Page 67 of Bluebell’s Fate

Chapter Forty-two

Nathaniel’s mind was racing. He needed to get to Cairnsby Hall to see the family portraits. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall what Aunt Linda’s husband looked like. Of course, he never met him, as he died before Nathaniel was born. So, his faulty memory was to be forgiven. But Mrs. Stone’s comment had shot through him. Ian had always compared Ian to Edwin, never to his father. But what if Ian looked so incredibly like Edwin for a reason? As for himself, Nathaniel’s looks had always favored his mother.

He looked hard at himself in the mirror before he left. Dark brown hair that leaned auburn, hazel eyes, both like his mother’s. Broad chest and strong jaw, like his father’s. But his father, Edwin, and Ian all had much lighter brown hair and blue eyes. If Nathaniel spotted them together in a crowd, he would assume that he was the cousin, not Ian. Maybe Ian’s father looked a lot like Nathaniel’s father; he couldn’t discount the very real possibility.

He put his hands against the doorframe of his bedchamber door and took a deep breath. He was likely jumping to conclusions—everything would be fine once he saw those portraits.

His parents and Ian had gone to town, so Nathaniel was spared having to lie about his reason for visiting. The butler let him in, and Nathaniel went straight to the small music room where the family portraits hung. Nathaniel’s parents hadn’t wanted any more family portraits done after Edwin passed away. So, Nathaniel stood, looking at a moment frozen in time about nine years ago. Before the accident, and the fever, and the guilt existed in Nathaniel’s heart. Even in this framed moment, Nathaniel had felt invisible to his parents. His parents were sitting on a settee with Edwin between them, Nathaniel was standing behind his mother with his hand on the armrest. Stars above, it hurt just to look at it.

But the next portrait he searched out hurt far more. It was painted at his grandmother’s new London townhome. His grandmother was in the middle, with her children and their spouses standing beside her. Nathaniel’s parents were on the left, next to his Uncle Adam who never married before he passed away, and Aunt Linda and her husband were on the right. Aunt Linda’s husband was blonde, tall and wiry, with a long neck and spectacles around his brown eyes. Nathaniel’s heart sank to his boots. He couldn’t find a single physical trait that tied Ian to this stranger.

The sound of the heavy front door closing jarred Nathaniel from his place. He took hasty steps to the corner of the room where a drawer of music was organized, and he started shuffling through the middle.

“I’ll call for tea.” Nathaniel heard his mother say, followed by her quick footsteps down the corridor.

“There’s really no question about what I would want.” Nathaniel’s father whispered just beyond the doorway. “The problem is that I have no control over the matter. If I act in any way, it ruins you and your mother’s chance for living the lifestyle you do.”

Ian whispered back, “If nothing else, it is good for me to know how you feel on the topic. I only wish the laws of inheritance were different.”

Ought Nathaniel to hide and listen? Or should he let them know he was there? Nathaniel warred within himself for only a moment before he spoke at full volume. “Is that you, Ian?” He continued shuffling through the papers as if he had a reason for being there, then he pulled a random one out just after the door pushed open.

Ian, for once, looked a little flustered, but that was nothing compared to his father’s splotchy red face. He spluttered, “Nathaniel. I wasn’t expecting you.”

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at his father. He kicked himself for being so forward about his presence. Nathaniel could have learned more of what laws Ian and his father were talking about, and why they were important. After seeing the family portraits, he had a queasy feeling about their discussion. “I just came to borrow a piece of music. I hope to return it in a couple days.”

Ian leaned lazily against the doorframe, his easy-going mask back in place. “Is your wife not beautiful enough? You must add music to your home as well?”

Nathaniel didn’t take the bait. “I’d do all manner of things to bring her joy. What was your business in town today?” He looked from Ian to his father.

“Oh,” his father’s eyes shifted. “Nothing of importance.” His father was not as practiced with lying and manipulation as Ian was. However, now that he had regained his composure, Nathaniel noted with a heavy heart that his father and Ian looked just like father and son. What other explanation could there be? His father opened the door wider, quite obviously anxious for Nathaniel to be gone. “Do give our well wishes to Lady Bluebell when you get back to the cottage.”

It was a dismissal—not that Nathaniel didn’t want to escape from the room just as much as he wanted to deny the picture before him of his unfaithful father, and what could only be his half-brother. “Of course. Have a good evening.” He struggled not to run from the house, from the realization that he’d just made.

Before he knew it, he stumbled into the cottage, half out of breath from jogging down the lane. Bell was in the small purple parlor with his grandmother, looking over the book the architect lent to him about conservatories. His wife stood at his entrance. What she saw in his face must have reflected what he felt in his soul.

“Heavens, Nathaniel! Whatever is wrong?” Bell rushed toward him and put a gentle hand on his arm.

He could only shake his head. In the time it took him to jog home, he’d realized why the secret was kept. If Ian was illegitimate, then he would lose all standing in society; this Nathaniel could care less about. But the repercussions didn’t stop there. His Aunt Linda would no longer have a home. That had to be why Nathaniel’s own mother, if she ever suspected the truth, hadn’t said anything about her husband’s behavior. It explained why his father always loved Ian like a son…he was his son.

Another hand reached for his face, and he found himself looking into the kind eyes of his grandmother. Her eyes held pain, pain that he suspected she had carried for a long time.

She knew.

She had to know, or at the very least suspect, the truth. He could see it, her grief in harmony with his own. He didn’t blame her for not telling him. What was she to do?

He choked on a sob, but bit back his tears. “How long have you known?”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “Far too long, dear one. Far too long.”

Bell’s voice pierced through the shared moment of pain, “Nathaniel, is this about Ian?”

What was he to say? He hated the idea of lying to her, and she knew that he’d discovered something terrible. Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to meet her gaze. “I’m afraid it is.”

Grandmother ushered himself and Bell to the settee. Bell sat so near his side, he had to wrap his arm around her shoulders. The gesture gave him more comfort than he cared to admit.

“I ought to have taken that boy away from here days ago,” Grandmother said as she lowered herself across from them. “Tell me, Nathaniel. Does Ian know?”

Nathaniel tilted his head toward Bell and gave his grandmother a significant look. He didn’t want to talk about the sins of his family in front of her. She was all goodness and innocence; the last thing he wanted to do was be the one who tainted her perception of the world, and more importantly, him.