ducal.” Sandhurst arched a brow. “I purchased Weston House long before I acquired my rather burdensome new title. As for the children, I love them fiercely. I want them to grow up surrounded by books,” he said, gesturing toward the priceless volumes that filled the shelves. “Reading them, rather than admiring their leatherbound spines.”
Lennox glanced back toward the sketches on Sandhurst’s desk. “I see you are an artist.”
“Ah, well, after a fashion.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “I have always loved to paint and draw, much to the displeasure of my father, the last duke.”
It suddenly made more sense that this Duke of Aylesbury would not be inclined to carry on the grand, haughty ways of his predecessor. “I, too, paint and draw,” Lennox heard himself say.
“My sister tells me you are very talented. While you are here, perhaps we can sketch something together.” The duke finished his wine and set the glass down on a side table. “First, however, I perceive there is something else you wish to discuss with me?”
For a moment, Lennox could scarcely breathe, let alone speak. “Aye,” he managed at length, and reached for the leather pouch at his waist. As he drew out the miniature, the duke held up a hand.
“I must tell you, before you say another word, that when I first saw you at the water-gate, I thought you were someone else, magically made younger.”
A wave of emotion washed over Lennox. He knows! His heart leaped with hope, yet another barrier might still wait ahead. Holding his breath, he held out the small, oval portrait.
“Do you know this man? Is he the person you imagined I resemble?”
Sandhurst leaned forward, took it from him, and studied it. When he looked up, Lennox thought he saw a telltale gleam in his brown eyes. “It is. I knew him, looking just like this, many years ago. Before I tell you his name, will you explain your connection, and how you came to possess this miniature?”
As Lennox told the story of his parents and the quarrel that caused Eleanor MacLeod to flee from the Isle of Skye to Duart Castle, he was filled with mixed feelings. He longed to know the truth, yet a part of him sensed that a door was about to open that he would be powerless to close, no matter what lay on the other side.
“Before my mother died three years ago, she gave a jeweled casket to my sister Fiona. The box recently fell from a shelf, and we discovered a false bottom, with this miniature and a lock of golden hair hidden inside. Of course, it was as if I was seeing myself, garbed as an Englishman.” Lennox paused, raking a hand through his hair. “I discovered that my brother Ciaran, who had gone with Ma to Duart Castle as a wee lad, knew the truth, that the man in this portrait was my true father. I then confronted Da, and he admitted he had known as well, after finding letters between Ma and this man.”
“But they kept the truth from you,” said Sandhurst.
“Aye. All my life. It seemed no one wanted to upset me, but I always sensed something was amiss.” He met the duke’s compassionate gaze. “And I never felt I completely belonged to clan MacLeod. I was raised to hunt and fight battles with rival clans, but in truth, I’ve always preferred to draw stags than to kill them.”
Sandhurst nodded thoughtfully as he held up the miniature. “If you are indeed this man’s son, it is no surprise that you felt uneasy as a Highlander.”
“Are ye prepared now to divulge his name to me?” Lennox asked, unable to hold back another moment.
“I want very much to do so, but I hesitate to say too much until I have had a chance to speak to him myself. Once we can talk to him and learn whether he visited Duart Castle in the year of your birth, we will know much more.” He paused. “And if all of this is true, he may wish to leave the past where it has been all these years. That would be his right.”
“Ach.” Lennox drew a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. The waiting was agony, but he had no choice. “I can see that ye are right, sir, and I am grateful for your help.”
As if realizing that Lennox needed a few crumbs of information to sustain him, the duke said softly, “I will tell you this much: My friend