Page 94 of Impossible
“He refused?” Max knew the answer, but wanted to hear her tell what happened.
“Oh, yes. He was beyond furious. He sent me to a convent until I birthed Prudence. Your father had arranged for her care.”
“My father did that?”
“Yes. He wanted to ensure our child was adopted by a family, that she would be raised in a good household. Prudence’s adopted father was a teacher. She’s well educated, if you don’t know.”
Max heard pride in her voice. “Was it difficult to give her away?”
“Nearly impossible. But I had no choice. Your father considered taking her, but it was a flight of fancy. He admitted he couldn’t. I suppose based on that, it’s likely your mother wasn’t aware of me or Prudence.”
Thinking back to his mother’s death, Max recalled his father’s grief. He’d certainly appeared to love her. “I’m struggling to understand my father’s infidelity. I never would have guessed he loved anyone other than my mother.”
“Perhaps he didn’t. One does not need to be in love to engage in an affair. You haven’t loved all the women you’ve… well, you know. Have you?”
Of course he hadn’t. But it had been a long time. He’d loved Lucia desperately. And since her there had only been Ada. He was fairly certain he loved her too. The anguish that caused him nearly bent him in two.
“I have been in love,” he said softly as he looked her dead in the eye. “And I would never be able to be with anyone but that woman.” He suddenly wondered if he was somehow being unfaithful to Lucia. No, she would want him to carry on. Of that, he was certain.
“Your father would be proud of you. I understand things have been difficult for you since returning from the war. You were terribly wounded?”
He nodded. “I’m getting better, however.”
“I’m so glad to hear it. I saw Prudence yesterday, and she said that you and she had a nice walk the other day. She also said she thought you might carry forward as siblings. Your father would be thrilled to know that. I hope that gives you solace.”
He didn’t want it to—because he was still angry with his father—but it did. And he supposed that was why he’d come today, for whatever insight into his father this woman could provide. Knowing that he’d arranged for his daughter’s care and would be gladdened for her and Max to be siblings made him feel…lighter. It made him think the anger he felt would fade in time. Perhaps this was like his other wounds, and with time and care, he would overcome the pain and forgive his father. Ada would say that was a brilliantly sensible way to think about it.
Max stood. “Thank you for seeing me today.”
“You even sound rather like him.” A wistful smile curled her lips. “It was my pleasure to spend time with you, Warfield. I hope I’ll see you again.”
“I suppose we will since we appear to be family. Good day.” He turned and left, making his way downstairs. As he stepped into the entry hall, he saw Lucien doing the same, coming from Max’s right.
Sporting a bright yellow cravat, Lucien blinked in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“I called on your aunt.”
“I hope that went well.”
The air between them felt stilted, but Max supposed that was appropriate since the last time they’d seen each other, they’d exchanged blows. Everything Ada had said to him about Lucien and their friendship rose in his mind—loudly.
“It did. I take it you just met with your father,” Max said, nodding toward his cravat.
Lucien glanced down. “You remember?”
“That you wear ridiculously colored cravats to annoy him? Yes.” Max couldn’t help smiling, which was odd since until a fortnight or so ago, he could barely force himself to do so. “Does this mean your relationship with him is the same as ever?” The duke favored his eldest son and heir and his youngest child and daughter. Lucien had somehow always been lacking.
“It may be marginally improved, actually, likely due to his other two children being happily wed. That would never prevent me from taunting him, however,” he added with a grin. “In any case, he’ll soon realize I’m still a disappointment to him, and things will worsen once more.”
“You sound resigned.”
Lucien shrugged. “I have no expectations for improvement. Are you on your way back to the club?”
“I am. I walked.”
“Do you want company?”
The old Max—the one who’d never met Ada Treadway—would have scowled and said no. But he began to think that Max might be gone, or at least greatly diminished. “I would, thank you.”
