Regency Temptation. Christine Merrill
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His face split into a grin of amazement.
As usual, St Aldric was proving himself to be the most admirable of men, showing not an ounce of jealousy or outrage at this sudden revelation. There was no sign that he viewed it as an embarrassment. To be gifted with a bastard brother was not an inconvenience to him. On the contrary, he seemed to think it a marvel. Despite his charmed life, the duke had lacked but one thing: a family. And, of course, God had granted him that. Now he was complete.
It was just one more depressing sign that he was the perfect mate for Evie. The man was as kind and generous in private as he was in public. Sam supposed that it was just another sign of his debased character that he still wanted to choke the life from the fellow.
‘He has not wanted. Not for a moment,’ Thorne said hurriedly. ‘Your father put him in my care from the first and swore me to secrecy.’ Now he looked past the duke, to Sam. ‘I raised him as my own. I told him nothing of his actual parentage. I misled him …’
And now both men in the room were looking at Sam, Thorne giving a shrug of apology.
‘I do not understand.’ But, of course, he did. This meeting had been about him, all along.
‘I did not get you from a foundling home,’ Thorne said. ‘Your mother was a seamstress named Polly Hastings, who lived in the village of St Aldric. She was struck with childbed fever and could not care for you. I took you away, shortly before she died.’
‘My mother.’ He’d known he had one, of course. But he had not thought of her in years. And his father …
‘You told me …’ He could not manage to finish the sentence, for the implications of it, though they had been horrible before, were becoming all too clear.
‘What I told you before does not matter,’ Thorne said in warning, as though he would be likely to blurt out the story he had been told, in all its repellent detail. ‘This is the truth: the old duke was your father.’
And that changed everything. In one sentence, he had gone from monster to man. His desires were neither base nor sinful. They were a perfectly natural affection towards the most beautiful of women. There was no impediment to realising them.
The room was spinning. Or perhaps he was. The sudden lightness of spirit might have set him turning like a windmill. It had certainly unsettled his brain. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He could not seem to call for the brandy he so desperately needed. Or the air, which he could not manage to take into his lungs.
When Sam opened his eyes again, he was staring at the ceiling. Thank God, Evie had not been in the room to witness this or she’d have teased him ‘til his dying day. It was bad enough to have fainted in the presence of St Aldric and Thorne. There was no point in arguing that he had weathered battle without incident. He had been ankle deep in blood and severed limbs, the screams of the wounded and the smell of death close about him, and had never had such a reaction as this. They must think him weak, easily overwrought, sensitive and emotional.
But it was worse to think of Evie standing over him, laughing at his discomfiture, while the man who was his half-brother weathered this news with good humour and sang-froid.
‘Are you all right?’ St Aldric was looking down at him with a bemused expression that split into another grin. An oddly familiar expression, for it was rather like the one that Sam saw when shaving. Now that he was encouraged to see the similarities, it was plain that they were brothers. Colouring, eyes, the height of the forehead and position of the ears—all were similar to his. There could be no doubting it.
The Duke held out a hand, ignoring his silence. ‘I suppose this comes as rather a shock.’
‘You have no idea.’ It had been the rush of knowledge that had done for him, just now, the new facts pushing the old certainties from his head. And the knowledge that he had been wrong, so very wrong, about the one thing he had been most sure of.
Evie could never be his. She was his sister. His feelings for her, no matter how powerful, were vile and fetid. All his adult life, he had known himself for a sick dog, or a base sinner, unworthy of the company of the one he most wanted. No amount of distance, violence or Bible thumbing had offered relief.
Then, in an instant, he had been washed clean. The well-manicured hand still hovered before him, blurring slightly as the last of the swoon cleared itself and his pulse returned to normal. Sam gripped it and allowed himself to be pulled upright.
‘It was a great shock to me as well,’ St Aldric supplied, trying to put him at ease. ‘I had grown quite used to the fact that I was the last leaf on a dead family tree.’
‘I am a natural son,’ Sam said, still confused by the man’s joy at this news. ‘I hardly think that counts me as part of your tree. A weed beside it, perhaps.’
‘Better that than blasted, bare ground.’ St Aldric was staring at him with a strange hunger, then pulled him forwards into a brotherly hug.
Sam felt the hand that had lifted him clapping him firmly on the back, then the duke gripped him by the shoulders and held him apart, staring into his face as Sam had to the other, a moment ago. St Aldric was memorising the features, cataloguing, comparing, finding the agreements just as Sam had done and nodding in revelation. ‘You have no idea what a relief it is to find kin of any kind, when one has resigned oneself to being alone.’
There was no response Sam could offer to this but a blank stare. He had never felt the need of a brother and certainly did not want the father and sister that he’d thought he had. It was better, so much better, to think oneself alone than to have those. Now, he had been thrown into yet another family that he did not wish for.
His feelings must have shown on his face, for St Aldric looked away in embarrassment. ‘I am sorry. I did not think. You know all too well what it is like to be alone. But that has changed for both of us. I will acknowledge you, of course. And I will help you in any way I can. I’d have done it for Evelyn’s sake, of course. But there is so much more reason now.’
Evie.
He had forgotten the events of the past hour. Lady Evelyn Thorne was now engaged to the Duke of St Aldric, who was, apparently, his brother. It was like losing her, only to think he had won her, and then lose her again. Everything had been settled between the three of them. It would be most unworthy of Sam to spoil the happiness of his brother and steal Evie’s best chance at a match.
The decision took little more than an instant to make. It might be unworthy, but he would do it in a heartbeat. Evie loved him. Her words and actions had proved it, just an hour ago. Sam owed nothing to this interloper. Despite what St Aldric might think, they were still enemies. All the good will and kittens in the world did not change the fact.
‘As I said when we first met in the garden, your help will not be required,’ Sam said, softly.
St Aldric’s eyes widened in surprise, as though he had never considered the possibility that someone might refuse him. ‘What reason would you have to deny me? Surely I can open doors for you that you could not open yourself.’
‘I have been content with making my own way thus far,’ Sam reminded him.
‘Sam.’ Thorne’s voice held a fatherly warning to mind his manners and accept the charity of his betters. It gave him an hysterical desire to laugh in the man’s face. There was no earthly reason he need follow the advice. Thorne might have raised him, but the pretences were so false as to render the relationship without value.
‘And now you might be more than content,’ St Aldric said. ‘You must be my personal physician, as Evelyn suggested. It would be little more than an honorary position for many years, I assure you. I am young and healthy. But there would be a stipend attached to it. And the honour of association. You are still unmarried. I suspect that there would be many women who would actively seek you out.’
‘Evie.’ He was struck dumb yet again, and, if he was not careful, he would faint for the second time in his life, right here on the office carpet.
‘And