Chloe felt suddenly light-headed. Could this man, this polite stranger, possibly be her father? She could feel no connection to him.
“Your papa,” he continued when she said nothing, “made it very clear to me when he married your mother that he would consider it a personal insult if I should ever try to offer any . . . assistance or support for your upbringing or if I should ever try to see you or her. I respected his wishes.”
He had known, then. But he had never tried to see her—because he had respected Papa’s wishes. Or perhaps because he did not care. He had not even known until last year that Mama was dead. Or, presumably, that she was still alive. Had he even known that she herself was a girl, not a boy?
“You have recently made a brilliant match,” he said, glancing briefly and for the first time at Ralph. “I am happy for you.”
Chloe’s chin came up. By what right was he happy for her?
“I did not come for your congratulations,” she said. “Or for your approval.”
“No,” he said with a faint smile. “I do not suppose you did.”
Dizziness threatened again. Without this man, she thought, she would not even have life. He was her father.
“I came,” she said, “because we move in the same social circles and will almost certainly find ourselves at many of the same functions. Your . . . daughter was at the theater two evenings ago when we were there too, though we did not come face to face. I imagine she was as aware of my presence as I was of hers. It would be just too absurd if we were all going out of our way to avoid one another for the rest of the Season and pretending that there was nothing between us when we failed. There is something. I am your daughter.”
She felt her cheeks grow warm as she put the relationship into words, and she did not believe she imagined the way he flinched slightly.
“Yes,” he said. “You are. You came to confront me in private, then, so that in public we may acknowledge each other with apparent ease and unconcern for what everyone knows to be the truth? It may very well prove to have been a wise course of action. You are far more courageous than I, Chloe. I would feel proud of you if I had a right to such a feeling.”
She raised her chin again.
He opened his mouth to continue but hesitated before doing so.
“Allow me to say this, if you will,” he said. “Your mother was not a woman of loose morals, Chloe. I had assured her of my enduring affections and of my firm intention to marry her. I even believed at the time that I would defy all the factors that dictated I do otherwise. Perhaps I would even have done so if I had known in time that she was . . . Well, if I had known that there would be you. Though perhaps not. None of us is ever as free to follow inclination as we would like to believe ourselves to be. Please be assured, though, that any and all blame for what happened between your mother and me was entirely mine. I would not have your newly acquired knowledge sully your memories of her.”
She clenched her teeth hard as she stared at him. How dare he tell her how to remember her mother. She turned her head to look at Ralph.
“I have said what I came to say,” she said. “We may leave now. I daresay I will be seeing you again . . . sir. And you may expect an invitation to attend the ball we will be hosting within the next few weeks.”
Ralph looked gravely back at her with eyes that were no longer empty, she half realized. He had made no attempt to say anything and still did not, but his very presence was full of reassurance.
When you feel lonely or afraid or unhappy, it is to me you must come, Chloe. My arms are here for you, and my strength too for whatever it is worth. You will never be a burden to me.
“My wife and daughter are upstairs in the morning room,” the Marquess of Hitching said. “I was with them when Worthingham’s card was brought up and my footman informed me that the duchess had come with him. I have not been the most popular of husbands or fathers since last year, I must confess. I doubt my wife and daughter would have returned this year if they had not felt confident that after your hasty retreat last year you would certainly not be back. Word of your marriage did not reach us until after we arrived here and my daughter saw you in Stanbrook’s box. She was severely shaken. You are quite correct, though, Chloe. If we are all to remain in town without any of us fleeing and stirring up a renewed storm of gossip, it will be as well if we can all come to a point at which we are able to meet with some . . . civility at least. Will you and Worthingham come up to the morning room with me?”
Chloe gazed at him in dismay. How could she possibly . . . ? But seeing and speaking with the marquess—her father—alone like this was dealing with only half the task she had set herself. She had hoped that perhaps he would undertake the other half and explain to his family.
She looked at Ralph again, but though he was frowning, he did not intervene. He was there to support her, his silence seemed to say, but not to act for her. And then, quite unexpectedly, he smiled.
You can do it.
Though how could she possibly know what that smile meant?
“Very well,” she said, looking back at the marquess.
He offered her his arm, but she did not take it or move closer to him. Instead she turned to Ralph, and he came toward her with firm steps and drew her arm through his. His free hand came up to cover hers and pat it a couple of times.
The marquess led the way up a broad staircase.
* * *
Ralph had mentally castigated himself all night. His suggestion had been an impulsive one. It might also have been a disastrous one. He had had no idea how Hitching would react to having his by-blow turn up at his door while the rest of his family was in residence there. And he had had no idea how Chloe would stand up to the ordeal. He had half expected, half hoped that she would change her mind when morning came. But she had not done so.