Page 122 of Not a Fine Gentleman

Arlington’s mouth curved into a gentle, patient smile. “Did she ever tell you what happened between us? Why we didn’t live together as a family?” Something about his father’s gaze felt too personal, as if he knew too much. It was disconcerting.

Connor focused on pressing the tips of his fingers together. “She told me she was your children’s governess and that you were a viscount, heir to an earldom.”

“Is that all she told you?”

Connor swallowed the angry words he wanted to throw at his negligent father. “You bought her the cottage in Chelsea where I was raised and sent her money to live on. And you paid for my education and commission.”

“That cottage belongs to you now, of course, since the deed was in her name.”

Connor nodded slowly. He’d toyed with letting it out or even selling it, a welcome source of income, but that felt too much like accepting money from his father, something he was loathe to do. Even if he wanted to live in a house his father had given to his mother, Chelsea was too far from Bow Street to be a practical residence for him.

Lord Arlington gestured to the ring Connor wore. “I’m surprised to see you wearing that. I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

Connor fingered the ring. “At first, I wore it so if I were killed, someone would see my connection to you. Maybe you’d pay for my burial or something.” He dug deeper and found a reason he’d never admitted even to himself. “I thought I’d somehow feel as if I once mattered to you.”

“You’ve always mattered to me.”

“Not enough to raise as your son.”

Lord Arlington leaned his head back against the seat. “It was never about my affection for you.”

“It was about my mother, then.”

“No. I loved your mother. Very much.”

Connor stared at him. What game did he play?

A lifetime of bitterness rose up again and poured out of him. “You didn’t love her enough to make an honest woman of her,” Connor growled.

Lord Arlington said, “Connor. I married your mother before you were conceived.”

Connor rocked back. “What?”

Arlington nodded. “We married against my family’s wishes.”

Connor grappled with the news.

Arlington continued, “She was my daughter’s governess, that’s true. My first wife had died giving birth to our third child. When my oldest daughter was old enough for a governess, I hired a fiery Irish girl named Aideen Jackson.” He smiled faintly. “Her father was English, hence the English surname. I assume you know that?”

Connor nodded. He knew little about his mother’s family since she was orphaned at the age of sixteen and left to fend for herself in the world, but she had told him of her origins.

With an apologetic smile, Arlington reached over to the table next to him and picked up a large family bible. Holding it so Connor could see, he opened it to the page where marriages and births had been carefully recorded in a variety of handwriting. There, in clear script, was recorded the marriage of his parents, Connor James Milles-Montagu, Earl of Arlington, to Aideen Jackson.

Connor looked up. “Connor?”

Arlington’s apologetic smile deepened to true sorrow. “Your mother wanted to name you after me.” He gestured to the Bible. “My surname is Milles-Montagu. So was yours.”

Underneath their names listed their child, Connor Jackson Milles-Montagu.

Connor pressed a hand on his head. “I don’t understand. Everything I thought I knew was a lie.”

“Unfortunately for you… for all of us… we had the marriage annulled.”

Connor’s voice failed him, and he could only gasp, “What?”

“Trust me, there’s nothing I regret more.” Arlington’s words came out in a rush. “My parents, my siblings, even my daughters, who’d loved having her for a governess, refused to accept her as my wife. They objected to the idea of me marrying the family’s governess, and not only that, an Irish girl. And if that wasn’t bad enough—in their eyes, of course—she was Catholic. But Aideen and I were convinced that love was enough. And for a time, it was. You were born, and we’d hoped her giving me an heir would pacify my parents. It only made it worse. And your sisters refused to even look at you. Their behavior toward Aideen worsened.”

Arlington shook his head. “I failed her in so many ways. I thought if I ignored my daughters’ behavior, they’d eventually accept her and you, but instead, they grew vicious. My mother was downright abusive. I tried to intervene, but it wasn’t enough. Naturally, Aideen became resentful—of them, of me for not defending her. It became too much. When you were about a year old, Aideen took you and left.”