The Legend of the Earl (Heirs of High Society) (A Regency Romance Book)(16)

And now they were here.

The house was well-decorated with the walls painted a soft green and family portraits hanging in gold frames. White curtains lined the windows. The floors were geometric shapes of black and yellow with a rug by the side stairs that pulled all the colors together.

It was lovely, and Alex couldn’t help but imagine what her life would have been like had she been recognized as his daughter. She knew it was a silly thought, but she could almost picture herself in a darling dress, walking down the staircase with a grace close to Alicia’s.

“Watch your step,” Justin told her in a low voice. “The floors were always slippery. I hit my head over there once.” He pointed to the end of the staircase and the sideboard that lined the wall across from him.

Alex pulled in a breath and imagined such a thing. “How old were you?”

Justin rubbed his head as though recalling the pain. “Ten, I believe.”

She smiled and tried to imagine him at ten, but her smile slowly faded when she realized that Justin had memories here, which in a way proved that he had known her father.

Another feeling hit her.

Pain on her own behalf.

After feeling nothing since that morning for the man who’d given seed to her existence, she didn’t like the emotions that were coming. “Was the injury terrible?” she asked, only to distract herself. When she looked at him, she found him staring at the top of the stairs with a distant look.

He didn’t answer her; his mind was elsewhere.

Justin pulled her farther into the foyer and toward the first painting.

Alex saw the face, the resemblance, and leaned away, forgetting her earlier question to Justin.

She most assuredly had her father’s eyes and his hair. If anyone had ever seen them together while he’d been alive, there would have been no question.

“That’s Lord Wint,” Justin told her as he joined them by the painting.

It was hard for Alex to find words and when she finally did speak, her voice was but a whisper.

“What was his given name?” she asked.

“John Upton.”

Upton. A name she would not have been granted to use even if, by some chance, she’d become his ward. Once illegitimate, always illegitimate. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there trying to picture how he’d look if they were standing face to face. Was he much taller than she was as the painting depicted, or were they of the same height? Alex wasn’t short or dainty like Rose, but she wasn’t as tall as Justin. Where had her height come from?

Perhaps she was being greedy to wonder. After all, she finally knew where she got the majority of her looks. The artist had painted Lord Wint’s hair with a gleam of softness that made her touch her own.

“Come, there’s more to see,” Justin told her in a low voice as he tried to point her on.

Alex looked behind her and saw Reuben following a few paces away, close enough to keep an eye on her but not close enough to hear their conversation. He was allowing her some privacy, which she was thankful for.

But when they arrived at a sitting room, Reuben remained at the door and didn’t join them. He seemed distracted by another painting in the hall.

“Where is Lord Wint’s nephew?” Alex asked as she looked around. The house was well-dusted and preserved in a state of use.

“He’s out of the country. Has been for some time.” Justin held out his hands and gestured for her to sit down on the yellow couch before joining her.

“Seems a waste of good coin,” she said. “Why keep all these servants when you’re not here? The money would be of better use in the bellies of the hungry.”

Justin’s brows rose. “You’re right. I should go speak to his lawyer and tell him to let go of the staff. I’m sure their families would survive it.” He was mocking her, and Alex pinked because he’d done it properly.

“I suppose that would be unkind,” she whispered.

He grinned. “Your cousin has yet to make any changes to the way Wint always did things. Thus, the staff remains just as your father would have allowed were he alive yet not present. He cared for his employees.”

Alex looked away. “He’s not my cousin.”

Justin leaned closer. “I beg your pardon?”

Alex righted her head to meet his eyes. “You called Lord Wint’s nephew my cousin, but he’s not. Neither was Wint my father. I’m illegitimate.”

“You cannot have looked at that painting and still believe that,” he countered.

Alex shrugged heavily. “It is the truth though, is it not? I’m sure it would have been easier had I been a man. Society will occasionally allow a bastard son into Society so long as his father had wealth and was social, but not daughters.”

Justin moved as though he would place a hand on her arm, but instead settled for clenching his fist on his knees. “Perhaps you’d have been right before now, but not after Mary Elizabeth Best’s journal was published. Any member of the ton who turns their back on you now will not be looked at favorably.”

Mary Elizabeth Best.

When Alex finally found out who had published that article, she didn’t know what she’d do. “My life has been good. Not perfect, no, but good.” She held his eyes. “I don’t want any of this. I don’t want the attention.”