A Little Bit Sinful(66)

“And why is that?” He braced his arms behind his head.

“You are seven and twenty, are you not?” When he nodded, she continued. “Then you would have been conceived sometime in 1848, about the time the French visitors were here.”

“Clarissa, what are you talking about?”

His use of her given name meant she’d gotten his attention and not necessarily in a good way. “Your mother. Don’t you think she was probably one of them?”

He shook his head. “No, my parents met in Paris.”

She frowned. She’d been so certain after speaking with Lady Forrester. “How do you know that?”

“I was told that.”

“But don’t you think it’s possible whoever told you that didn’t tell you the truth? It’s far too much of a coincidence that so many of them were here during that very time. I know where they stayed too.”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, all manner of flirtations and his easy nature gone.

She dipped her finger in the divot right below his throat. “I merely want to help you find your mother.”

“Yes, but why?”

She sighed. “You endeavored to put yourself out here, in Society, to help me and my situation,” she added quietly. “Then you rushed in and married me when I made an utter fool of myself. It is the very least I can do.” She looked up at him. “Plus, I know what it is like to not know your own mother.”

He sighed. “Where?”

“Manchester House.”

He stood from the bed, retrieved his clothes. “I shall look into matters.” And just like that he strode from her room, entering the door that adjoined hers to his. It closed behind him.

She’d effectively seduced him and then just as effectively, it seemed, built a wall between them. She rolled over on her back. Why was she doing this? To prove to everyone that he was just a worthy as they were to bear a title. She wanted everyone to see him as she saw him, not as a bastard, but as a true gentleman. A man full of honor and character.

…

Everything Clarissa had told him last night had given him pause. After he’d left her bed he’d gone down to his study and written out a handful of notes, sending out queries to check on a few things. This morning he’d already heard back from two of them. It would seem the little bit Clarissa had discovered certainly changed everything in regards to his search for his mother’s identity.

The woman whom had raised him, the one he’d loved and thought was his mother until that fateful day when she’d sat him at the table and told him everything. Or what he’d thought was everything. As it turns out, he wasn’t quite certain of anything she’d told him. It was funny, though, he felt no anger towards her, no bitterness. She’d been a good woman, no doubt having her hand forced by the men with power who stood invisible behind her.

Eloise had told him that his parents had had a brief affair in Paris and that his mother had been unable to take care of him.

He’d spent all of his resources investigating a time when his father had supposedly been in Paris, a time when his parents could have met and had their brief affair. And then Clarissa had brought to his attention something he’d never quite considered. What if his parents had met right there in London? If his mother had been there, that changed everything.

So far he’d confirmed that there had, in fact, been a large group of French nobles who had come to London for refuge during the last revolution. And the timing fit perfectly for his birth. It certainly explained why he’d been raised here in England rather than in France. He’d also discovered that Manchester House was still opened and acting as a hotel, though the ownership had changed.

Now he had to decide if he wanted to pursue this particular thread. He’d followed every other lead he’d ever come across and they had all led to nothing, simply one dead-end after another. But this, this was so very different than anything he’d ever looked into, which made him wonder if it wasn’t the truth.

Clarissa poked her head in the doorway of his study. “Are you working?”

He closed the letter he’d just read. “Did you eat breakfast?”

She nodded. “Your cook is wonderful. Did you steal him away from some unsuspecting lord as you did for Rodale’s?”

He grinned. She was making an effort, discussing neutral ground as a peace offering. “I did not. She’s actually Mr. Clipps’s wife’s sister. And you’re right, she is a very good cook.”