The English Lord's Secret Son (14 page)

“Goodnight, my darling,” she said.

Goodnight, Mummy.

Your enemies are my enemies.

He spoke silently. He couldn’t find a voice to answer her. He pretended to be sound asleep. It was what she would have wanted anyway. He knew perfectly well his mother would be tremendously upset to know he had overheard her argument with Nan.

Only she’s not your nan, is she?

You have a father. You have a mother AND a father. Only your father denied you your birthright.

For a moment seven-year-old Jules was gripped by near-adult fury.
Why
had his father abandoned him and his mother? What his mother had told him wasn’t good enough.
He determined he would find out the real reason. He would have it out with this man, his father, Lord Wyndham. He didn’t care if he was a lord or not. Titles had nothing to do with anything so far as he was concerned.

He would have it out with Mr Wyndham the very next day. The insult was so great.

You need to give me some answers. I’m nearly eight years old. I have a right to express my feelings.

Yet his beautiful mother—the most beautiful mother in the world—abandoned or not, had named him after his father.
Julian
. Why would she do that? Nothing made sense. Yet he knew what he had to do. He had to protect her.

* * *

Jules’ heart was racing. He was in a bit of a panic. He waited until his mother drove away before he crossed to the other side of the road, pretending he was waiting for a school friend. The seconds seemed to be spinning into hours. As usual there were so many cars dropping off kids. He hoped Noah’s mum would be late this morning. He didn’t want to have to confront Noah. He was a man on a mission. It was a hot morning so he wasn’t wearing Kingsley’s distinctive school blazer. He should have had his hat on, but he didn’t. His heart was now up in his throat. Sooner or later some conscientious mother was bound to ask him what he was doing. His mother always checked up on stray kids.

Like a miracle, a taxi double parked for a moment right in front of him. One of the older boys got out, slamming the door. “What are you up to, Hamilton?” He fixed his eyes on the younger boy.

Jules saw a heaven-sent opportunity. “Hi, Daniel. I have to go back into town. I have a dentist appointment Mum forgot. My nan is going to take me.” He appealed to the taxi driver. “Can you drive me back to the city, please? I have to meet my nan outside the Four Seasons Hotel. I have the money.”

The taxi driver shouldn’t have, but he said, “Right-o, hop in.”

“I hope you’re telling the truth, Hamilton?” the older boy asked, clearly dissatisfied with Jules’ story.

“Please, don’t hold us up, Daniel. I won’t make it on time.”

“All right, go, then,” Daniel said. “But I’m going to check with your teacher,” he warned.

“That’s okay!” Jules waved a hand. “See you later.”

“Playing the wag, are you?” the taxi driver, a jovial man, asked when they were under way.

“No, no! I need to get to the hotel. Please hurry.”

“Better to keep to the speed limit,” his driver chortled. The boy looked like an angel. Clearly he was not.

* * *

Safely inside the hotel, Jules marched straight up to Reception. For a minute or two the smart young woman behind the reception desk ignored him. “What are you doing here, little boy? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“I’m here to see Lord Wyndham,” Jules answered, slightly intimidated despite himself.

The receptionist actually laughed. “Are you just! And who shall I say is calling?”

“Please tell him it’s Jules,” he said, squaring his shoulders. She needed to take him seriously.

“Jules who?” The receptionist placed the boy’s age at around seven. He was a very handsome boy with thick blond hair and beautiful sapphire-blue eyes. His accent sounded English to her ears. He seemed excessively precocious for a kid his age. He really needed a set-down.

“Lord Wyndham knows me,” Jules said without a blink. “I’m a relative of his.” He formulated the words clearly.

“Of course you are!” the receptionist cried with splendid disbelief. Here was a kid of seven, going on seventy.

“May I speak to the manager?” Jules was eager to confront his father. He remembered his mother had asked to speak to the manager once when they were in Hong Kong. “If you could find him for me?” he suggested politely. “Or you could ring Lord Wyndham and check with him.”

The receptionist’s indignation became evident. She was seriously taken aback. Who did this kid think he was? “A great favourite of his, are you?”

“I did say I’m a relative,” Jules reminded her.

The receptionist physically jerked back. “One minute,” she said crisply. “You’ll be in big trouble, sonny, if you’re playing some sort of game. Sit down over there in the lobby.” She pointed an officious hand.

“Thank you so much,” said Jules, ever polite.

The receptionist’s smile had a vague air of malevolence.

What a kid!
Anyone would think he was royalty! The receptionist, huffing to herself, put through the call to Lord Wyndham’s suite. There was probably one chance in a million the drop-dead gorgeous Wyndham knew the boy. The kid was most likely up to some prank. But she had to hand it to him. He had
style
.

To her astonishment, when she told Lord Wyndham a boy called Jules was waiting for him in the lobby he told her he would be right down.

How about that?
She could have short-circuited her career in hotel management. Come to think of it the boy had Lord Wyndham’s amazingly blue eyes and thick black lashes. He could very well be a relative.

She waited until Lord Wyndham walked into the lobby. She saw the tall, handsome British lord put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, probably asking him what he was there for. The boy’s face was upturned to him. He was speaking earnestly, with the look of someone who had a perfect right to be there. The next thing the two of them walked off towards the bank of lifts.

I ask you!
Quite obviously the boy wasn’t just any kid. He had identified himself as “Jules”. Lord Wyndham had booked in as Julian Carlisle. She mulled over that nugget of information, wondering if it would be useful.

* * *

Cate was at her desk, when Stella rang. “What is it, Stella?” she asked, still not over her terrible upset at her aunt’s behaviour. “I’m busy at the moment.”

Stella lost no time relaying the news the school had rung. Jules had not turned up. He wasn’t in class. An older boy Daniel Morris had spoken to him before school. Jules claimed he had to go into the city for a dentist appointment his mother had forgotten. He was to meet his grandmother. Jules got into the same cab the older boy had taken to school and told the cab driver he was meeting his grandmother at the Four Seasons Hotel.

The Four Seasons Hotel?
Jules had gone to where Ashe was staying.

She was about to hang up on Stella, telling her she would handle it, only Stella chipped in, “He’s gone to his father,” she said. “His
father
,
over
you
.
Over
me
.
He won’t want us now.”

Realisation dawned on Cate. Stella felt threatened, whereas she didn’t feel threatened at all. She had come to see she had been given a chance in a million. The chance to put things right. Fate had brought her and Ashe together again despite the forces that had been at work against them. They would now have to work out the future. Right now, she had to ring the school, and then get herself to the Four Seasons Hotel. At that moment her job meant little to her. She had worked so hard, worked endless hours, all night sometimes. What did it add up to? She had known for years she was missing out on
real
life. She could no longer deny Ashe had a right to be part of his son’s life. There were hard decisions to be made.

* * *

By the time Ashe made his phone call to Catrina—he had listened in silence to his son’s impassioned stream of questions, before answering them as quietly and seriously as he knew how—he was told she had left work citing a family emergency. He swiftly put two and two together. She was coming to the hotel. Jules had told him all about the taxi ride into town. He walked away from the child into the other room to ring Stella. Jules had told him as well about “the fight” and the revelations that had emerged. For some reason Ashe realised he had queered his pitch with Stella, his kinswoman. This was instantly confirmed from the coldness of Stella’s voice. Nevertheless he went on to assure her Jules was safe with him.

“Think you can show up when you like!” Her voice was startlingly loud in his ear.

“When and where I like, Stella,” he said, dismayed by her reaction. “I’m paying you the courtesy of telling you my son and your great-nephew is safe.”

“You want to know a secret?” Stella’s icy voice came back at him in retaliation. “She’s Rafe Stewart’s daughter.”

“Just as I thought.” Ashe’s reply was remarkably calm. “Does that set your conscience free, Stella? I should have recognised that wonderful colouring, the gold and the green. But you knew all along, didn’t you? To think how you’ve deceived your own niece!”

“How could I not?” the gentle, unflappable Stella returned vehemently.

“That’s not love,” Ashe lamented. “You were driven by some form of
hate
.
”

“She was born looking so like him.” Stella sounded as though she was talking more to herself than to him.

“The young man who was madly in love with Annabel, not you,” Ashe said quietly. “I don’t like to dwell on how you went about damaging Annabel’s reputation. You were very cunning. You had to diminish her in people’s eyes. Sadly you were often believed. Even I heard the stories of wicked little Annabel Radclyffe. Poor misjudged Annabel, I’d now say. Goodbye, Stella. I believe Catrina is on her way here. Her father, Rafe Stewart, will be thrilled out of his mind to finally meet her.”

“Don’t count on it!” Stella made a harsh grunting noise.

“I am counting on it. Rafe will know who she is before ever a word is spoken. You force-fed Catrina a pack of lies.” His tone told her plainly she had acted very badly.

“I have a special gift for them,” Stella retorted, unfazed. Then, to his dismay, laughed. “We got on well without you. And Rafe,” she said. “Now you’ve got the lot!”

“What goes around, comes around, Stella,” was his reply.

* * *

When a knock came, Jules rushed to the door. “That will be Mummy,” he cried excitedly.

“Well, let her in, Julian,” Ashe advised calmly. He was still recovering from being taken to task with a vengeance by a small boy who just happened to be his son. He couldn’t think of a single soul who had confronted him thus unless it was Jules’ mother. It was made very clear to him protecting his mother was central to Jules’ existence. He, the father, was perceived as the man who had disavowed them. That was his son’s world as it was and as he saw it. He had used all his powers of persuasion to get the boy to sit down so they could talk it out, even to the extent of getting into human relationships and moral issues. He had pointed out Jules would find as an adult there were always harsh realities in life to confront. He had set out his case. He had left it to Jules to determine the outcome. It was tremendously important for his son to understand the circumstances that had driven him and Catrina apart. He thought he might have been pushing a seven-year-old boy to his extreme limits but his son’s high intelligence was well on display. Catrina had reared their son well. She had given him a childhood of stability and love. Jules was a confident child. For one so young he had achieved an impressive state of equilibrium. The silent rages that he had quite naturally harboured against his missing father had been at long last addressed. Hopefully the scars would fade.

His son’s question gave him the answer. “Is everything going to be all right?” It was clear he had become an authority figure.

“Of course it is, Julian. Open the door,” Ashe bid him calmly.

Mother and son fell into one another’s arms. “Don’t you ever do that again!” Cate cried, bending over her precious child. “Not
ever
!
” she repeated fiercely, her eyes moving over Jules’ blond head to find Ashe. Ashe nodded to her, knowing she was reading his mind. Their son’s issues had been addressed. “Why didn’t you speak to me, Jules?” Cate turned back to her son. “You should have spoken to me.”

He had already been told that by his father. Still, he spoke his mind. “I had to handle this myself.” His blue eyes were very bright. “But I’m very sorry, Mum, if you were worried.”

“Worried!” Cate echoed, casting her eyes up to heaven.

“All’s well that ends well.” Ashe spoke gently from behind them. “Come in, Catrina. Shut the door. You’ve rung the school?”

“Of course.” She looked into his face, all her old love for him surging back. One could live a lifetime and still not know the evils that existed inside other people’s souls. Jealousy was a deadly sin. The people that were closest to them—for Ashe, his mother; for her, her aunt Stella—had caused so much damage it was a miracle they had finally won through. It was their job now to refocus on the future and what was best for their son. Ashe wanted him. He wanted her. Past history would not be allowed to tarnish the future.

“You’ll be in a spot of bother at school, Julian,” Ashe was telling his son.

“What can they do to me?” Jules kept his arm around his mother, feeling a great upsurge of happiness, of
family
.
“They wouldn’t expel me, would they?”

“No, but you won’t get off scot-free.” Ashe made it perfectly clear. “You may have thought you were doing the right thing, but you weren’t. There was your mother to be considered, and others. The school has a duty of care. It’s a very serious matter when a child takes it into their head to go AWOL.”

“I know what that means,” said Jules. “Away without leave?”

“It does.” Ashe nodded. His son had confided he liked to think of himself as a soldier. No bad thing at all.