Page 29 of The Duke's Bride in Disguise
It's not fair, she thought as she took a large bite of her bread and jam, Emily spent her whole life being adored, while I...
You had Mr Hobbs, she reminded herself firmly, who loved you as his own and taught you everything you know. This thought cheered her and pulled her from her self-piteous mood, and it was hard to feel self-pity when supping chocolate, she reasoned.
"Does anyone know what happened to her?" Ava continued to probe, ignoring the fact that Lord Fairfax looked rather uncomfortable. The marquess shrugged in response, taking out a handkerchief and mopping his brow, as he considered what to say.
"Nobody knows," Lord Fairfax said with a sad shrug, "Most people think that she eloped, and that Lord and Lady Darlington cut her off as a result. They have not been the same since, I can tell you."
"Indeed," Ava replied thoughtfully.
Was it possible that Miss Darlington had eloped with McCasey, all those years ago? It seemed like a rather plausible explanation, but if McCasey and Miss Darlington had married, what had happened to her in the interim? For, as Laura had said yesterday, the actor was now remarried to his mysterious, Parisian actress. And if the pair had married, who would they have abandoned Ava to the Asylum?
"Now, enough about that," Lord Fairfax said, "Tell me how you got on with Kilbride yesterday? There's a small piece in the gossip column, to say that you were spotted together in the park, looking very much in love."
"Gracious," Ava grumbled, "Don't the papers have anything better to report on?"
"You'll find that even when they do, they will always prefer to gossip," Lord Fairfax replied sagely, "It's all balderdash, of course."
"Of course," Ava agreed, though once her father had left, she reached across to take the newspaper that he had left behind, and flicked straight to the society pages.
There was the usual gossip about engagements and births, and amongst all this, Ava spotted the piece about herself and Kilbride.
"Following the rumours of an altercation, the D of K and Lady E were spotted yesterday on the Row, looking much happier. The sound of wedding bells cannot be far off."
Gracious; Ava closed her eyes in despair. Emily's plan was not going as smoothly as they had anticipated, and she hoped that her twin was not reading the papers in Kent. True, Ava had managed to avoid the duke for two days, but by avoiding him, she seemed to only have encourage him further.
Not that you mind his attentions, a snide voice whispered in her ear. Ava sighed; yesterday, when Kilbride had caressed her cheek, she had felt as though she might explode with wanting. It was so complicated, to feel so attracted to a man and know that she could never have him.
And he would never have you, she reminded herself sternly. The Duke of Kilbride thought that he was dancing attendance on Lady Emily Fairfax—a fact that Ava would have to try harder to remember. Heavens only knew how he would react if he knew that the young woman he was courting was a nobody, just an orphan with no name—though perhaps not for long.
I will find out just who my parents were, Ava thought with determination, as she made her way back up the stairs in search of Mary, and there was one place that she knew she would find the answer. She just had to figure out how to get it.
"You wish to do what?" Mary squawked.
"I wish to visit the Asylum," Ava replied firmly, "I simply have to see if there are any records pertaining to my birth."
"I don't know what Lady Emily would say about that," Mary grumbled in response, her face creased in a frown of worry.
"She would surely encourage me," Ava replied, ignoring Mary's anxiety. "For it pertains to her birth too."
It was early afternoon, and the last of Lady Emily's callers had just left. For nearly three hours Ava had sat through endless inane chatter, much of which had been focused on the bonnet she had worn to the park the day before. Apparently, people had been speaking of little else.
"Mr Bobitol had assured me that daisy wreaths were the thing," Priscilla Huntington had wailed in despair, "I had Ella stitch them onto all of my bonnets, and now I find I was completely misinformed. It will take hours to fix them."
"Won't Ella fix them for you?" Ava had queried, confused by Priscilla's annoyance, for surely the job would be left to her lady's maid.
"Of course she will," Miss Huntington clarified with a frown, "It's most inconvenient for me—what if I need her for something else?"
Ava sighed as she recalled that particular exchange. The only light in an otherwise dull morning had been Lady Eunice. The young woman—the first caller not to mention the dreaded hat—had been on her way to the Foundling Hospital when she had stopped by.
"I am a member of a committee which distributes clothes to the children," Eunice had explained cheerfully, when Ava had asked her about her work.
"And they allow you inside?"
"Why, of course," Eunice had looked startled at the question, "All of the hospitals and orphanages are delighted when we call. True, I think it has more to do with the money we donate, than us ourselves, but they would never turn us away."
Lady Eunice's throw-away comment had lit something of a fire within Ava. She had not been able to think how she might go about discovering more about her birth, for she had assumed that she would be turned away at the door of the asylum, if she even tried to venture through the door. That defeated attitude was, she realised, because she had been thinking of herself as herself, and assumed that the Asylum would still view her as poor, orphaned Ava, and turn her away.
