He knew. But how did Rex know that name was the correct one? The earl lifted his son to sit on his lap in the worn leather armchair, glad he could still cuddle with this boy he loved so much, and wanted so much to protect. His son would grow past kisses and confidences soon enough. Why, he was in long dresses just yesterday, it seemed. Now he wore short pants and skinned knees, bloodied noses instead of diapers. The earl sighed and said, "Tell me, Rex, can you always tell when someone is lying? Not just a guess, and not just when you know the truth?"
"Like when Cook says there are no more macaroons, because she is saving some for her own supper, or when Nanny says she is visiting her sister on her afternoons off?"
The earl vowed to find out exactly where the nursemaid was going on her free time, and why Cook would lie to the boy, but not now. "Like that. How do you know? How do you know I did not eat the rest of the macaroons, or that Nanny is not going where she says?"
Rex frowned and hunched his shoulders. "I just do. Don't you know, Papa?"
Lord Royce brushed back his son's dark curls and kissed his forehead. "Yes, I do. I was hoping you did not."
"I don't understand, Papa."
"No, I do not suppose you do. I will do my best to explain, but I fear I cannot understand all of it myself."
Rex nodded solemnly. "That's true."
"I always tell you the truth. Except when we are playing games, like before." When the boy just stared up at him expectantly, the earl cleared his throat and went on: "Not everyone can tell a lie from the truth. Only a lucky few."
"You mean I can tell Vicar that Timmy wanted to steal the apples, and Mr. Anselm will believe me?"
"No, that is not what I mean. Not at all. You must not lie, ever, not even if you will not be found out. You have a gift, and must treat it honorably."
"Like my horse?"
"Yes. Just as you must care for the mare and never mistreat her, you must also show respect for this other gift."
"I do not know if I want this one, Papa."
"I am afraid you have no choice. Men in the Royce family have had the truth-seeing back through the ages. Now, it seems, you do, too."
Rex considered that for a moment. "And no one else does?"
"No, and you must never tell anyone of this gift, for they will think you… odd." Just how odd, the earl did not want to tell his son; how the talent for truth-seeing was frightening to some, horrifying to others-including Lord Royce's own wife, Rex's mother. But he had to make the boy understand. "One of our ancestors, Sir Royston, was hanged as a wizard."
Rex's dark blue eyes grew round as he thought of Merlin and magic and all the creatures in his fairy stories. "You mean I can change Timmy Burdock into a toad?"
"No. I mean Sir Royston's ability to recognize the truth was so uncanny, so different from what other people knew, that they thought he was sent by the Devil. He was not, of course. Such a gift"-if a gift it was, and the earl was never sure-"could only come from heaven. His son, and all of the Royce sons who came after, were more careful. They became magistrates and ambassadors and advisors to the Crown, all positions where knowing the truth was valuable, but they never let on about the talent." They'd become wealthy through knowledgeable investments, well titled for service to the country, and well respected for their sense of honor. "People admired them as wise men."
"Like you, Papa. Daniel's mother says you are the bestest, fairest judge in all of England."
The earl laughed. "Daniel's mother is my own sister. You must not put credit in her boasting."
Rex shook his head. "No, it's true. I can tell, remember."
"And if I say you are the best son in the entire world, would you believe me?"
With a gap-toothed grin the boy replied, "Of course, it is true-blue," which earned him another hug.
"Soon you must learn to be a bit more discriminating between truth-saying," the earl said, "and when someone believes what they say; when it is true to them. Of course your aunt Cora believes I am wise beyond measure. That does not necessarily make it true."
"It is true," Rex insisted.
"Thank you, my lad. But other judges' families must also consider their relative the wisest, just as every patriot believes his country the finest, and every believer feels his religion is the only path to heaven. The truth is not always black and white, you see."
"Of course not. It is blue."
"Pardon? The truth is blue?"
Now the boy looked uncertain. "That's what I said. Don't you know it, Papa? Can you not see it?"
"Do you mean the truth is… a color to you?"
"Of course. When someone lies, that's red. When they think they are telling the truth, like you just said, then it's yellow. Vicar Anselm talks yellow a lot. Except when he tells Mrs. Anselm's mother she is welcome to come visit. That's a big fat red lie. And sometimes people say things that are like rainbows, because they don't know, but hope so, I guess. And sometimes their words are all mud-colored-when they are confused, I think. Don't you see the colors when people talk?"
"No, I don't. I hear the truth in their words, like the purest note. A lie jangles, like when the pianoforte is out of tune, or when a church bell is cracked. My father said he always got a headache when a lie was told, and his father could smell the truth. One of our ancestors grew hot or cold, and another felt a buzzing in his ear. You see, the gift appears to everyone differently. No Royce ever saw colors, not that I ever heard of, so your gift is special, lucky boy."
The earl was not sure his son was so lucky after all, and now that he knew the boy could sense his uncertainty, he explained: "Sometimes even the most wonderful of gifts has disadvantages. What if Midnight bolts at thunderstorms or gnaws on the paddock gates? What if your old pony grows sad when you ride Midnight instead? Just so, knowing the truth is not always comfortable."
"Like?"
"Like when I say I will punish you for stealing Widow Flood's apples if Mr. Anselm does not. You know it is true, but you might wish it otherwise. Or when your friends tell fibs rather than hurt your feelings. White lies, they are called."
"Like when Nanny says I look handsome, even with my tooth missing? I know she is telling a Banbury tale."
"Or when we went into the village yesterday, and the apothecary told Mrs. Aldershot what a pretty baby she had, and told Lady Crowley her bonnet was charming. Such sour notes I heard! But just think if they knew he was lying. Their feelings would be hurt."
Rex giggled. "Not as much as if he said the baby looked like a monkey and the hat looked like a coal scuttle."
The earl ruffled his son's curls. "Those are polite lies, and you will have to get used to them if you want to go out in the world."
"Will I have to tell them?"
"Of course not. You can be polite without speaking a falsehood. You can tell Mrs. Aldershot how amazingly small her infant's hands are, and tell Lady Crowley that her new hat suits her. Or you can say nothing at all. Just tip your hat and smile."
"The way you did, Papa?"
"Precisely. But there is a worse disadvantage to our gift than knowing false compliments for Spanish coin. Sometimes people will fear you. They cannot understand how you know they lie, and so they are afraid you can read their thoughts. Then you lose their trust, or else they are wary of saying anything at all."
"Is that what happened with Mama?"
"No, she-" He could not lie, not to his own son. "Yes. Partly. There were other reasons she left, reasons that had nothing to do with truth or lies."
They were both silent, thinking of the countess so far away in London. They were both wondering what they could have done or said to change her mind and make her stay. They were both missing her. The earl was drinking to dull his pain; the boy was fighting to relieve his anger. They both had tears now in their similar, startling blue eyes.