Shaking her head in exasperation, Lady March sighed. "Sometimes I believe he is a changeling. He is so different from his brother Geoffrey…" She gave a start and glanced at Nicholas. "Now it is my turn to apologize, Mr. Deverill. I don't mean to be melancholy, but it is hard for a mother to lose a son. Or for a woman to lose her betrothed," she added, including Aurora in her rueful look.
Nick gave a sympathetic nod, but he wasn't as sanguine as he appeared. He wasn't at all happy with this visit, for it stirred up too many memories of his chief rival in Aurora's mind and heart. She had elevated the late Lord March onto a pedestal, and it would be difficult to knock him off.
He couldn't fight such a paragon, Nicholas knew. He could only try to make her forget – which he would do his damnedest to make happen if he could ever get her away from here.
Another event occurred, however, to raise more painful memories for Aurora and interfere with the continuation of their journey. They were about to take their leave when Lady March asked Aurora if she had heard from her father lately.
"No," she replied. "I'm afraid we have not been on the best of terms since my marriage."
"I understand he isn't faring too well," Lady March admitted. "Since you left, he has found it difficult to retain any servants. But I suppose it serves him right since he drove them all away with his vile temper."
Nicholas saw the fleeting emotions that ran across Aurora's beautiful face; clearly she was disturbed by what she had heard. She was silent, however, until Nicholas started to hand her into the carriage. Then she touched his arm.
"Before we leave," she said in a low voice, "I would like to call on my father."
Nick gave her a narrow look. "What do you expect to accomplish? You can't really wish to see him after the way he treated you."
"I don't wish to see him. But he is still my father."
"And you have an overdeveloped sense of duty," Nicholas said disapprovingly.
Aurora gave him a rueful smile. "I expect so."
"You don't owe him anything, Aurora. He's forfeited any right to your allegiance."
"Perhaps he has. But my conscience would always plague me if I left without making certain he is all right. You don't have to come with me if you don't wish to."
"Oh, no," Nick said with a dangerous smile of his own. "I would very much like the chance to meet the illustrious duke."
A short while later they arrived at the Eversley estate. The magnificent park had been badly neglected since she had last been there, Aurora saw with dismay. The gravel drive was rutted and unswept, while the unkempt lawns and ragged shrubbery looked a bit wild.
Her stomach was churning as she climbed the front steps with Nicholas, yet facing her father was something she had to do. She knew there was little chance for a reconciliation between them, nor did she really want one. But even though he had disowned her, he was her father, her flesh and blood. Whether he deserved compassion or not, she couldn't bring herself to turn her back on him. Not without making one last effort. She would never be able to close this chapter of her life, otherwise. She was very glad, however, to have Nicholas at her side.
When he applied the brass knocker, the thud sounded hollow, as if no one was home. Long minutes passed before the door was opened by a footman whose livery was soiled and disheveled. Not recognizing him, Aurora asked to see the duke.
"The duke ain't ‘ome," was the sullen response.
"He is not at home, or he is not receiving visitors?"
" ‘e ain't receiving."
"I should like to see him, nonetheless."
"And ‘oo might you 'appen to be?"
Aurora lifted her chin regally, staring the man down. "I might ‘happen' to be the duke's daughter, and I wish to speak to my father. You will please tell him I am here."
He glanced at Nicholas, as if sizing him up. Apparently deciding the visitor was both taller and stronger, the footman scowled and shuffled off.
Aurora glanced around her sadly. "When my mother was alive, this house was beautiful," she murmured.
She felt Nicholas's fingers brush her nape, a subtle display of sympathy and support. He didn't speak, but she felt him lending her strength, and she was grateful.
The servant finally returned. As sullen as ever, he gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. "‘is grace is in 'is study."
"I know the way," Aurora said coolly, moving past him.
Her footsteps slowed, however, when she neared the study door. Perhaps she was foolish to have come here. She pressed a hand to her stomach, reluctant to face the pain she knew she was about to bring on herself.