for the blood relationship between them—after all, he was the one who’d been trying to drive Kat and me apart for years. But it took me a long time to forgive him for the undisguised satisfaction he showed at finally achieving what he had worked so hard to accomplish.”
She started to say, But if you have forgiven him, then why are you still estranged from him? Only, something in his face made her hold her peace.
He drained his glass and went to pour himself another brandy, as if he felt the need to put some distance between them. He said, “And then, last May, I discovered that in December of 1781, Hendon sailed for America on a secret mission for the King.”
Hero stared at him. Jarvis had sailed on that mission too. She tried to recall if she’d known the date of their sailing, if she knew when—
He said, “I will turn thirty next month. I assume you can do the sums?”
She watched him set aside the brandy decanter, watched him carefully replace the stopper, and understood finally what he was trying to tell her. “Are you certain Hendon’s not—”
“Yes. He tried to deny it at first, but in the end he was forced to admit the truth.”
“Do you know who—”
“No. My mother never said.” He stared at her from across the length of the room.
His mother, Hero knew, had disappeared at sea years ago, when Devlin was still a child.
Hero was suddenly aware of the fury of the storm, of the wind rattling the windowpanes in their frames and the rain pounding on the terrace paving. He said, “I would have told you before we married, had the circumstances been different. But as it was . . .”
She said, “Jarvis knew. He was on that ship with your father. So he’s always known.”
“Yes.”
Yet he hadn’t told her. Why? she wondered. Aloud, she said, “And the Bishopsgate tavern owner? Jamie Knox? Where does he fit in all this?”
“I honestly don’t know. He could conceivably be my half brother. Or a cousin, perhaps. I find it difficult to believe the resemblance between us is nothing more than a coincidence. Unfortunately, his own paternity is . . . cloudy.”
When she remained silent, he said, “I will understand if this knowledge alters your opinion of me.”
“It hasn’t lowered it, if that’s what you mean.” She drew a deep breath that shuddered her chest. “Why now? Why did you decide to tell me this now?”
“Because I realized I don’t want this secret between us anymore.”
She suddenly felt both humbled and oddly, buoyantly hopeful. “I’ve kept secrets from you,” she said quietly.
“You’ve kept your father’s secrets. There is a difference.”
Then the full implications of what he’d told her struck her. “So Kat Boleyn is not your half sister?”
“No. And Hendon knew it all along, damn his hide. He knew it, and he kept it to himself because he realized he’d finally hit upon the one sure thing that would keep us apart.”
And that, Hero now realized, was what had caused this new, intractable estrangement between the two men.
She said, “Hendon could have repudiated you years ago, but he didn’t. It could only be because he cares for you—loves you—as a father. He did what he thought was right for you.”
“Hendon did what he thought was right for the St. Cyr name and the St. Cyr bloodline. Nothing is more important to Hendon than fulfilling what he believes is owed to his heritage. Nothing.”
“But the cousin who stands behind you in succession—”
“The distant cousin who would become Viscount Devlin in my stead is in reality a vicar’s by-blow, whereas my mother was herself a St. Cyr, through her grandmother. So you see, St. Cyr blood does flow in my veins, even if it didn’t come from Hendon himself.”
“I think you do Hendon an injustice. Kat Boleyn is his daughter. If you had married her, then your child—your heir—would have been his own grandson.”
Devlin gave a soft, humorless laugh. “An actress’s son as the future Earl of Hendon? Hendon would stop at little short of murder to prevent such an abomination from ever coming to pass.”
She turned to stare out the window at the storm-thrashed garden. “Yet if Yates hangs for this murder, you could now marry Kat . . . if you weren’t married to me.”
“Hero . . .” He came to stand behind her. She was aware of his hands hovering for a moment over her shoulders without touching her. Then he turned her in