When a knock sounded in the dead of night, Ettie Trewlove knew what it meant: someone was leaving a babe at her door.

But a knock during the day was another matter entirely. It wasn’t one of her children. They always barged in, making themselves at home, because this was their home, even if they no longer lived here.

So she was a bit curious regarding her caller. Still, when she opened the door, she was taken by surprise at the sight of the man standing there. He hadn’t aged particularly well, but then guilt tended to eat at a person, and she liked to believe that everyone who left their troubles with her suffered a little bit for it when they walked away. “Your Grace.”

“Did you know from the beginning who I was?” he asked.

“Not until I saw the crest on the blanket.”

He nodded. “You did an excellent job raising my son.”

She gave him a pointed look. “He weren’t yours. He became mine the second you placed him in my arms.”

“You’re right. Still I appreciate the life you gave him.”

“He ain’t done too bad for himself.”

He grinned, and in it she saw Mick’s smile. “No, he hasn’t.”

“So why are you here?”

“I need your help again.”

He returned to her the necklace, comb and parasol. In the package, he also included the cameo. It brought him a measure of comfort that she didn’t return it, that perhaps she kept it as a reminder of him and along with it, a few fond memories.

For three days in a row he received an invitation to dinner. The first came from the duke himself, the second from his duchess, the third from Aslyn. He didn’t bother to respond. His absence would tell the tale. He was firm in his resolve that no good would come from his presence in their lives.

Instead, he buried himself in his work, searching for parcels of land to be had on the cheap, meetings with investors, negotiating contracts, looking over applications from those who wanted to lease his buildings. When he wasn’t out and about, he was in his office, reading through paperwork that would drive his brothers mad, but he’d always enjoyed it: the precise words, the turning of a phrase that could alter a meaning. The smallest of details, ignored, could lead a man to ruin. Acknowledged could lead a man to fortune.

The knock on his door scattered his concentration. “What is it?”

Tittlefitz peered into the office. “Jones, from the front desk, sent word up that a duke and duchess have taken a room. A duke and duchess! He let out the grand suite to them. Can you imagine the clientele we’ll see if word gets around the nobility that we’re a right proper place to stay?”

The muscles of his stomach clenched. “Who are they?”

Tittlefitz seemed surprised by the question. “Well, he didn’t say.”

“Find out.” Even though he was willing to wager his entire fortune that he already knew.

His secretary looked considerably paler, on the verge of being ill, when he reappeared. “Hedley. The gent who visited you several days ago with his son. Why would he be here?”

Because he wouldn’t go to them. Why would they not leave him in peace? Why did they not understand the havoc his presence would cause? “Who the devil knows? Just see to it that they don’t disturb me here.”

“Yes, sir.”

They didn’t disturb him, but sometimes when he glanced out one of his windows, he’d see the duke strolling along the street, observing the construction taking place. He’d stop and speak with some of the workers, delaying them from finishing their jobs. The third afternoon, at precisely four o’clock, he received a missive.

The duchess and I would welcome the pleasure of your company as we enjoy our tea in the hotel gardens.

—­Aslyn

So she was here as well, was she? Damn her. As with all the invitations to dinner, he ignored it. As well as the one that arrived the following afternoon. The one after that however—­

Your mother, the duchess and I would welcome the pleasure of your company as we enjoy our tea in the hotel gardens.

—­Aslyn

He came out from behind his desk so fast he very nearly wrenched his back. He dashed out of his office.

“Is something amiss, sir?” Tittlefitz asked.

But Mick didn’t stop. He carried on through, down the stairs, his heart pounding. He hit the lobby. Ignoring the few patrons standing about, he raced to the back doors that led into the gardens.

Several small white-­cloth-­covered round tables were set up, but only one was occupied. He slowed his step but lengthened his stride. The duchess was the first to smile at him.

“I’m so glad you could join us. Your mother was telling us about a fledgling bird you tried to save when you were a lad. The tragic outcome. I’m sorry it didn’t go better.”

“I remember your tears,” his mum said.

“I didn’t cry.” She was wearing a plain navy blue dress, a recent purchase. No frays, no faded spots. Her hat hosted an assortment of colorful flowers, but then she’d always sought out colors in the drabness that was her life. He shifted his attention to Aslyn, as beautiful as ever, in pink. Her lips twisted into the familiar uneven smile did not make her look at all innocent in this, and he wondered what part she might have played. A large part no doubt. She was probably responsible for locating and getting word to his mum. Or maybe the duke had remembered where he’d delivered him that long ago night. Damnation, he should have made his mum move into better lodgings.

“I’m given to understand you prefer whiskey to tea,” the duchess said, and only then did he notice the etched glass holding two fingers of amber liquid set in front of the empty chair that rested between his mum and Aslyn. Taking that seat would leave him facing the duchess.

“Do sit down, Mick,” his mum said, her tone one of reprimand that he knew from experience would be quickly followed by a smack if he didn’t obey.

“I see nothing to be gained by this.” He gave his mum a hard stare. “You don’t know what you risk.” If they were to report her as being a baby farmer, the repercussions could see her imprisoned.

“They mean me no harm.” She reached out for him. “It’s like Pandora’s box. You can’t shove back inside everything that flew out. Besides, I rather like your mother.”

“You’re my mother.”

“How fortunate you are to have two when there are some who have none.”

He took her hand, squeezed it. He would protect her unto death. Releasing his hold, he dragged out the chair and dropped into it. He glared at Aslyn. “What is the game being played here?”

“No game. The duchess was merely curious about your upbringing, your life.”

“It was nothing at all like Kipwick’s,” he said tersely. “You don’t want to know about it.”

“It was hard and filthy—­at least on the streets. I suspect your home was clean. It’s obvious Mrs. Trewlove loves you dearly. I can’t claim to hold that deep affection for you. I did not cradle you to my breast. I did not sing you lullabies. I wept when you were born, but the tears had nothing at all to do with joy.”

“You don’t have to tell me this.”

“You have no idea what it cost me to come here. I shook the entire way. Do you know that except for when we travel to and from the ducal estate, I never venture far from Mayfair? I almost never leave Hedley Hall, to be honest. I have spent most of my life fearing my own shadow. But wanting to see what you have accomplished forced me out of my little hidey-­hole.”

He hardly knew what to say. He knew what Aslyn had told him about the duchess, but he assumed it was her frailty that kept her indoors.

“I am not your mother. I know this, but I look around and I see what you have built, what you are building, and I am impressed. I can take no credit for it. I did not influence you. But now that I know the truth of you, how can I not want to know everything?”

Her eyes delved into his, and he was very much aware of his mum holding her breath. She was the one who had raised him, who demonstrated kindness even though he didn’t always embrace the lessons—­especially where those of his past were concerned. And then there was Aslyn. For her, he wanted to be better than he was. He took a good healthy swallow of the whiskey.

“I have three brothers and two sisters.”

“Four brothers,” the duchess said.

He flashed a grin. “I doubt Kipwick is keen on acknowledging me as such.”

“He’s adjusting,” Aslyn said.

He turned his attention to her. “Is he?”

“It’s been a shock to him obviously, to all of us. I think he’s struggling as much as you are with figuring out his place in the world now.”

“I’m not struggling.”

“You’re denying the truth of your birth.”

“No. I accept it, but it does not alter my present or my future.” He looked at the duchess. “I can’t be part of your life without causing speculation, gossip and quite possibly scandal.”

“I have a very simple solution for how you can be in their lives without anyone ever being the wiser,” Aslyn said quietly.

He gave her a mocking smile. “Have you?”

“Yes. When you first arrived at Hedley Hall, you told the duchess you were the man who would wed me if I would have you. Well—­” She gave him an impish grin. “I will have you.”

Staring at her, he was vaguely aware of the duchess and his mum quietly leaving the table, like two old friends who communicated without words. He should have finished off his whiskey. Perhaps her words wouldn’t have come as quite a shock to him then.

“Aslyn—­”

“You’re not going to cause an upheaval in their world by allowing them to declare you as their son. And I love you for it.”

“Aslyn—­”

“You’re not turning your back on your adoptive family, and I love you for it.”

“Aslyn—­”

“You dashed out here to protect your mum . . . and I think a good deal of your decisions are because of her, because you don’t want her to feel as though you don’t appreciate all she did for you. You are correct. There is no easy way to bring you back into their lives, to resurrect you without weaving some tale that would be believable without causing harm. But to deny them the opportunity to get to know you—­there’s a certain sadness in that. You’ll have children, their grandchildren. Would you deny the duke and duchess getting to know them? Would you deny your children time with their true grandparents? If you marry me, no one will find it odd that you and your family are embraced by my guardians, by the couple who have raised me since I was seven. It’s the perfect solution.”

“Marriage to me will not make you a duchess.”

Her brow furrowed. “Do you think I care so much for a title?”

He shook his head. “No. I know you don’t care at all. But I can’t help but believe this will cause hardship for them, for you.”

“It will be harder if you are not in our lives. I love you, Mick. You told me to find a man deserving of me, and I have. If you’ve changed your mind and don’t want to marry me, at least spend time with them. Let them know the remarkable man they brought into the world.”

He hardly felt remarkable, but he’d missed her, and he knew that with her by his side, he could be better than he was. Shoving back his chair, he stood, then dropped to one knee and took her hand. “I want a life with you, Aslyn. A dozen children and slipping off to the park for a bit of peace.”

She smiled sweetly, crookedly. “A happily-­ever-­after.”

“A happily-­ever-­after,” he promised her before cradling her face and kissing her.