An Unlikely Father Read Free Page B

Oliver gave a wicked grin, then turned to the lady’s companion. “Do you think I might trouble you for some tea, dear Miss Millet?”
    The dowager looked at Miss Millet, who’d been sitting quietly during the exchange, as the spinster blushed at the earl’s notice. The ladies exchanged a look which could only be interpreted as “this young man is hopeless.” Then the aged companion began to pour a cup of tea for the earl.
    Lady Hawksworth was not to be distracted from the true purpose of her visit. “I did not come to discuss your newest paramour, young man. We have far more important matters to discuss. I want to know what you have done about honoring your promise to your late grandfather?”
    Oliver took the cup of tea Miss Millet offered him. He bent forward, dropping a lump of sugar into the liquid, using the time to search his memory for a long - forgotten pledge. His grandfather had died some fourteen years earlier. What vow had Oliver foolishly made and forgotten?
    At last he looked up at the dowager. “I fear you have me at a disadvantage. I cannot remember having made a promise of any significance to my grandfather.”
    “ ’Tis a sad fact that memory fades as one ages, my boy.” The old lady’s eyes glittered with amusement.
    “I am five-and-thirty, madam, not five-and-sixty. What was this promise?” Oliver snapped, too often amazed at how his grandmother held the ability to prick his pride.
    “ ’Twas made the night of your twenty-first birthday,” the lady announced, watching to see if the date triggered his memory.
    The night’s events flashed into Oliver’s mind for the first time in years. A naive young cawker back then, he’d started the evening with anticipation and delight, thinking himself in love. But Lady Rose had driven a knife into his heart all those years ago. He’d come upon her in the gardens in the arms of Colonel Fenn as she was saying that if Oliver came up to scratch, she would marry him for his title and wealth, but her heart would always belong to the soldier.
    The memory was no longer painful, but Oliver remembered he’d spent much of the evening in a haze of misery. He’d only wanted to go away to lick his wounded pride, but instead duty to his family and a good dose of champagne had kept him at the party, pretending to enjoy his night. Had he made some promise to his grandfather during those long hours of self-pity and over-indulgence?
    “I cannot remember making a promise to anyone.”
    Lady Hawksworth’s eyes narrowed. “Do not think you shall be able to slip out of your pledge, for I was present when you swore to marry before your thirty - sixth birthday if you had not done your duty before then.”
    Oliver nearly shattered the fine bone china as his hand tightened on his teacup from shock. Had he foolishly promised the old earl to wed by the end of this year? He must have been completely out of his mind. Or at the very least too deep in his cups to know what he was about. He had no desire to become leg-shackled, now or ever.
    He set his cup back on the tray and rose, aware of two pair of curious eyes watching him intently. He went to the window and gazed out at the small, well - tended garden, trying to reason his way out of this dilemma.
    His thoughts more ordered, he looked back at his grandmother. “If Grandfather requested such a promise, no doubt it was for the sake of a future heir. My brother has provided an heir, and therefore I see no need for me to become entangled in the bonds of matrimony.”
    Lady Hawksworth rose with surprising agility for one of her years, marching towards her grandson with purpose. The only sound in the room was the rustling of her deep-green skirts. When she stood in front of him, she squared her shoulders as if she were prepared to do battle. “Are you certain you still have an heir? If you ever paid any attention to your correspondence, you would perhaps have noticed there has been no letter from Anna or James for over two