private. Lady Whitmore in public.”
“But there is no Lady Whitmore. Only a Duchess of Vexen.”
She shook her head. “The disgraced duchess is dead. I am Lady Whitmore.”
He was frowning again. “No. You must come home and take your rightful place. Honor demands it.”
She smiled. “Whose honor, Leonard? My dear, I will not rake up old scandal again. My place is here in a life I love. And there will be a new duchess soon enough.”
If she sought to distract him with that implication, it failed. He did not give up so easily, but he saved the fight for later, instead saying, “I understand I have a sister.”
She inclined her head. “Ferdinand’s daughter.”
“Where is she?” he asked. “Did you abandon her, too?” He regretted it almost at once, for her pale cheeks whitened further. “Forgive me,” he muttered. “But I need to find my sister. Where is she?”
“I’m afraid I cannot tell you. It is up to her to make herself known if she wishes it.”
“Why is everything such a damnable secret?” he burst out. “Do I not have the right to know my sister? To know that she is safe and cared for?”
“She is. As for the rest, you must be patient. The world, Leo, does not revolve around only your needs.”
“So, I’m beginning to discover,” he said grimly.
“It is not meant to punish you, but to protect her. If she reveals herself, do you not realize she, too, will have to face the scandal of being a by-blow?”
“Mother!” It came out so naturally, if not uneasily, that Leonard surprised himself. “Lady Whitmore,” he quickly corrected, “I am astonished that such words would come out of your mouth.”
“Not my words,” she said. “Society’s very own term for such an unfortunate child. Would bastard be more suitable?”
If he could, the duke would rip his hair out strand by strand to ease the building pressure in his chest. He paced away from her, stared out the mullioned windows, then walked back to her. “We can never return to the lives we were leading just twenty minutes ago. We are bound by more than just honor… Blood.”
“Yes,” she agreed, renewed strength in her voice. “Whether I am Lady Whitmore or a long-forgotten duchess, makes no difference. I am still your mother, am I not?”
Irritation rose inside him, knowing he’d spend countless nights awake, wondering what his life would have been like if he’d had her in it. It made no difference really, not if common sense, of which he had copious amounts, ruled his heart. He must accept the facts of his old life and the change in the one moving forward. There must be a way to join the two, to find peace for everyone involved. The one thing he did know… “I will never allow you to leave me again.” That decision was non-negotiable as he stared down at her, in awe and tender feelings.
Tears wet the corners of her eyes, and she sniffled. “I would expect nothing less from my son.” She reached her hand out, and he took it immediately, dropping to his knee in front of her, kissing her knuckles, and bowing his head.
“I have waited a lifetime for this,” he said, choking on his words. “Have seen your sweet face a thousand times in my dreams. Father never spoke of you. Often times I begged for information about you, wanting to know you as any boy would wish to get close to his deceased mother, but he forbade it. Only one thing remained…”
“Yes?” She rested her hand on the top of his head, and Leonard gazed up at her.
He slowly climbed to his feet, reached inside his coat, and pulled out a small, oval-shaped locket. “This.” He offered it to her.
She took it and opened it to reveal a miniature painting of herself on one side, and Leonard’s likeness as a child on the other. Her mouth fell open as she glanced up at him. “He let you keep this?”
“Yes.”
“This was a gift for my birthday from your father. Before I left, I set this by your bedside. Perhaps your father had a soft side after all.” She closed the locket and handed it back to him. “The image of your dear face has never left me, Leonard. Never.”
“I must ask…” he hesitated.
“Ask me anything, you deserve what answers I can give.”
“No.”
“Please.”
He turned away, took a fortifying breath, then faced her again. “Why didn’t you keep a lover, like so many wedded men and women do?”
She did