me because she had a calling to care for children.”
An ache in his throat nearly made speech impossible, but Lucien managed in barely a whisper, “Sister Anne.”
“Yes.”
He needed to move, needed to focus on something, because he wasn’t sure what he was feeling right now. Sister Anne had been in love with Horace Carmichael. Horace was his father . . . he stopped moving and looked back at Horace. “I’m a Carmichael.”
“Yes.”
And then another thought made him almost laugh at the irony. “Dane’s my fucking half brother.”
“It was my father who sent that man to your girl all those years ago. It was his way of being spiteful over a situation he couldn’t control. His motive was to hurt me because my son would be a constant reminder that he, the judge, was no better than the people he put away. It was why he was so intolerant of Dane. He didn’t care who he hurt in the process and unfortunately you and Darcy were collateral damage. He’s been arrested and he’ll pay for what he did to Elizabeth and you.”
“Do you think he also planned the kidnapping of my son?”
“What?” Horace took on a look that Lucien recognized because he’d seen it a few times in the mirror. The man was livid. “What are you talking about?”
“Darcy was pregnant. She was told her baby died, but she later learned that her mother had been paid to lie to her.”
“How the hell didn’t I know this?” Horace said to himself as he paced his office. “I would like to say no, but I’m coming to learn I don’t really know my father. Where’s your son now?”
“He’s been under our noses all along. We’re meeting him soon.”
His expression softened. “I’m happy to hear that. I’d like to sit with you to document everything you have on the kidnapping and I’ll get a team looking into it. If the judge did have a hand in it, it’ll be one more nail in that bastard’s coffin.”
Lucien pushed his hands into his pockets. “Thank you.”
“For what it’s worth, we’re family.”
“Now I know why the judge was constantly getting in my face,” Lucien said.
“I’m afraid so.”
“You’ve been watching out for me, haven’t you?”
“How could I not?”
“And you recruited Sister Margaret?”
“Actually, that was all Anne. She loved you like a son, despite my betrayal. You see, I didn’t initially tell her who you were because I thought I was protecting you, but it didn’t take her long to know you were mine. She worried about you because of your connection to my family. She trusted Sister Margaret and she asked the old bird to look out for you when she was gone.”
“Sister Anne was like a mother to me.” Lucien looked down for a moment because he felt that tightening in his chest again. “If you had to leave your son”—he looked back up at Horace—“you left him with the best person you could have.”
“It should have been me raising you, but at least you were loved as a child should be loved.”
Though he was way out of his depth, a slight smile touched Lucien’s lips. He hadn’t been forgotten after all. “I don’t know how to be a son, but I’m willing to give it a try.”
Tears shone in Horace’s eyes when he said, “And that’s all I can ask.”
“But I’m not changing my name from Black.”
“I would have fought you if you had tried.”
“Did you give Sister Anne a locket?”
Pain turned Horace’s voice hoarse. “Yes.”
“And love letters?”
“She kept them?”
“Yes, I have them if you would like them.”
There were tears in his eyes when he said, “I would, very much.”
“You’re a Carmichael,” Darcy said as she lay next to Lucien that night.
“No, I’m a Black.” He pressed a kiss on her head. “I’ll always be a Black.”
“Black’s a good last name. I like that last name,” Darcy said, but her eyes avoided his, as if she were nervous, which was so not Darcy. Lucien grinned.
“Well, Darcy MacBride, what are you hinting at?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you looking to change your last name?”
“What?” she blushed, which only made his grin turn into a smile. He sat up and turned to her. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
The teasing in his voice made Darcy look over at him. To hide the fact that she was feeling a bit off balance, she hit him in the chest. “No.”
“Really? Because it kind of sounds like you are fishing for a proposal.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Oh well. All right, then.” He lowered himself back onto