"It can't be true. Angelique would have told me."
"From what I've learned, she discovered your betrothal to Lady Sarah Wickham, the woman you later wed. Angelique must have decided to keep her secret. She died when the little girl was four years old."
Kinleigh sat unmoving. A fine tremor shook the hand that held the brandy. "Perhaps the girl is mistaken. Perhaps her father is someone else."
"I don't think so, sir. She carries the same mark your son Bronson carries on his shoulder. I remembered seeing it when we were at Oxford together. When I pressed her about the mark, she admitted that you were her father. She told me the story of her mother and how much Angelique loved you."
Something flickered in the Marquess's eyes. He looked years older than he had when Caleb walked into the room. "If my Angel had a daughter… if what you are saying is true…" He shook his head. "Dear God, what have I done?"
His gaze fixed on the glass of brandy he gripped in his hand. He stared into the amber liquid as if it were a door leading into the past.
"I loved her so much. I knew about Angelique's mother, of course, Simone Durant. Everyone did. But Angel wasn't like that. She was sweet and gentle. She didn't want that sort of life. More than anything in the world, she wanted a husband and family."
"How did the two of you meet?" Caleb gently prodded.
"Simone owned a number of different estates. She was wealthy by then. One of her properties was a small manor house next to an estate my father owned in Kent. The Durant women spent time there in the summers. It was purely by chance that I met her daughter that day down by the stream."
His hand trembled and brandy sloshed up on the side of the glass. "Angelique Durant was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen. Long red hair and the prettiest smile… this deep, warm sort of laughter. She had tied up her skirt that day and was wading barefoot in the water. I was enchanted. I fell in love with her the first moment I saw her." He glanced up and there were tears in his eyes. "And I will love her until the day I die."
Caleb looked away from the pain in the marquess's face.
Kinleigh's voice turned rough as he went on. "When my family found out I'd been seeing her, they were horrified. I was young but already a widower with a two-year-old son. The scandal would ruin the family, they said, ruin Bronson's life as well as my own. I didn't want to listen. I wanted Angelique. She was all I ever wanted. But I had Bronson's future to consider. In the end, I gave in to the pressure. I married Sarah—and regretted it the rest of my life."
The marquess looked up. "I never cheated on Sarah. The only woman I ever wanted was Angelique and I could not have her." The marquess struggled to collect himself and Caleb couldn't help feeling sorry for him.
"If you loved Angelique as you say," Caleb said gently, "there is something you can do to make amends. You can see to the future of your daughter."
Kinleigh stared off toward the window. "Tell me about her."
Lee's image appeared in his mind and Caleb felt the pull of a smile. "She is lovely, as you say her mother was, with the same fiery hair and sunny smile. She is independent in the extreme, with money of her own, and an education some men would envy. She plays the harp like an angel, she loves horse racing and manages her own small stable—and she rides like the wind." Once Caleb started talking, he couldn't seem to stop. "She never puts herself above anyone else. She thinks of her servants as friends and cares for a number of those less fortunate. Simply put, your daughter, sir, is quite unique."
The marquess watched him closely. "It's obvious you care for the girl. What is it you aren't telling me?"
Caleb's stomach knotted. This was the part of the story he dreaded. "She's a Durant, my lord. After her mother died, she was raised to follow in that tradition."
One of his silver eyebrows shot up. "Are you telling me my daughter is a courtesan?"
"No, sir." He cleared his throat. "The only man who has ever touched her… is me." Briefly he explained the mistake that had resulted in his daughter's loss of virtue. "If you want me to wed her, I will, but—"
"But? You tell me you have seduced my daughter and then seek excuses not to marry her?"
"My life is the army, sir. You know that as well as I do. And you also understand what that means. I'll be returning to duty in Spain in ten more days. The battlefield is hardly the place for a lady. I want your daughter to be happy. With me, I'm not certain she ever would be. Aside from that, I'm not the least bit certain she would agree. Vermillion doesn't much believe in marriage. I think you can understand why."
He flushed, color creeping into the gray at his temples. "Vermillion? That is my daughter's name?"
He nodded. "Yes, but she prefers to call herself Lee. That is her middle name. Vermillion Lee Durant."
The marquess's throat moved up and down. The moisture returned to his eyes and he stood up from his chair, walked over to the mullioned windows. "That is my name as well. Robert Leland Montague. Angelique always… she always called me Lee." His hands were shaking. He took a healthy swig of his brandy, then set the glass down on the mother-of-pearl inlaid top of a black lacquer table.
"If you will excuse me, Caleb. I need some time to adjust to this news you have brought."
"Of course, my lord. I'll be returning to London. You may reach me at my father's town house in Berkeley Square."
Kinleigh took a step toward him as if he wished to block his escape. "Is there… is there a chance you will stay to supper? I should like to hear more of this daughter of mine." He gazed off again, as if the past were right there in the room. "I always wanted a daughter. Aside from Angelique, it was my heart's greatest desire. If you would stay, perhaps we could arrange a time when it might be possible for me to meet the daughter I didn't know I had."
The pressure in Caleb's chest began to ease. "Yes, sir. I suddenly find myself inordinately hungry. I should be delighted to stay for supper."
The marquess simply nodded, his gaze sliding back to the window.
Caleb turned away and quietly left the drawing room, pretending not to notice the tears on the older man's cheeks.
21
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"You did what?" Standing in the sitting room of her hotel suite, wearing one of her new muslin gowns, Lee clamped her hands on her hips. "That is where you have been? You said you had an important meeting out of town that might keep you overnight. You never mentioned Kinleigh. You never said you were going to see him! You never said a word, Caleb. I can't believe you would do such a thing!"
"I told you I had an important meeting out of town and I did." He had known she would be angry, furious, in fact. Her eyes were bright and snapping, her cheeks as fiery as her hair. But there was no help for it. He'd had to do what he did. Now all he had to do was find a way to make her see reason. "He didn't know about you, Lee. Your mother never told him she was carrying his child."
"I don't blame her! The man is a blackguard. He is selfish and cruel and I hate him for what he did to her."
"And for what he did to you?" he asked softly, knowing the pain she must have felt as a child, abandoned by her father, grieving for her mother. "Isn't that right, Lee?"
She spun away from him, walked over to the hearth, and turned her back to him. He could see a frantic pulse beating in the side of her neck.
Caleb walked up behind her, gently rested his hands on her shoulders. "I can only imagine what you must be feeling. My father and I never got along, not until after I went into the army. But he was always there if I needed him. I knew that. That kind of caring isn't something you've ever had, Lee."
She whirled to face him. "My aunt cared for me. She has always loved me. I don't need Kinleigh. I didn't need him when I was a child and I don't need him now!"