Great-Grandpapa had just two sons, did he not?" "Your grandfather and mine," Constantine Huxtable said. "And then there were your father and mine. And then my brother - my /younger /brother, who is recently deceased. And you. Earl of Merton. My felicitations." He sketched Stephen another bow.
So Constantine Huxtable and Viscount Lyngate were first cousins - their mothers were sisters. But it was another relationship that Vanessa was working out in her head. So were her siblings by the looks on their faces. Stephen was staring at their second cousin, his brow knit in thought. "There is something here I do not understand," he said. "You are the elder brother of the earl who just died? Ought not you to have been - ?
Ought not you to be - ?" "The Earl of Merton myself?" Mr. Huxtable laughed. "I missed my chance for glory by two days, lad. That is what comes of being too eager in this life. May it be a lesson to you. My mother was Greek, daughter of an ambassador to London. She met my father when she was visiting her sister, who had married Viscount Lyngate and lived with him at nearby Finchley Park. But it was not until after her return to Greece with her papa, my grandfather, that she confessed to being in an, ah, interesting condition. He marched her back across Europe in high dudgeon. He demanded that my father do the decent thing - which he did. But I would not wait for the fairy-tale ending - or beginning - to my own story. I bowed to the stress of a sea crossing that had incapacitated my mother, and I made my squalling appearance in this world two days before my father could procure a special license and marry her. Thus I was and am and forever will be an illegitimate son. My esteemed parents had to wait another ten years for the arrival of a live and legitimate heir.
Jonathan. He would have been more than delighted to make the acquaintance of all these new cousins. Would he not, Elliott?" He looked at Viscount Lyngate, one eyebrow cocked in what Vanessa suspected was mockery.
Clearly there was no love lost between the cousins. "But he died a few months ago," Mr. Huxtable continued, "several years later than the physicians had predicted. And so, here you are, the new and legitimate Earl of Merton and his sisters. I assume these ladies /are /all sisters, including Mrs. Dew? Mrs. Forsythe, we will have tea in the drawing room." He spoke with absolute authority and with an aristocratic ease of manner, as if after all he were the Earl of Merton and owner of Warren Hall. "That is the saddest story I have ever heard," Katherine said, gazing at him wide-eyed. "I must write a story about it." Constantine Huxtable turned his smile on her. "In which I figure as the tragic hero?" he said. "But there are compensations for having been born two days too soon, I do assure you. A certain freedom, for example, which neither Merton nor my cousin Elliott here can enjoy." He bowed to Margaret. "Miss Huxtable, may I have the pleasure of escorting you upstairs?" Margaret stepped forward and set a hand on his arm, and he led her through the arch by which he had entered the hall a few minutes ago.
Stephen and Katherine followed close behind, gazing with eager interest at this newfound cousin. Viscount Lyngate exchanged a glance with Mr.
Bowen before offering his arm to Vanessa again. "I do apologize," he said. "He /was /asked to leave." "But why?" she asked. "He /is /our cousin, is he not, and has welcomed us with considerable courtesy when he might have resented us - or Stephen anyway. His story /is /true, is it? He grew up here as the firstborn son of the Earl and Countess of Merton?" "It is true. But English law is quite rigid in such matters," he said. "There would be no way to make him legitimate even if there had been no other descendants of his line to inherit." "But if there had not," Vanessa said as they walked through the arch and came to a magnificent marble staircase that wound its way upward, "he might have petitioned the king to grant him the title, might he not?" Had she not read about such a thing somewhere? "I suppose he might," Viscount Lyngate said. "A lawyer would know the legalities of such a claim and the likelihood of his petition being granted. But there /was /a descendant - your brother." How could he /not /resent Stephen? Vanessa wondered as she looked up the stairs to where Constantine Huxtable was smiling at Margaret and bending his head to listen to something she said. It must seem to him that a crowd of strangers was invading his home.
He had been asked to leave his own home - by his younger brother's guardian. By his own first cousin - his mother and Viscount Lyngate's had been sisters. "He is trouble, Mrs. Dew," Viscount Lyngate said, his voice low. "He can mean only mischief by remaining here. You must not allow yourself to be deceived by his charm, which he has always possessed in abundance. Your brother must be quite firm with him. He must be given a week's notice at the longest. He has had enough time to find another home and pack his belongings." "But this /is /his home," Vanessa said, frowning. "This is where he has always belonged. It would have been his if he had been born two days later." "But he was not," Viscount Lyngate said firmly as they followed the others into a drawing room. "And life is made up of what-ifs. There is no point in allowing ourselves to be distracted by them. What-ifs are not reality. The reality is, Mrs. Dew, that Con Huxtable is an illegitimate son of a former earl, while your brother is the Earl of Merton. It would be a mistake to be swayed by pity." But if one never felt pity for a fellow human, Vanessa thought, one was surely not fully human oneself, was one? That made Viscount Lyngate a little less than human. She looked at him, still frowning. Did he have /no /feeling for others, even his own cousin?
But he had moved away from her to stride forward to Stephen's side.
Stephen was gazing admiringly at Constantine Huxtable. So was Katherine.
Margaret was regarding him kindly. Vanessa smiled at him, though he was not looking her way.
What a dreadful day this must be for him. The fact that he was meeting four new cousins, all of whom would surely be kindly disposed toward him, must seem poor comfort.
For a few minutes Vanessa had forgotten her initial awe at a mansion that was magnificent beyond anything she had dreamed of. But the awe returned suddenly. The drawing room was large and square with a high, coved ceiling, painted with some scene from mythology and trimmed lavishly with gold. The furniture was elegant and the draperies of wine-colored velvet. Paintings in heavy gold frames covered the walls.
There was a large Persian carpet underfoot, fringed by wood so highly polished that surely one would see one's face in it if one bent forward.
Vanessa felt a surge of unexpected longing for Rundle Park - as if she had abandoned Hedley there.
She must not - she /would /not - forget him.
Her eyes rested upon Viscount Lyngate, who even without his greatcoat still looked large and imposing and virile and masculine. And handsome, of course. And very much alive.
She resented him greatly.
Elliott and Con Huxtable had been the closest of friends all their lives - until just a year ago, in fact. The three-year gap in their ages - Elliott was the elder - had not mattered one whit. They had lived only five miles apart, they were cousins, neither had had many other playmates in their neighborhoods, and they had enjoyed doing the same sorts of things - mostly outdoor sports and other vigorous, energetic games that involved climbing trees and diving into pools and wading through muddy bogs and devising other such strenuous activities that had filled their days with exercise and fun and got them into a great deal of trouble with their respective nurses.