Page 4 of Defending the Duke (The St. Clairs 4)

Laurel knew how unique her eyes were because she saw them in Hudson every day. Both twins possessed eyes which were a brilliant emerald color. Though she’d seen a few others with green eyes over the years, none resembled the dazzling green the twins possessed.

“What was his name, Mama?”

“Not Wright.” Her mother grimaced. “I called myself that when I found I was with child. Hoping others would think I’d wed and that my baby would be legitimate.”

Mama had told them Hudson was her maiden name and that’s why she’d called her boy that. This was the first Laurel had heard, though, about her mother taking a name that wasn’t hers.

“Who was he, Mama?” Laurel asked. A part of her believed if she didn’t learn now, Mama might never reveal his identity.

Dinah’s hand went to her chest and she groaned. “It hurts. So much.”

“Your heart?”

Mama nodded.

She stood. “I’ll fetch the doctor.” Though what she would pay him with, she didn’t know.

“No. No doctor. It wouldn’t do any good. This is the end, my sweet child. Don’t go throw good money after bad.”

Laurel dropped to her knees, tears spilling down her cheeks as she gripped her mother’s hands.

“He’s dead. I read about it. I’m glad.”

She held her breath, afraid to urge her mother on. Afraid to finally hear the truth she’d longed to know.

“He hurt me.” Her mother’s voice trembled. “I didn’t want him. He came with his mistress but he wanted me instead. He took me in a back room while she was being fitted for a new gown.”

A wave of pain flooded her. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

Dinah smiled weakly. “It wasn’t your fault, my sweet. It was a few minutes that I’ve tried to forget but it gave me you and Hudson. I wouldn’t trade my two darlings for anything in this world.”

Her mother’s eyes closed. Laurel thought about what she’d learned. Her mother had worked for the same modiste from the time she was fourteen. If only she’d known, she might have gone to Madame and asked her if she knew anything about that long-ago day.

Dinah’s eyes opened again, this time wild with pain. She jerked her hands from Laurel’s and pressed them against her chest as she sat up, gasping.

“Mama!” Laurel cried. “No!”

She watched her mother collapse again into the pillow and grow still.

“Mama? Oh, Mama. No, no, no...”

Dinah Wright was gone—and Laurel still had no idea who her father had been.

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