Page 47 of His Improper Lady

“I’m afraid the girls have gone shopping,” the duchess told her sons. “Sabrina wanted more yarn.”

“More?” Alex smiled. “She must have ten blankets already.”

“Oh, well, these are for the coming baby, not yours.”

“Lilah went out?” Con’s expression turned worried.

“Yes, dear, women do that, even when they are expecting,” his mother said, a twinkle in her eye.

“But the air is thick today. And it’s rather hot.”

“She took a parasol with her. And the air is always thick. Do sit down, Con, and stop fidgeting. What brings you here today? Happy as I am for you to join us, I suspect you have some motive other than the pleasure of our company.”

“You know me well.” Con gave in to his mother’s request. “We came to talk to Uncle Bellard, actually. About family history.”

The old man beside her perked up. “Indeed? What’s the question, dear boy?”

“Well, um...” Con stopped, his gaze going to Desiree. “I’m sorry, Miss Malone. Perhaps you’d rather not?”

“Go on. It’s all right.” Desiree had little desire to air her history in the duchess’s presence, but this was what she’d been searching for a long time.

“Miss Malone is trying to find her father. She thinks he may have been a Moreland.”

“A Moreland?” Bellard looked at her in surprise, adjusting his spectacles. “But who—”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out. That’s why we came to you. She doesn’t know who her father is. He was...” Con paused again, obviously searching for a polite way to tell the story.

“I am illegitimate,” Desiree told Bellard.

“Oh. Well. I see.” But the old man still looked a bit confused.

“You don’t know who he is? You mean he abandoned you and your mother?” The duchess’s voice rose in shock and indignation. “A Moreland? Bellard, do you know who it is?”

“No, my dear, I’ve never heard anything about it.” He turned back to Desiree. “Are you sure he was a Moreland, child?”

Desiree pulled out Brock’s ring and handed it to him. As he took it from her, she saw that the old man wore a ring like it.

“Well! My goodness.” He pushed his spectacles back onto the top of his head and brought the ring close to his eyes. “Yes, it certainly looks like one.” He handed it to Desiree and sat back, looking thoughtful.

Desiree told him what she knew about her parents, reluctant to look at the duchess. When she finished, though, it was the duchess who spoke first. “It’s unconscionable! Men have their way and then casually walk off, leaving the mother to bear all the burden. For them to live in poverty. I’m appalled that a Moreland would do such a thing!”

“Do such a what, dear?” A man strolled into the room. He gave everyone a vague smile as he went straight to the duchess to kiss her on the cheek and sit down beside her. The man, whom Desiree assumed was the Duke of Broughton, glanced around the room. “Why, hello, Con. Alex. I didn’t realize you were here. And Tom.” He paused when his eyes reached Desiree. “I’m sorry, do I know you? I’m a bit poor at remembering names.”

This remark drew a hastily covered snort from Con, and Alex said, “No, Papa, this is Miss Malone. Con and I met her this morning.”

“Ah, Miss Malone. Are you related to that American antiquarian?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s good.” He nodded. “The man doesn’t know a Theban knife from a Roman gladius.” His eyes fell on the tea cart. “I say, is it time for tea already? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I’d been in the workroom so long.”

“No, dear. Uncle Bellard and I were just taking a light luncheon. I was feeling a mite peckish.”

“What she means, Hal, is that I forgot breakfast again,” Bellard said with a smile at the duchess. “I’m sorry, Emmeline, but I was lost among the Plantagenets this morning.”

Desiree sneaked a glance at Tom to see if he was as at sea as she was. He again gave a little shrug, a smile teasing at his lips.

“Ah, excellent.” The duke nodded as if Bellard’s statement made perfect sense, and he turned back to his wife. Taking her hand in his and patting it, he said, “Now, love, what has you in such a pet?”