“Nonsense,” Sarah said recklessly. “I don’t need an introduction, and Mr. Potter is practically a member of the family.”
Before the maid could protest again, Sarah pushed open the parlor doors.
It was difficult to say who was more surprised. Peter Dudley, who had been sitting on the sofa with Letitia, jumped to his feet. Letitia gasped aloud and nearly dropped her baby, whom she was holding gingerly. Amos Potter gasped, too, although Sarah wasn’t quite sure what had surprised him more-the presence of a strange man in Letitia’s parlor or the picturesque family tableau they made, with both father and son’s coppery hair glowing in the afternoon sunshine.
Sarah felt a stab of guilt. She had merely intended to embarrass Letitia by allowing Potter to catch her with Dudley. She’d never expected them to have the baby there. Now, of course, Potter would figure out the whole sordid story in a moment, unless he was far less intelligent than Sarah had judged him to be.
“Amos,” Letitia exclaimed, clutching awkwardly at the baby so he wouldn’t fall to the floor. She had not developed much confidence in handling him yet, probably from lack of practice.
Sarah hurried to assist her, but Dudley beat her to it. He took the baby from her arms and cradled him awkwardly. Which was, unfortunately, the worst thing he could have done. If there was any chance Potter hadn’t noticed the resemblance between them before, he couldn’t miss it now. The two redheads were no more than a foot apart.
“Letitia,” Potter said in a somewhat strangled voice. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting this gentleman. Is he a… a close relative of yours?”
Bless him, Potter was still clinging to a last shred of hope.
The baby, probably feeling insecure in Dudley’s uncertain grasp, began to wail. Dudley tried bouncing him, which only made him cry louder.
“Amos, this is Peter Dudley. He… he’s an old family friend,” Letitia lied, raising her voice to be heard above the baby’s squalling. “Mr. Potter is… was Edmund’s business partner,” she added to Dudley.
Sarah stood back for another moment, observing everyone’s reactions. She told herself this was what Malloy would have done, if he were here, although she doubted he would have enjoyed the scene quite as much as she was. But then, he felt sorry for poor, sweet Letitia, too. Men.
Finally, she’d had her fill, and she stepped forward and took the baby from Dudley’s arms. She crooned to him, and his cries quieted instantly. No one but she seemed to notice the child at all now. She was relieved to see that he seemed to be gaining weight. His little cheeks had filled out, and his arms were developing dimples.
“It… it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter,” Dudley said without much enthusiasm, extending his right hand now that he was no longer encumbered with the baby.
Potter pretended not to notice his hand, or the rest of him either, for that matter. He turned all of his attention to Letitia. “You’re looking well, Letitia,” he said. His voice was strained, but he managed a smile for her.
She favored him with one in return. It was the kind of smile women like Letitia were trained from birth to offer in uncomfortable social situations. If a woman was pretty enough, she could get herself out of almost anything with that smile. This situation would certainly be a test of its effectiveness. “I’m feeling much better, thank you, Amos. It’s kind of you to call. Won’t you sit down?”
Potter hesitated a moment. He obviously wanted to take a seat beside Letitia on the sofa, but Dudley stood in the way. He’d have to shoulder him aside, and although he might want to do that, he decided to concede defeat and took the chair on her other side. Dudley sat back down on the sofa, although he was probably sitting a little farther away from Letitia now than he had been before Sarah and Amos came in.
No one paid the slightest attention to Sarah, so she sat down in the chair across from Letitia and Dudley, settling the baby in her arms. He seemed perfectly content, so she was able to devote herself to observing her other companions.
For a moment no one spoke. Dudley was plainly too socially inept to know how to handle an awkward situation, and Letitia’s social instruction had apparently not included handling such an oddly mismatched assortment of visitors.
Finally, Potter said, “I would very much like to speak with you privately, Letitia. There are some urgent business matters about Edmund’s estate which I need to discuss with you immediately.”
“Good heavens, I don’t know what possible help I could be to you on business matters,” Letitia said. “I don’t know anything at all about them. I’m sure you should do whatever you think is best.”
Potter gave Dudley a glance that said he wished him in Hades, and then he looked back at Letitia and spoke with the patience of one addressing a slow child. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” he said apologetically. “There are some things you need to know, things that will affect your future.”
“Oh, yes,” she said with sudden interest. “I’ve been giving the matter of my future some thought, and I’ve decided I want to sell this house, Amos.”
Potter winced, and Sarah felt a measure of pity for him. The news he would have to break to her would be shocking. “Are you planning to move back to your father’s house?” he asked hopefully.
Letitia’s gaze drifted to Dudley, whose fair complexion showed every emotion. He turned bright red and dropped his gaze.
“I… I haven’t really decided yet,” Letitia said. “But in any case, I don’t need such a grand house anymore.”
“Yes, of course, well, that’s something we’ll need to discuss privately,” he emphasized again. Although he was speaking to Letitia, this time he was watching Dudley. He seemed finally to be getting the entire picture, and he clearly didn’t like it one bit. “Mr. Dudley, I don’t recall ever hearing Mrs. Blackwell speak of you. How long have you known her?”
“I…” Dudley looked to Letitia for guidance, but she just frowned. She wasn’t certain how much to tell Potter either. “I’ve known her for… for several years.”
Potter fingered the Phi Beta Kappa key that hung from his watch chain. “When I was at Harvard, I knew a fellow named Dudley. From Providence. Would you by any chance be a relation?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Dudley admitted, visibly impressed by the mention of Harvard. “I mean, certainly not.”
“Letitia said she knew you from her hometown. Is that where you still live?” Potter inquired.
“No, I…” Again he looked at Letitia, and again he got no assistance. “I live here in the city now. I… I saw the notice of Dr. Blackwell’s death in the newspaper and came to pay my condolences.”
Sarah hadn’t believed that lie the last time he told it, and Potter seemed equally skeptical. He glanced at Sarah-or rather at the baby she still held-and back at Dudley. “I hope you’ve found a suitable position here. If not, I have many connections. Perhaps I can be of assistance in locating one for you.”
“That’s very kind of you, Amos,” Letitia quickly replied, “but Mr. Dudley has an excellent position.”
“Oh, really?” Potter asked skeptically. Dudley’s clothes alone bespoke poverty, and his manner betrayed his lack of breeding. “And where are you situated?”
Dudley stammered the name of the bank where he worked. It was a small establishment, and he was understandably embarrassed to name it. Sarah supposed his position was far from excellent, too.
Potter frowned. “I don’t believe I know where that bank is located.”
Dudley gave him the address, looking even more ashamed.
“I see,” Potter said, his tone telling Dudley that he saw everything about him. The young man had, in Potter’s opinion, no right whatsoever to be sitting in Letitia Blackwell’s parlor. If Potter had, indeed, figured out that Dudley had also fathered her child, Sarah couldn’t even imagine what else he must be thinking.