Page 100 of My Highland Rogue
“Because she’s my daughter.”
She had to hand it to him. Gordon had evidently learned to school his features. There wasnothing in his face or demeanor that indicated that she’d surprised him. Nothing but a quick blink of his eyes. She might’ve missed it if she hadn’t been looking so closely.
She told him the story of when she’d been a fool for love. He listened intently, not looking away once. He leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped between his open knees. Yet he never allowed his gaze to move from her face.
“So, you see,” Ellen concluded, “you are not related. Even remotely.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, just sat back, his gaze finally moving from her to the windows. He took a deep breath and exhaled it.
“Where is Jennifer now?”
“At my house. I have a home here in London.” She withdrew one of her calling cards and, taking the pen from the desk, wrote her address on the back of it.
“As you can imagine, she was quite disappointed not to find you here. She couldn’t wait to come to you to tell you the news.”
She handed the card to him, and Gordon only stared at it for a minute.
“Are you certain, Mrs. Thornton?”
For the first time in an hour, she smiled with genuine amusement.
“That I gave birth? Most definitely. That the Earl and Countess of Burfield took Jennifer as their own? Again, most definitely. I could never forget those details, Gordon. Nor would I lie to you. I do have a question for you, however.”
“Yes, I love her. I’ve always loved her.”
She smiled as she shook her head. “I’m glad to hear it, but that wasn’t the question. What are you still doing here?”
He stood, looking down at her. He was a handsome man, but the smile he gave her lit up his eyes. Suddenly, it was like he was radiating light from within.
“Then, if you’ll pardon me...”
She waved him away. “Go. Go,” she said, watching him leave with a smile.
Jennifer entered her sitting room, thanking the maid for lighting the lamp here and in her bedroom and for laying the fire. It was going to be a chilly night, the beginning of winter. Still, if she were at Adaire Hall, she wouldn’t have lit the fires quite yet. Nor would she have ever left a gas lamp burning without being attended.
The fire in the nursery wing had caused a great many changes at Adaire Hall, all of them geared to making the countess feel safer.
This sitting room, like her chambers in Ellen’s Edinburgh home, had recently been decorated. It seemed to have a theme, if the mural on the far wall was any indication. It depicted the ruins of Rome with a few columns standing, but most broken on the ground. The predominant color reminded her of sand with perhaps a little pink mixed in. The sofa, the two chairs, the curtains in both rooms, and the bedcover were all in that shade with varying patterns.
Ellen certainly did her part to keep the seamstresses in London busy.
Jennifer began to pace, creating a path around the sofa, in front of the windows, back to the door, and to the sofa again.
She should have been more polite to Maggie. She should’ve groveled, if nothing else. Had the man she’d seen in Edinburgh been Gordon? When was he returning? Would Maggie tell her where he was staying? She didn’t mind retracing their steps and leaving for Edinburgh tomorrow if she needed to.
How was she to bear this? Until two days ago, she’d been miserable, unable to think about anything other than how terrible she felt and how horrible a future without Gordon would be. Then Ellen had told her the truth of her birth and she was overjoyed. The journey from Edinburgh had been endless, but she’d endured it, only to be told that he was no longer in London.
She wanted to scream.
She couldn’t even begin to think of readying herself for bed. Sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. All she wanted was to find Gordon. She opened the sitting room door and left the room.
Chapter Forty-One
Miracles did happen. The refrain stayed with Gordon during the short carriage ride to Ellen’s house. Miracles did happen. For the past weeks he’d been simply existing, doing his best to perform those duties that needed to be done to seem functional and rational to other people. For weeks he’d been living a lie, unable to tolerate the life he’d been given.
Miracles did happen. His mind replayed Ellen’s words. He could easily see the countess agreeing to take on another woman’s child as her own. Mary Adaire was one of the kindest and most generous women he’d ever known, and she was his mother.
At Ellen’s door he was greeted by an officious majordomo who insisted on announcing him to Jennifer. He kept his patience with difficulty. At first he thought the man was escorting him outside again before he realized that Jennifer was standing on a terrace at the rear of the house.
