“Lindberg and Christian are outstanding members of my—”
“Enough!” Whit slammed his fist on the table. “That is bloody well enough!”
His mother drew herself up. “Whittaker Vincent, I will not tolerate that sort of language in my house.”
“Lady Thurston, it is my house, and at the moment, I don’t give two damns for your tolerance. Sit down.”
“Well,” she huffed. She straightened her shoulders, indignant, but looked about her, found a chair to her liking, and sat on the edge primly. “Well.”
William followed suit, taking a seat next to her, though his posture was of a man resigned, not offended.
Whit stifled the urge to pace. “I want answers. William, you start.”
“Yes, yes of course.” William reached up to tug at his cravat, but finding it already undone, yanked it off instead. “Your mother and I felt…No, no, I should start from the beginning, shouldn’t I?” He heaved a great sigh. “Seventeen years ago, I made a deathbed vow to the late Duke of Rockeforte. I was tricked into it, to be honest, but nevertheless—”
“What vow?” Whit cut in.
William shifted in his seat and the slightest trace of a blush rose to his cheeks. “I promised…I promised to see that his children…found love.”
Whit scowled at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” William responded with a scowl of his own. “As he was—though I suspect he’s laughing over it even now—the blighter.”
“His children…” Whit repeated, and remembered the strange mission he and Alex had been assigned nearly two years ago. Alex had been given the task of wooing Sophie in the hopes of catching her and her cousin in the act of spying for the French. They’d been only marginally successful in that regard, and it’d been a damn odd way to go about the business.
“Were you responsible for Sophie and Alex meeting?” he asked.
“Yes, and I should like to point out that although this particular mission hasn’t gone quite as planned, at least you haven’t found it necessary to fight off a pack of would-be assassins.” William perked up a bit. “I believe I might be improving.”
Whit ignored his mother’s derisive snort. “Improving in what, exactly? What has any of this to do with Mirabelle, or me? Neither of us are related to Rockeforte by blood.”
“No,” William agreed. “But you were his children all the same.”
“He loved you,” Lady Thurston said quietly. “Though you were too small to remember well, he loved each of you as if you were his own. In some ways, he was more of a father to you than your own.”
Because he did remember, Whit only nodded and turned to William. “You thought to bring Mirabelle and me together.”
“That was my idea,” Lady Thurston admitted. “I had hoped…no, I knew, from the very start, that the two of you were meant to be. It was fate.”
Whit allowed that statement to sink in before answering. “Mother, I love you, but that is the single most preposterous thing I have ever heard.”
“Not at all,” William argued. “I saw it as well, clear as day. Well, once she pointed it out to me. I’d never seen a girl more suited to you.”
Whit happened to share the opinion, but he couldn’t stop from asking William, “Why?”
“Because, my boy, she bothered you.”
“She bothered…that’s your qualification?”
William smiled in fond memory. “Should have seen your face the first time she came to Haldon. I’ve never seen a boy of thirteen look so utterly confounded, nor so angry about it.”
“Mirabelle is the only person you have ever lost your head over, Whit,” his mother said gently.
“Yes, and look what it’s cost her.” Angry with himself, with them, with the whole ugly affair, he gave in to the need to move. He strode to the firelace to glower at the flames.
Lady Thurston watched him, a line of concern forming across her brow. “Mirabelle’s injuries are not of your doing. The fault lies with her uncle and Mr. Hartsinger, first. William and me, second.”
“That’s neither here nor there,” Whit murmured with a shake of his head before looking to his mother. “You knew of the counterfeiting operation?”
She winced. “I did, though I hadn’t thought it particularly dangerous for Mirabelle. She was protected, and she’d been attending her uncle’s parties for years. I thought it an excellent opportunity for you to see that the time she spent there was unpleasant.”
“You knew?”