His Wicked Embrace novel Chapter 28

Emily St. Laurent, the Duchess of Essex, sat in the drawing room of Lord Denbruck's townhouse in Mayfair, sipping tea. Beside her, Horatia and Audrey were also holding teacups. Lord Denbruck, an older man who still bore the vestiges of his handsome features, had been delighting the ladies with tales of his youth.

"My lord," Emily said at an appropriate lull in the conversation. "The portrait behind you-may I ask who that is?" She nodded politely at a beautiful woman with blonde hair painted in a green gown, leaning against a pillar covered with English ivy. The woman was Zehra's mother, Joan, she was sure of it. The resemblance in the eyes was uncanny. Even though Zehra was dark-haired and olive-skinned, there was no mistaking those eyes.

"That's my daughter, Joan." Lord Denbruck gave a world-weary sigh. "I have two other children, Elizabeth and Archibald. Joan was my eldest." He chuckled, though it held more sorrow than humor. "I swore never to have favorites, but damned if she wasn't mine."

"What happened to her?" Audrey asked.

Denbruck looked away. "She died. Only a few weeks ago. She lived in Persia, where she had married a local shah, Rafay Darzi, whom she met while I was there negotiating trade agreements."

"Oh?" Emily queried.

"That was more than twenty years ago. I was quite mad at her at the time. I thought she ought to marry a young Englishman and..." His tone softened. "I fear I ruined everything with Joan. She married anyway, and our family fell apart, as they tend to do when everyone is too stubborn to mend things. She wouldn't come home to visit, and I was too proud to ask her to."

A tear rolled down his cheek, and Emily feared he would not continue, but he did. "I loved Joan. I even accepted the fellow she married, but I just couldn't bring myself to beg her to return to England to see me. I hired the son of a friend who was remaining in the area to keep an eye on her. Over the years, he sent me reports, told me how my daughter, son-in-law and my grandchild were doing."

"Grandchild?" Horatia asked. She and Emily shared victorious looks.

"Yes, my granddaughter, Zehra. I never had the chance to see her, but I heard she was a lovely woman. I learned only recently that Joan had planned to send Zehra to England for a time and sought my blessing. Alas, the poor girl was never to have the chance."

Emily leaned forward. "Was? Don't tell me..."

"Yes. She died with her parents. Warring tribes or some such were to blame. That part of the world is politically turbulent. I only received word a few days ago that they were gone." He wiped away another tear with his fingers. "Forgive me, ladies, I'm afraid I have not quite come to terms with it all just yet."

Emily and her friends rushed to reassure him that his outpouring of emotion was not unwelcome.

"I've ruined our tea, haven't I?" he asked at last.