“But what of her daughter Camille?” The barrister smiled knowingly, looking over his wireframe glasses. “I understand you have interest in that direction. Very wise. Though there’s no longer any money in that family. Her father, Lord Danby, Lady Wessex’s previous husband, was not only a powerful man, but well-respected. His entailment also went to a distant relative, I understand.”
/> “What are you talking about?” Blake demanded. He wasn’t sleeping well and he was eager to return home to Boston. He had cancelled a business meeting to come here in the hopes that Stowe would have news that would assist in seeing him on his way. “I’m not even certain which one is Camille.” Blake frowned as he tried not to think about the bony young women with their thin hair and bad complexions. “I barely speak to Lady Wessex’s daughters and none have certainly ever spoken back.”
Stowe returned his gaze to the documents before him on his desk. “Yes, well…”
“Yes, well, what?” Blake commanded. “You called me for a reason. Papers to sign, more bills to pay, perhaps?”
“Yes, yes, of course. A few documents, but also…” Stowe looked up, then down and then up again. “A delicate matter that has come to my attention.”
Blake waited.
“There is a young woman who—” Stowe’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he attempted to find the right words “—who claims she is the late Lord Wessex’s legitimate daughter.”
Blake shot out his chair. “She’s been here, too?” he asked. “That little conniving…” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, staring down at the waxed wood floor as he walked around the back of the chair and began to pace. “Persistent little minx, though, isn’t she?” he said as much to himself as to Stowe.
“Then you’ve spoken with her, my lord?”
“She’s a charlatan, just like the others who have darkened my door since my arrival in London, laying claim to monies or favors owed.”
“This…” Stowe caught his breath and then went on. “This young woman asks for no monies, or even favors. She simply requests that she be acknowledged as Lord Wessex’s legitimate daughter.”
“How the hell could that girl be Wessex’s daughter? His first wife, the first I know of, died in childbirth with their first child eighteen years ago. He was only married to this one, his supposed second wife—” he hooked his thumb over his shoulder, continuing to pace “—ten or twelve years.”
“This young woman, her name is Sapphire Fabergine—”
“I know what her name is,” Blake snapped. “She’s been plaguing me for weeks.”
Stowe was silent for a moment and then continued. “She claims her mother was legally wed to Lord Wessex approximately twenty years ago. Her mother was a poor, uneducated country girl, so the family was, of course, completely against any union between them. She asserts that when the Thixton family discovered the couple had married, they had the young woman kidnapped and sent to America, where she gave birth to Edward’s daughter, the young Miss Sapphire. Apparently the Dowager Wessex would be his third wife…of sorts.”
“It’s a preposterous story! A lie built upon lies to help the girl move up the ladder of London society.”
“Yes, my lord, it sounds preposterous, but sometimes the most outrageous accounts are the ones that are true. This would not be the first time a good family has attempted to erase a bad marriage from the annals of history. With this in mind, I was wondering if you would object to my researching the girl’s claim. At my own expense, of course,” Jessup added quickly.
Blake halted, resting one hand on the soft, rich leather of the chair. Stowe had surprised him again and he liked being surprised by people because it happened so rarely. Jessup Stowe was a man of stronger character than he appeared on the surface. “I’m telling you, the whole story is ridiculous. I don’t care what this girl says she wants, she’s just more cunning than the others. She wants money, which you and I both know doesn’t exist.”
“Just these few documents have need of your signature, my lord.” Stowe pushed them across the desk and offered an ink pen.
Blake came around the chair and leaned over the desk to scrawl his signature.
Stowe waited until the documents were signed and Blake had slid them back across the table. “So you have no objections to me making a few inquiries?”
Blake turned to stroll out of the office, raising one hand. “Do what you like, Stowe. Just get this paperwork done so I can get the hell out of England.”
“Where are you going, love?” Jessup put out his arms, watching Lucia in the candlelight as she crossed his bedchamber completely unclothed. His heart felt like it would pound right out of his chest. Never in their entire life together had his dearly departed Emma ever allowed him to see her nude. “Come back,” he beckoned.
“I told you, Jessup, my chicks. I must go home.” She picked up a silk dressing robe from the chair in the corner of the room and slipped it around her shoulders, giving him one more glimpse of her pale, lovely breasts before she covered them.
“But what will I do when you go? I’ll miss you too much to bear it.”
She laughed and walked back to the bed to sit on the edge. “What will you do? The same thing every man does after he makes love to a woman. You’ll roll over in your comfortable bed and be asleep before my carriage departs downstairs.”
He took her hand, lifting it to his cheek. She smelled so good to him, felt so good, that it truly was hard for him to let her go, even for the night. Especially for the night. He had slept too long alone and he didn’t like it. “Just a few more minutes, Lucia. I’ll take you home myself.”
“You’ll do no such thing this time of the night. I’m too independent a woman to allow it.” She leaned down to touch her lips to his. “Though I must say it is nice to be so desired.”
“I don’t just desire you,” he said quietly. “I love you, Lucia.”
She smiled down on him, wishing she could believe him, but she knew better than to believe any man. “Perhaps I can come back tomorrow night. Sapphire and Angelique were invited to some party or another. They want me to go along, but I thought I might stay in a night. All these parties—they’re tiring for a woman of my age.”