The next morning, Alex waited impatiently as his valet went about the routines of dressing him with what felt like studied slowness.

When the man sniffed at the haste with which his master tied his cravat, Alex threw him a quelling look. “I’m not visiting the royal court today, man.”

Finally, he emerged from his rooms and made a beeline for the suite his grandmother had moved to upon the departure of Alex’s mother.

He was more than usually aware of the fact as he gave a quick knock on the door of her sitting room before striding inside. As he’d expected, the dowager was at her writing desk, no doubt spinning tales of star-crossed lovers and youthful indiscretions for one of her cronies, to ensure that baby Lottie would one day be accepted among them. She was quite good at fictionalizing those occurrences in the Wrotham family that didn’t show them in the most flattering light.

“Wrotham,” she said, not looking up from where she sanded a letter. “I hope you’ve come to apologize for bringing that woman into this house. Not only has her appearance brought your poor cousin’s misfortune to light, but Lady Katherine and Miss Delaford are both quite uneasy about your suit now. After all the work I’ve done to ensure that they are worthy to be the Viscountess Wrotham.”

Still fighting, Alex thought wryly, as she looked up at him with a scowl.

Not wishing to give her the opportunity for escape, he took up a position before her desk. “I wonder that you have the audacity to speak of Miss Parks in that tone,” he said, not bothering to hide the censure in his voice. “You, yourself, have done far worse than to reunite a man with his daughter. Indeed, now that I know the entire story of why my mother left this house twenty years ago, I find it rather surprising that you would hold Miss Parks in contempt when you yourself have done far more than she ever did to shame this family.”

At his words, the dowager, her dark hair shot through with silver glinting in the weak sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, stiffened. “Your trip to France was just as I expected it would be,” she said with a moue of distaste. “I had hoped you would do your family the courtesy of avoiding the woman who shamed us all by fleeing with her lover. But clearly, you are without the sort of family feeling your dear departed father was blessed with.”

Clearly disliking the disparity in their heights while she was seated, she rose to her feet, with the assistance of the walking stick Alex suspected was more for show than utility. “That you also take the side of that scheming spinster should be a shock to me,” she continued, moving from the rosewood desk to a sitting area, where she lowered herself to a fringed sofa in the same shade of muted gold as the draperies.

When Alex only turned to look at her, she made a sound of irritation. “Oh, do sit down. You will give me a pain in my neck.”

Wordlessly, he moved to an upholstered armchair facing her own seat.

Before she could continue her scold, he said, “I know everything, Grandmama. What you did to Mama. And I don’t know what exactly you did to make Miss Parks flee five years ago, but I will find out. Mark my words.”

But if he’d expected shame or demurrals, he was to be disappointed.

She gave an elegant shrug, which if she only knew, was akin to the same gesture his mother used. “What I did,” she said calmly, “I did for this family. You may have forgotten the loyalty you owe to the Ponsonby line, but I have not. Your mother was a disgrace to us all. And I will remind you that it was she who chose to leave with that mincing Frenchman.”

“And you made life for her here as miserable as possible,” Alex responded coldly. “You usurped her authority with the servants. You berated her for not being the wife you’d have chosen.”

“She had no notion of how to care for a house of this size,” Lady Wrotham said, frowning. “I kept this house from falling into chaos while she gave in to histrionics at every turn. Your father was quite displeased with his choice of a bride, let me assure you.”

“Which he showed by laying his hands on her,” Alex said through clenched teeth. “If she wasn’t being beaten by him, she was being raked over the coals by you. Is it any wonder she left with the first person to show her a bit of kindness since she came to this wretched house?”

Unable to contain his anger, he leaned forward, so that his grandmother would be sure to see his eyes. “I blame you for the loss of my mother for all these years, Grandmama. Papa, too, but he’s not here to answer for his sins.”

But his words didn’t seem to faze her. “So you would blame an old woman for something long forgotten? Really, Wrotham, I thought you were a better man than that.”

“Even if,” he said, refusing to let her lack of remorse goad him, “your sins against my mother were years ago, your attacks on Miss Parks are only a few hours old.”

The dowager’s mouth turned down. “And what am I supposed to have done to her?” she asked pettishly.

Alex smiled coldly. “You cannot tell me that it wasn’t you who sent Cassandra to publicly humiliate her last night. For I won’t believe you. Only Miss Parks, I, William, and you knew the true circumstances of Lottie’s birth. It’s no accident that Cassandra had so many details.”

Again the shrug. “I confided in your cousin. Is it my fault that Cassandra lacks discretion? I blame it on that awful husband of hers. He is far too lenient with her.”

“You confided in her because she lacks discretion,” he retorted. “And I suppose I cannot blame you. After all, you thought you’d seen the last of Miss Parks when you sent her on her way five years ago.”

She seemed to calculate for a moment, before fixing her features into a mask of remorse. “You must know, Alexander, it was for your own good. You were smitten with the girl, but anyone with eyes could see that she was no fit candidate to be your viscountess. She was clumsy, and I vow, she had no notion of how to properly run a household. It was the same sort of calamity that had happened with your mother all over again. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Placing a hand on her chest, she assured him, “I was only trying to do, as ever, what was best for the family. For you. You must see that, Alexander.”

He didn’t miss the switch from addressing him by his title, to his Christian name. She hadn’t called him Alexander since he was a boy. But he was no longer a boy, and he was wise to the ways in which this woman who had played such an outsized role in his life had manipulated him.

“I loved her, Grandmama,” he said with an unexpected catch in his voice. Even as he fumed, he was reminded of just how much happiness she’d robbed him of. “I loved her, and you not only sent her away, you did so in a manner calculated to cause me the most pain.”

“But, my dear,” she said, looking genuinely puzzled, “that was for your own good. If there was any hint that she was leaving against her will, you’d have chased her to the ends of the earth. This way, I had hoped, at least, you’d forget her and do your duty with a far more suitable bride.”

He was both aghast and unsurprised by her inability to understand his ire. “I suppose it is unfair to blame you for your nature,” he said, almost to himself. He could see now that her view of the world and her own role in it was as much a part of her as the green eyes he’d inherited from her.

“My dear boy,” she said, her still dark brows drawing together, “I don’t understand any of this. I have only done what I thought best for the family. And I cannot tell you how unhappy your censure makes me. But I suppose it’s because you’re under the spell of that woman again. She was just as influential on you then as she obviously is now. You must see it for yourself.”

At her words, his understanding for her flaws evaporated. “She is soon to be my wife, Grandmama, and you will speak of her—and, indeed, behave in her company—with the respect due to the future Viscountess Wrotham.” At her gasp of shock, he continued, “Do I make myself clear?”

Blinking back tears—he was unable to tell if they were of remorse or an attempt to soften him—she nodded. “I see that you are unable to be moved on this. I have done all that I can to help you avoid disaster, Wrotham, but if you are determined to bring shame on us, then I suppose there is nothing I can do to stop you.”

Ignoring her attempt at shaming him, he said only, “This campaign against Miss Parks stops now. Am I understood?”

His grandmother shook her head, as if unable to believe he was issuing such an order. “A campaign? Really, Wrotham, you make it sound as if I am far more powerful than I—”

Not caring what she had to say, he interrupted her. “Am. I. Understood?”

Looking mulish, and not at all remorseful, she gave another slight shrug. “Yes, my lord.”

At her assent, however grudgingly he’d obtained it, he turned and left her alone. No doubt she’d find some way to punish him, but if nothing else, she was a woman of her word. She’d stop attempting to oust Merry. Though there was little guarantee that she’d stop parading Lady Katherine and Miss Delaford before him.

Which was why he had already set plans in place to make sure Merry spent today, at least, by his side. The sleigh ride he’d planned would do the trick, he thought with a grin.

Feeling much lighter than he had earlier, he set off in search of her.

* * *

Merry was relieved the next morning to find the household seemed to have collectively decided not to address last night’s revelations with her.

As she took her seat at the breakfast table beside Miss Delaford, the assembled guests were speaking about the planned outing for that afternoon.

“It’s been years since I’ve ridden in a sleigh,” said Lady Willowvale, who was, if Merry recalled correctly, the sister of the late Viscount Wrotham and Alex’s aunt. “I wonder that the household still has them, given how little use they’ve got in the years since my brother died.”

“Does his lordship not entertain often?” asked Lady Katherine, who was seated beside Lady Willowvale and across from Merry. “I suppose that’s because he enjoys his bachelor life.” The blonde gave a secretive smile, as if she would soon be the one to end that lifestyle.

“Oh, he’s never been much of one for entertaining at the hall,” Lady Willowvale continued, eating a healthy forkful of eggs. When she’d finished chewing she went on. “If you must know the truth, I believe the dowager has discouraged him from making free with the house. Though he is the viscount, she has ruled the roost for so long I daresay it’s easier for him to let her have her way than to resist.” She gave a speaking look to the young lady, as if ensuring she’d understood the implication. “Anyone who marries my nephew will have a difficult time ousting Mama from what she sees as her domain. Just a warning to you.” She included Miss Delaford in her gaze now.

Merry, she ignored.

Before either lady could respond, William entered the breakfast room, looking somewhat the worse for wear. Merry hoped it was simply insomnia or stress that made him look so tired and not a return to the spirits that had laid him low in the past.

“William,” his aunt said to him once he’d selected kippers and eggs from the sideboard, “you must take me up to see this infant of yours after breakfast. I vow, I spent little time with my own children when they were small, but it does one good to see a cooing baby from time to time. And from your explanation last night, the poor little mite is in need of her family.”

The complete lack of expression on Will’s face for a split second told Merry that he was not yet sanguine about his own role in Lottie’s situation. Even so, he gave his aunt a nod and said, “Of course, Aunt. I had planned to visit the nursery after breakfast as well, so you may join me.”

“Oh, I’d like to come,” Miss Delaford said breathlessly, her sudden excitement all but rattling Merry’s teacup. At Will’s look of questioning, she continued, with a bit more control, “That is, I should like to see the little child. I feel sure she’s a sweet thing. One does appreciate an infant at Christmastime.”

Looking somewhat less severe, Will nodded. “Certainly, Miss Delaford.” He gave a glance at those remaining at the table. “Would anyone else like to meet my daughter?” He blinked as he said the words, as if suddenly realizing he’d said the words “my daughter.”

He was trying, Merry thought to herself. At least he was trying. She’d had her reservations about entrusting Lottie to the man who broke Charlotte’s heart, but thus far, William Ponsonby had shown himself to be just as reformed as he’d declared himself to be.

“Miss Parks?” he asked, looking solemn and a bit sheepish. “Will you join us?”

But Merry thought it was time for her to allow him to parent his child without her interference. At least when he was introducing her to his family and houseguests.

“Thank you, Mr. Ponsonby,” she said with genuine warmth. “I have some letters I need to write. But thank you for asking.”

And not long after, William, accompanied by Lady Willowvale and Miss Delaford, left the table and the breakfast room.

Across from her, Merry noted that Lady Katherine looked a bit sad.

“Are you feeling unwell, Lady Katherine?” she asked, despite the slight jealousy she felt toward the lady the dowager had chosen to offer up to Alex for a potential bride. The blonde was everything Merry was not. Tall and slender, where Merry was of medium height and slightly plump. And titled thanks to her father’s earldom, whereas Merry was a plain miss whose father was a mere baronet with neither wealth nor social status.

Lady Katherine was, indeed, the perfect wife for Alex, and Merry couldn’t help but be reminded of it every time she laid eyes on her. For that matter, so was Miss Delaford. And yet, Alex had assured her it was she that he wished to marry. It was difficult to believe when faced with the perfection of his other choices.

At her question, Lady Katherine looked up guiltily, as if she hadn’t thought she’d be seen. “No, Miss Parks, nothing like that.” She managed to paste on a smile as she made the denial. “Just a bit homesick, that’s all. My family’s holiday celebrations are quite elaborate. And this year, because we’ve come here, I’m just missing our own family traditions.”

That was reason enough for feeling glum, Merry thought with a pang of sympathy. Though she and her father had never been particularly fulsome in their celebrations, they did have a few traditions that she would miss this year. Like the Christmas pudding that she and the cook had been working on for months. She’d always search out at least one trinket to bake into it that would make her father laugh. Last year it had been a tiny magnifying glass like the one he used to examine small print. And this year she’d found a small replica of one of the Elgin Marbles. But of course, she’d not be there for him to find it.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Lady Katherine,” she said with sympathy. “But at least your parents are here with you.” The Earl and Countess of Needham had, of course, accompanied their daughter to Wrotham Keep, given that the entire reason for their invitation had been to show her as a prospective bride for its master. “Perhaps Lord Wrotham can see to it that the servants help you with a few of your traditions.”

At that, the other lady lifted her head with surprise. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. After a moment’s hesitation, she finally said, “I must say that I’m surprised to hear you so easy with the notion of me going to Lord Wrotham. I had thought given your previous attachment . . .”

Merry sighed. She supposed the fact of her previous betrothal to Alex was perhaps not on the tip of everyone’s tongue, but it could hardly have gone unnoticed. Especially by Lady Katherine. And Miss Delaford, for that matter.

Deciding to speak the truth, rather than hiding behind polite lies, Merry said, “I suppose it’s only fair to tell you that, yes, Lord Wrotham and I are . . .” She searched for the proper word, but found none. “We are close,” she settled on. “And you must know that his grandmother invited you here without consulting him.”

Rather than recoiling in horror, Lady Katherine smiled. “I guessed as much when he arrived with you.” At Merry’s frown, she continued, “You don’t think anyone believed your story about a broken-down carriage do you? It was obvious to anyone that you’d traveled together. Though I must admit, I did suspect the child of being yours.” At the mention of Lottie, her eyes turned troubled. “But that, at least, was an incorrect assumption on my part.”

She looked far more upset by the news than Merry thought was warranted. Why should Lady Katherine be upset to learn that Lottie was not the love child of Alex and Merry? One would think she’d be pleased, given her family’s aspirations for her.

Then, the reason dawned on Merry.

“Oh, my dear,” she said, her heart aching for the other lady. “You’re in love with Mr. Ponsonby.”

At the words, Lady Katherine smiled ruefully. “I suppose it’s not a far leap to make. I should have been devastated at the notion Lord Wrotham had brought his illegitimate child to the Keep, but instead, you find me weepy because the child belongs to his cousin.” She shook her head. “I’m a fool, I know it. Especially now that it appears the last thing Mr. Ponsonby needs is a wife who knows nothing about infants.”

Merry’s mind was teeming with questions, but she knew she couldn’t pepper the lady with them like a Fleet Street newspaper writer. Instead, she said, “Does he know how you feel?”

Lady Katherine shook her head. “We met in the spring in town. And many times over the course of the season. But though I hoped, he never called, or showed any particular interest. But there was something we shared. I know it seems foolish of me. But I’m sure of it. We had a connection. And before you arrived with Lord Wrotham, I felt it again—so much so that the dowager made it a point to ensure we weren’t seated beside one another at dinner again after the first night.”

In the spring, William would likely have just been returned from his time away while he fought to overcome his reliance on drink. And given his behavior with Charlotte, she doubted he’d have been eager to become entangled with another young lady.

“Does this mean you don’t wish to marry Lord Wrotham?” she asked, making sure she understood the other lady before she offered her assistance. She knew well enough that there were some ladies who would choose the titled cousin no matter how much emotion they felt for the untitled one.

“Miss Parks,” said Lady Katherine with a smile, “I have never wished to marry Lord Wrotham. The only reason we are here is because my mother is friendly with Lady Willowvale. That lady suggested to her mother that I would make a suitable bride for her Lord Wrotham, and before I knew it, the dowager had contacted my parents and we were in the carriage on our way to Kent.”

She gave a rueful shake of her head as she continued. “And I cannot tell a lie. I was not displeased to come here because I hoped that Mr. Ponsonby would be here for the holiday.” Then she sobered. “But your arrival with his daughter has made it impossible for me to gain his attention now.”

Merry had a suspicion that little Lottie had made William leery of pursuing anything with Lady Katherine. But she found herself liking the other girl. And though she’d come here wanting to shame William, she found herself touched by the way he’d publicly acknowledged Lottie last night. He might easily have refused to speak, or simply left the room. But he’d stayed and taken responsibility.

Did she wish he’d done so while Charlotte was still alive to see it? Absolutely. But she wasn’t one to linger over things that couldn’t be changed. And when it came down to it, she wanted Lottie to have a mother. If she couldn’t have Charlotte, a young lady with genuine affection for William might be the next best thing.

If, that is, she would accept Lottie as easily as William had.

“How do you feel about the child?” she asked Lady Katherine. “I will admit that I’d like to help you, but I cannot assist someone to become a permanent part of Lottie’s life who will hold her in contempt for something she has no control over. Or worse, who blames her for the inevitable talk that will follow her, no matter how much her family attempts to quell rumors.”

Lady Katherine nodded. “I can see now why Lord Wrotham is so smitten with you.”

Merry blushed. Was he smitten with her? She knew he was drawn to her. His request to court her told her that much. But she could hardly say that meant he was head over ears. They’d been apart for a long time. And she still wasn’t quite sure that Alex had fully forgiven her for abandoning him five years ago. It would take explaining what exactly had happened to remove that last barrier between them, but so far she’d managed not to let their conversations get there.

Before she could say yes to his proposal—for it was inevitable given his declaration, she would tell him the truth. She only hoped he would not choose his family over her.

Now, however, she needed to pay attention to the matter at hand. “I hope you’re right, but I do need to know your feelings for Lottie. Her mother was a dear friend, and I promised her that I’d bring her to her father. He behaved dishonorably with my friend. You know that because he announced it to us last evening. But he did marry Lottie’s mother. The child is as legitimate as you or I. And I cannot commit myself to helping you if you will hold the unusual circumstances of her birth over her. Or treat her any differently than you would any other children you might have. Can you do that, Lady Katherine?”

“I know he hasn’t been a saint, Miss Parks,” said the other woman, her gaze steady, “but I also know that he is not the same person he was when he behaved so badly to your friend. And, of course, I wouldn’t blame an infant for something so completely out of her control. You have no way of knowing whether I am sincere or not, I suppose, but I assure you, I am willing to accept any child of Mr. Ponsonby’s. Especially one who has lost her mother in such tragic circumstances.”

It was what Merry had hoped to hear, and yet, she felt a pang of pain for Charlotte’s sake. I hope I’m doing the right thing by you, dear friend, she said silently.

Aloud, she said, “Let me see what I can do, Lady Katherine. I cannot promise anything, for I’ve only just met Mr. Ponsonby, but I do believe if he feels about you the way you say he does, then it will take only a bit of persuasion to convince him that he is allowed some happiness in this life. No matter what he might have done in the past.”

She would, of course, talk to Alex about it first. He knew his cousin better than anyone, after all, and would know exactly how to approach him.