Page 121 of A Misguided Devotion

That sounded more convincing. “You have no right to destroy my correspondence. Tell me what it said.”

“Why should I?”

William withdrew his quizzing glass from his waistcoat pocket again and cast the full force of his magnified eye onto Mrs Barrington. “Do you intend to alienate the future Lady Droxford? My father is the Earl of Harting, and my grandmother is the Duchess of Wessex. I have connections that could find out the truth, but it would be much easier if you told Miss Lacey what she wants to know.”

“Her brother’s dead.”

Kitty’s heart skipped a beat. Dead? For a moment, she thought she might faint, but the undisguised malice on Mrs Barrington’s face brought her to her senses.

“You’re lying. If my brother had been killed, you would have no reason to keep the letter from me. You could have crushed me by giving me indisputable evidence of his demise.”

“He won’t write again. I told him you had married my son and died in childbirth.”

“You did what?” That must be why she hadn’t heard from Edward.

The old lady chortled to herself. “I meant you both to suffer as I have. I wish you were still hurting, as I’ve no doubt your brother is. See? That’s how I know you’re lying when you say Hugh is dead. You’re trying to punish me for treating you as you deserve.”

“You wrong me, Mrs Barrington. I would not inflict that pain on anyone. Time will prove I have not lied to you. Your bitterness has become a prison, holding you captive. Unforgiveness reaps what it sows. The only person it hurts is you. And you will be left to grieve alone. Good day.”

Dipping into a curtsey, Kitty clung to William’s arm as she headed for the door.

The old woman shouted after her. “Nothing will wipe away the shame of your father’s birth.”

Kitty turned on the threshold. “You’re wrong. We cannot choose our past, but we can choose whether we let it define us. It is our choices that make us who we are, not where we’ve come from.”

Without waiting for a reply, they swept out of the room. If she never saw that woman again, it would be too soon.

William hurried Kitty out of Mrs Barrington’s home as fast as if it were about to explode. Except it was not the house that was on the verge of exploding, but his temper. If he had been forced to witness any more of that woman’s insolence toward his darling, his manicured facade of aristocratic arrogance would have been blown away.

He helped Kitty onto the bench of the curricle, and then, with a word to his father’s coachman to follow them back to Weymouth, he climbed up beside her.

“You were magnificent,” she said as they pulled away from Dumbarton House. “I don’t believe Mrs Barrington has received such a set-down in her entire life.”

“Horrid woman. To talk to you like that when you were trying to break such difficult news to her. How dare she suggest you would make up such a story out of spite—”

She laid a hand on his knee. “Calm down, before you spook the horses.”

“Why did it fall to your lot? How could Mrs Jenkin ask it of you, knowing your past relationship with her grandmother?”

“Laura wrote to express her relief that we were both safe, to assure me of her continued friendship, and to inform me about what had happened. That a revenue cutter had caught Blake’s boat, and both the escaped French officer and the whole crew had been taken into custody. And to tell me about Hugh. She begged for my help, William. Would you have me turn down a friend in need?”

“Even though it was her own father who almost got us drowned?”

“Have sympathy, William. Laura is not responsible for Hugh’s choices. But despite everything, he was her father. In time, I think she will see the accident as a blessing, but for now, her loss is too raw. Her feelings are a muddle of shock and grief. Relief that it is all over, mixed with guilt. Because it was her husband’s letter to Major Ross that prompted Hugh’s arrest.”

“That’s hard—but she made her choice when she married Mr Jenkin.”

“Yes. Just as you made your choice when you asked me to marry you—whatever complications it brings with it. Thank you for choosing me. For coming after me today. For being with me when I believed…for a moment…that Edward… But now I have renewed hope that he’s still alive. I’ll write again. This time, a letter that I am sure will be delivered.”

“I’m glad I was with you. At your side. That’s where I belong. When I learned you’d left my grandmother’s house, I thought she’d scared you away from marrying me by convincing you it was in my best interests.”

“Do you have so little faith in me? I told your family I would release you from your promise if you asked, but I was confident you wouldn’t. Though the circumstances of my father’s birth are regrettable, I meant what I said. I am not defined by my past.”

“Prove it by marrying me. Now.”

“I can’t. Your father has refused his consent.”

“I know, but we could elope.”