.”
Julian’s eyes dropped away in some embarrassment as he tugged at the corner of his waistcoat. “I had better becomeacquainted with the lad then, and make some plans for his future. He should?—”
“That shall be entirely up to Miranda,” she interrupted.
“What!” he exclaimed. “You cannot mean to oppose my right to my heir. Why, I have only to appeal to the courts to have the lad removed to my custody entirely?—”
Lady Thornton was on her feet in an instant. “How dare you march into our home and threaten such a thing!” She was nearly shouting. “No child could have a more loving and caring mother than Miranda has been to Justin. And you, who have known him not above ten minutes, have the arrogance to think you would provide him with a better upbringing?”
The marquess paled at the cold fury in her voice.
“What would you do?” she went on. “Ensconce him in the empty confines of Crestwood with some hired servant to look after him while you amuse yourself in Town with balls and other … entertainments?” she continued with scathing sarcasm. “A fine boyhood that would be, sir, as you can attest to.”
