Huntley blinked, his eyes moist, at which point Brogan sprang off his seat and strode to the mantel. His eyes landed on an oil painting hanging above. Likely an ancestral portrait, for its somber-faced gentleman subject bore a strong resemblance to Nathaniel Huntley.
Impatient for answers of his own, yet knowing he had more to confess, Brogan whirled about to face the man. “When I realized I would need to spend time with Lorena if I were to get anywhere near my son, I had no idea I would fall in love with her or that her love would so change my heart. It is my great desire to wed your daughter, sir. I understand how disturbing this news must be for you, but believe me when I say things have worked themselves out to the benefit of all. Lorena, Drew . . . that is, Ben, and I have been happy together on the Yankee Heart. I am prepared to do all in my power to give them the bright future they deserve. If that necessitates first proving my character to you, then so be it. I am determined. Lorena has forgiven me, and now I beg your forgiveness, as well. If not for you, my son would have perished alongside Abigail. I don’t know how it came to be that he was placed in your home, but clearly he has thrived and been well loved here. For that, I shall remain forever in your debt. But as I’ve explained to Lorena, all the charity in the world cannot replace the bond of blood. I shall remain a part of my son’s life, and he shall know a father’s love. However, it is my hope you should give us your blessing, sir, to be a family.”
As Brogan waited impatiently for an answer, he noticed Huntley’s hand begin to tremble. What vile thing had Abigail done that, even dead, she could cause a man of Huntley’s sophistication to be distraught over a discussion of her?
Huntley leveled his gaze with Brogan’s and, leaning back, folded his hands over his rounded belly. “I shall not withhold my forgiveness, Captain, nor my blessing. Your character is proven in faithfulness and deed. Further, it would seem I owe you an apology, for I never doubted my brother when he told me you were dead. Indeed, I never gave you a second thought. You were a complete unknown. The child was the only innocent. Now here you have resurfaced, alive and hale, a hero to your country and a hero within my own home. You are worthy of my daughter’s hand.”
At those words Brogan felt more happiness than his heart could contain. He thought of Lorena and Ben, of their beautiful faces and the way they smiled at him with adoration and trust. His burden lifted. Joy exploded inside him, the future dawning brighter than he could ever have imagined. “Thank you, Mr. Huntley, sir.”
He could scarcely believe his good fortune. There remained just one final matter to put his mind at rest. “And now I feel I deserve some answers of my own. Lorena directed me to you as the one who should give them. What was your relationship to my wife that you should have aided her in her scheme?”
Huntley rose to address him. “Lorena was wise in sending you to me. You’ve traveled a long, difficult road searching for the truth, and I am the only person alive who can give it to you.”
Turning, Nathaniel Huntley crossed the room to a Chippendale secretary and idly skimmed his fingertips over its opened cherrywood desktop. As he glanced up, the sadness in his eyes unnerved Brogan.
“My brother Stephen and I had little in common as far as siblings go,” Huntley said. “Stephen followed his own path and at a young age married into the Bainbridge family of Boston. You’ve heard the name, I take it?”
“Aye.” Every Bostonian had, but Brogan failed to see what Stephen Huntley’s marriage had to do with either himself or his son. Before he could voice his impatience, however, Huntley raised a hand to silence him.
“Indulge me, Captain. Please. For without the whole story, you might not believe me.”
Brogan nodded. The whole story. At last.
“The Bainbridges are one of Boston’s oldest and most respected families, merchants by trade, and Stephen’s marriage to Ellen Bainbridge assured him the highest possible social standing and great prosperity. The couple enjoyed prominence in Boston society and produced five beautiful children. Stephen had wealth, power, and family, but like many men of affluence, all was not enough. He kept a mistress.”
Brogan made the connection and found he was hardly surprised. “Abigail?”
Nathaniel Huntley’s forlorn expression confirmed it. “With time, Stephen’s marriage began to suffer. He did not hide his infidelity as well as he believed. His good name was threatened, not to mention what effect a scandal would have on his wife and children. To make matters worse, this mistress, a widow who for years believed she was barren, conceived.”
A cold tremor rocked Brogan to his very bones. What was Huntley implying? He searched the shipbuilder’s eyes, eyes so gravely serious they spoke louder than words.