Page 97 of In Need of a Duke
All the warmness that had worked its way into Ian over the past few months faded instantly. He was all stone again, a gargoyle on the side of the Notre Dame still, glaring at her across the long dining table.
“Have you always known, Ian?”
He set down his spoon, blinking suddenly, then turning away. “No.”
“No? When did you find out?” When he didn’t answer, she pushed her luck and pressed further. “Were you ever planning on telling me?”
“When my father passed, I became aware of some hidden payments, and since the solicitor would not tell me more, I tracked down who those payments were being sent to. Her name was Judith, and he fathered three children with her. All the time he spent away from me and my brother was because he preferred to live his life as someone else, not a duke.”
“And your mother never knew?”
He raised his brows, then shook his head with a sigh. “For the longest time, she refused to say. But when she died, she confessed everything to me. She told me my father had loved Judith, but his parents never approved because she was a shopkeeper’s daughter. Eventually, he took her as a mistress after I was born. And then, slowly at first, he built a life with Judith, only ever returning to Cumbria to be with my mother when we were home from school. When Nathaniel was nine, she returned to Italy, and I only saw our father a week before he passed.”
“And you never thought I should know? What about Nathaniel? Does he know?”
Ian rubbed his temple and sighed. “I thought I could keep it quiet. I wanted to protect the legacy of the Dandridge title.”
“You hated your father. Is this why?”
“I have always hated my father, Lottie. He never cared for my mother and despised me.”
“And Nathaniel?”
“They were much closer, but the title can’t go to Nathaniel. Not if he continues to parade around London as he does now. I am lost at how I can help him. I think he hates me as much as I hated my father. And now I must tell him something else I learned before I returned—about his father.”
“His father?”
“He’s not my father’s child.”
The silence roared between them until Charlotte dropped her spoon. “You haven’t told him yet? What if someone discovers the truth?”
“I’m not sure how best to tell him.”
That, she understood. “I don’t know if there was a right way or a wrong way, only that he deserves to know the truth.”
“I agree. I’ve tried to tell him since I’ve returned from Italy, but one of us always seems to be bristling.”
“You, bristling, Duke?”
Ian rubbed his hand against his mouth, attempting to hide his grin. “Point taken.”
“It should be you who tells him. He shouldn’t find out from someone else. Have him over for dinner one night, and I will be here if I must, to be the voice of reason.”
“Anyway, I have made sure everyone involved is well taken care of. Please, see that the girl is enrolled in the seminary so there isn’t any gossip. I am sorry they involved you.”
The hair stood on the back of Charlotte’s neck, and a metallic taste burned in her mouth. “Sorry? I am the duchess, Ian. Do you not think I deserve and need to know any of this? You are not burdening me with the truth.”
He didn’t move, hardly blinked, just remained still. So cold and far away.
“Will you let me in?” she pleaded at last.
At the sound of the crack of her voice, he stood and closed thedistance between them, raking his hand back into her hair and kissing her forehead.
“Don’t be sweet, Ian. You can’t kiss your way out of this.”
“I can try. Get on the dining table…”
She shoved against his chest and then balled her fists, her brows drawn down. “No.”
