When the Earl Met His Match (Wedded by Scandal 4)

Fourteen. But, of course, his Curious Lady did not count, for she was in the realms of something different, something…perplexing and compelling to his senses that had been inspired to come to life. He could tell that should he meet A Curious Lady, he would like her immensely.

His father pinned him with his direct and calculating glare. “And you will consider one of them?” the old man asked, looking out at the crashing waves, as if he could not bear another rejection from Hugh. His once robust father, who had seemed invincible to his mind, was now little more than a flesh-covered skeleton. What remained true for the old earl was the world-weary cynicism carved into his features.

He touched his father’s shoulder lightly, and when he had his attention, Hugh signed, “Yes.”

This commitment encouraged his father to face him fully, his brow arched in surprise. “Serious consideration?”

“Of course.”

His father’s remote countenance melted, and his features relaxed. A glint appeared in his dark green eyes, and his sigh was one of deep satisfaction. “I’d sent my man of affairs to verify their claims of which family they belong to, their situation and reputations. Each lady spoke the truth, and all are willing to stand beside you and be your countess.”

His hands and fingers spoke for him as he asked, “Have you told them my secret?”

His father contemplated the frothy waves below for a few moments before saying, “There is none to tell. Whoever you choose will be a countess, a part of the Winthrop family, a place where many in the ton hungered to be once. They will be wealthy beyond their imagination.”

His father had taken Hugh and his two younger siblings from England when he was only a boy of ten years, claiming he’d found the air too foul to raise his beloved children. Society had been cruel in their speculations, and even as a child Hugh had understood the sly murmurs of “not the earl’s son” or “bastard children foisted on the earl.” He did not resemble anyone in the Winthrop extended family or anyone in the paintings which hung in the gallery. Even then, he had heard the whispers from the servants of his beautiful mother and her lovers. Was his father the Italian count? Or the Egyptian Emissary who had been in England around the time she got with child? Who amongst her many lovers had hair as black as midnight and eyes as dark blue and unfathomable as the terrifying depths of the ocean?

He glanced back at the man who still retained traces of his ash blond hair and his vibrant green eyes, traits common to the Winthrops. A dark curiosity shifted through Hugh. “Father…do you truly believe me to be your son?” His hands and fingers signed the words before he had fully processed them.

Shock flared in his father’s eyes before his expression shuttered into a civil mask. Hugh’s heart throbbed, and he stared at the old earl, careful to only display the mildest of curiosity. His father had always shown him love and acceptance. Hugh returned the sentiments, and it affected him somewhere deep down that this man truly was not his sire. Worse…he had hurt the old earl with his query. Hugh wanted to apologize for opening old wounds, but he remained guarded.

“In all the years we’ve been together, you have never asked me this,” his father said gruffly.

“You thought me ignorant of the rumors.”

“Yes,” he replied with an evident touch of reluctance. “You were young when we left that vile place.”

A spurt of amusement darted through Hugh. “Did you also believe me to be ignorant of my features?”

His father gripped the head of his silver walking cane with gnarled fingers and with labored steps walked to the edge of the cliff. Hugh ensured he remained close but gave him enough space to breathe, to still know that he retained the power to stand on his own.

“Marianne.”

Hugh flinched at that low, aching whisper, grateful the wind had snatched it away and flung it down to the sea before it lingered in the air. A side glance at his father showed his weathered face creased with remembered pain and longing.

He touched his shoulder, and when his father glanced at him, he signed. “I did not mean to stir painful memories, Father.”

The only reply was a deep grunt that sounded like a choked chuckle. His father had married Lady Marianne Bartley, a beautiful social butterfly and the most sought-after diamond in the ton, when he was two and fifty and she was only nineteen. His father said the first time he had seen her had been like a lightning strike to his heart, and for the first time in his life, he knew love. Rumors of her many affairs had been vaunted even before Hugh’s birth, and when he arrived into the world and that world peered upon him, the wagging tongues had moved from murmurs and supposition to a roar—the countess had foisted a bastard onto her lord.

All society had known, all society had spoken, and all had judged. Then, when it had been revealed that he was a mute, it had been said the countess was being punished for her sinful ways. Hugh knew it all…his father perhaps thought he was ignorant because they had been living near the coast of Scotland for almost fifteen years, but the old earl had also taught him how to be calculating…how to plan steps ahead, and how to use his money and resources to unearth answers to any question that needed an answer.

“Father—”

“The only thing that matters is that you are my son.”

“And Caroline and Matthew?”

His father observed him under slightly knit brows. “You are aware of the full truth?”

He lifted his fingers. “We are not blind, Father. Did you not find it odd that only recently Caroline has learned my language? Before that, we barely spoke.”

His father’s eyes went dark with unnamed emotions, ones Hugh could not identify.

“You are all my children, and not a damn soul in society will say otherwise to your faces.” The earl’s voice sounded rough, choked, foreign to Hugh’s ears. “But I’ve done you all a disservice…hiding you out here, in the middle of nowhere. Caroline…she is charming and quite ravishing, and she is my daughter.”

One with the darkest of red hair and ash gray eyes. There had been speculation that her father had been a footman.

The old earl cleared his throat. “You must return home to take your rightful place. Caroline will need to find a good family to marry into and a suitable living found for William when he returns to England. I’ve sent a letter to New York, and he will surely be home in a few months. Our family has always been powerful, a voice for the people in the House of Lords, wealthier than most dukes! You have estates and tenants waiting for you. You have a sister and a brother who rely on you. You must live, my boy, live a life rich and full of potential. To take your place in Society, you must return with a wife who will help you fulfill your duties. A wife with a proper reputation and connections!”