He couldn't fail to see the justice in her plea. "Very well," he agreed. "Be seated, if you will, monsieur."
When the doctor was settled, Dominic took a seat across from the sofa and leaned back wearily, feeling a painful throb in his wounded arm. He wanted nothing more than to hear the last of these revelations and be alone with his thoughts. He needed time to digest what he had learned . . . and decide what to do.
As the doctor began to speak, Dominic found his gaze straying to Brie. She sat with her head bowed, her hand tightly gripping Katherine's. Watching her, he couldn't help swearing at himself. God, what had he done? Stripped her pride away, destroyed her reputation, doubted her honor, forced her . . . like his father. Only with a strong effort was he able to control his thoughts so he could follow the doctor's words.
"What Madame Briggs says is true," the doctor was saying. "My father, Pierre Fontaine, was Lady Durham's physician during the last years of her life. He examined her body upon her death and confirmed that the cause was poisoning. He also discovered that she was with child."
The doctor glanced at Dominic, then at Katherine. "When Sir Charles returned home and learned of the death of his wife, he was very distressed. He did not know then about the child, for my father never told him. But later he discovered the letter, did he not, Madame Briggs?"
Katherine nodded mutely. No one interrupted the story to ask about her name, for it seemed a minor point.
"How much better it would have been had you burned the letter," Fontaine said with a sigh. "But you did not expect Sir Charles to search your rooms? No, naturally you would not. Yet that was how he found the letter and learned about the child. I believe that was when Sir Charles became crazed. He could think of nothing but revenge on the man who had dishonored his wife. So he turned Le Comte de Valdois over to the revolutionaries. A cunning sort of revenge, perhaps, but effective. He could not be certain of winning a duel."
"But I understood my mother had accused the comte," Brie interjected.
Fontaine's gaze swung to Brie, studying her. "Your mother was Mademoiselle Suzanne? You have very much the look of Madame Lisette. But where was I? Yes, M'amselle Suzanne. Bah, she had nothing to do with the comte's arrest. It was Sir Charles, believe me. In his anger he thought it would be . . . how you say? Using one stone to kill two birds. Mademoiselle Suzanne had returned home from school but a few days before, and she was beginning to fall under the comte's influence." The doctor gave Dominic an apologetic glance. "Pardon, m'sieur, but your father had great charm with the ladies."
Julian spoke then for the first time. "Doctor Fontaine, how do you know all this? Surely Sir Charles did not confess all this to you."
Henri Fontaine looked affronted. "Monsieur, I have not been the physician and confidant of Sir Charles for twenty years without gleaning the facts of the situation."
"Then you know that Sir Charles tried to murder Dominic?"
The doctor gave a start. "Non, but I did not! He spoke of it many times, but I did not know that he had tried."
"Julian, pray let the good doctor continue," Dominic said wearily.
"Alors, where was I? Ah, yes, Mademoiselle Suzanne. She discovered what Sir Charles was about and went to warn the comte. But she was too late. That night she left her father's house with Madam Briggs. You went to England?" he asked Katherine.
"No," she replied in a hoarse whisper. "We stayed in an inn for a time, and when the comte was taken to Paris, we followed. Suzanne thought she could bribe the authorities to free the comte. But she could do nothing. Afterward, we went to London, where she met and married your father, Brie."
"Katherine, my father . . . Papa was my father?"
Appalled that Brie should have such doubts, Katherine stared at her. "Of course he was. You were born more than a year after Suzanne and Sir William married."
"She knew about her mother, then? About why Lisette had killed herself?"
Katherine nodded. "Yes, she knew. When I learned Suzanne meant to go to Paris, I had to tell her, though I think she had guessed beforehand what had happened. Lisette left a sort of warning for her . . . inscribed on a pendant. But Suzanne would not listen to me. She went to Paris, despite knowing what sort of man the comte was. I went with her, for I had lost my place here and I was afraid for her safety. It was so dangerous then—for all of us—but particularly for a young girl alone."
When Katherine bowed her head, Fontaine cleared his throat and continued. "During the war between our countries, Sir Charles was forced into hiding for a period, he being English. But he returned, having obtained the proper authorization papers. Many years went by. I believed he had forgotten about the past." Fontaine paused, then addressed Dominic directly. "Monsieur, do you remember a boy by the name of Nicholas Dumonde?" The arrested look in Dominic's eyes confirmed the answer. "I see
you do. Did you know that young Dumonde was the son—pardon mesdames—the bastard of Sir Charles?"
Dominic groaned, putting a hand to his eyes. "This becomes more absurd with each passing moment," he murmured. "Had I tried, I could not have become more involved with Sir Charles' family."
Everyone but the doctor was puzzled by his remark. "And the mademoiselle?" Fontaine asked curiously.
"Another coincidence," Dominic replied curtly, directing an enigmatic glance at Brie.
Julian, who had been trying to follow this odd conversation, finally became exasperated. "Would you mind explaining what the devil you two are talking about, Dom?"
Dominic shot his friend a hard glance, but then he sighed. "I was in Paris some four years ago," he explained, "spying for the British, if you must know. I had . . . discovered some valuable documents which I had to deliver to my superior. Before I left France, a boy by the name of Nicholas Dumonde tried to relieve me of them. I turned him over to a colleague of mine and then left for England. Later I heard that my associate had become . . . overzealous and that Dumonde had died. I assume Sir Charles discovered my involvement?" Dominic said to the doctor. "But that doesn't explain why he waited this long to seek me out."
"After his son's death, Sir Charles suffered a stroke. He was partially paralyzed."
"But he recovered enough to travel to England?"
Fontaine nodded. "Last September. But I thought he did not find you. You were travelling in the West Indies, or some such place."