should never have told you of it,” Anna mumbled. She’d held out for two days, all but bursting at the seams with the secret and the hope it had sparked. In the end, however she’d succumbed to excitement and given Mrs. Culpepper a lengthy, albeit slightly modified, retelling of the night. Anna had wisely chosen to edit out any mention of kissing.
Mrs. Culpepper gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Not everything is meant to be kept secret, poppet.”
“Not everything need come to light.” She contemplated that statement as it pertained to current circumstances and ran a thumb over the binding of the journal on the floor. “What am I to do with this information?”
“Make use of it,” Mrs. Culpepper said, picking up the next page in her stack of letters from the marquess.
“Approach Engsly?” She wrinkled her nose at the idea. “I don’t know that I wish to do that. I don’t care for the idea of visiting the father’s sins upon the sons.”
“Better they be visited upon his daughter?”
That seemed a mite melodramatic. “They’ve not—”
“He ought to have provided for you,” Mrs. Culpepper cut in with a quick, sharp look over her letter.
Anna shrugged. “He may very well have. Or perhaps he knew full well I was someone else’s bastard. Who’s to say Madame doesn’t lie to herself, same as everyone else?”
There was a brief pause before Mrs. Culpepper answered. “The marquess himself.”
“Beg your pardon?”
Mrs. Culpepper offered the pages of the letter. “See for yourself.”
Anna snatched the papers and scanned the contents. It didn’t take long before she found the passage that held her name. The marquess expressed all due pleasure at the news of his infant daughter’s continued good health. The tone of the letter struck Anna as one of mild irritation rather than pleasure, but that hardly registered in the grand scheme of things.
“He acknowledged me?”
Stunned, she shared a look of wonder with her friend before returning her attention to the letter.
“Why on earth would Madame keep that a secret?” she mumbled, going on to the next page, hoping to find a date, at the very least. “What could she possibly stand to gain? Why would he admit paternity and then…” She trailed off as the mention of a contract and a number on the last page caught her eye. “Good heavens.”
“What is it?”
Anna held the page up for Mrs. Culpepper to see. “He says he does not owe fifty pounds per annum for my care; the contract clearly states he must only provide forty.”
“The contract he did not fulfill,” Mrs. Culpepper added and began to rub her hands together and chortle. “The Engsly estate owes you three-and…er…eight-and…Well, let us say six-and-twenty years of allowance. Well over a thousand pounds.”
Over a thousand pounds. It was a fortune. Nowhere near enough to cover the cost of a place like Anover House, but more than ample to procure a cottage in the countryside. More than enough to procure her freedom.
“The Engsly estate is financially well off?”
“Flush these days, by all accounts.”
Then Lord Engsly would scarce note the loss of a thousand pounds. A hard resolve settled over her. “And the current marquess is a man of honor, you say?”
“My dear, he is renowned for it.” A smug smile spread over Mrs. Culpepper’s face. “Oh, sneaking into this room was quite the smartest thing we have ever done. Now, let us see if we might find the contract itself.”
Chapter 4
Max’s arrival at Caldwell Manor played out much as his arrivals always did. He was greeted with polite smiles and commendable efficiency from the staff, and promptly escorted into the small sitting room off the library, where Mrs. Webster, the housekeeper, offered refreshments. Ginger biscuits, his favorite. Max politely declined. The biscuits were brought, anyway.
It was a routine Max took pleasure in, despite its formality. He had been six the
Mrs. Culpepper gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Not everything is meant to be kept secret, poppet.”
“Not everything need come to light.” She contemplated that statement as it pertained to current circumstances and ran a thumb over the binding of the journal on the floor. “What am I to do with this information?”
“Make use of it,” Mrs. Culpepper said, picking up the next page in her stack of letters from the marquess.
“Approach Engsly?” She wrinkled her nose at the idea. “I don’t know that I wish to do that. I don’t care for the idea of visiting the father’s sins upon the sons.”
“Better they be visited upon his daughter?”
That seemed a mite melodramatic. “They’ve not—”
“He ought to have provided for you,” Mrs. Culpepper cut in with a quick, sharp look over her letter.
Anna shrugged. “He may very well have. Or perhaps he knew full well I was someone else’s bastard. Who’s to say Madame doesn’t lie to herself, same as everyone else?”
There was a brief pause before Mrs. Culpepper answered. “The marquess himself.”
“Beg your pardon?”
Mrs. Culpepper offered the pages of the letter. “See for yourself.”
Anna snatched the papers and scanned the contents. It didn’t take long before she found the passage that held her name. The marquess expressed all due pleasure at the news of his infant daughter’s continued good health. The tone of the letter struck Anna as one of mild irritation rather than pleasure, but that hardly registered in the grand scheme of things.
“He acknowledged me?”
Stunned, she shared a look of wonder with her friend before returning her attention to the letter.
“Why on earth would Madame keep that a secret?” she mumbled, going on to the next page, hoping to find a date, at the very least. “What could she possibly stand to gain? Why would he admit paternity and then…” She trailed off as the mention of a contract and a number on the last page caught her eye. “Good heavens.”
“What is it?”
Anna held the page up for Mrs. Culpepper to see. “He says he does not owe fifty pounds per annum for my care; the contract clearly states he must only provide forty.”
“The contract he did not fulfill,” Mrs. Culpepper added and began to rub her hands together and chortle. “The Engsly estate owes you three-and…er…eight-and…Well, let us say six-and-twenty years of allowance. Well over a thousand pounds.”
Over a thousand pounds. It was a fortune. Nowhere near enough to cover the cost of a place like Anover House, but more than ample to procure a cottage in the countryside. More than enough to procure her freedom.
“The Engsly estate is financially well off?”
“Flush these days, by all accounts.”
Then Lord Engsly would scarce note the loss of a thousand pounds. A hard resolve settled over her. “And the current marquess is a man of honor, you say?”
“My dear, he is renowned for it.” A smug smile spread over Mrs. Culpepper’s face. “Oh, sneaking into this room was quite the smartest thing we have ever done. Now, let us see if we might find the contract itself.”
Chapter 4
Max’s arrival at Caldwell Manor played out much as his arrivals always did. He was greeted with polite smiles and commendable efficiency from the staff, and promptly escorted into the small sitting room off the library, where Mrs. Webster, the housekeeper, offered refreshments. Ginger biscuits, his favorite. Max politely declined. The biscuits were brought, anyway.
It was a routine Max took pleasure in, despite its formality. He had been six the
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