Free Anne Barbour by Kateand the Soldier Page A

with it. You’ve already been prosing on for hours.”
    “We have been here for only forty-five minutes, Lord, er, Standing,” said the attorney, drawing his watch from his waistcoat, “and one cannot rush these things.”
    “Fudge,” said Lawrence. Then he added importantly, “But you really should address me as Lord Falworth, you know.”
    Mr. Smollett opened his mouth, but immediately closed it again, and contented himself with a sour smile.
    “Before we discuss the various bequests,” he said, “I must read a document signed by his lordship only a few days before he passed away. It is of, er, some significance ...” Here he glanced at Lawrence, who was boredly leafing through a copy of the Racing Journal he had picked up from the table beside his chair. “... So I ask that you all pay close attention.”
    Mr. Smollett adjusted his spectacles and began reading.
    “ ‘I, Thomas Merritt, third earl of Falworth, Viscount Standing, Baron ...’“
    “Please spare us the embroidery, Mr. Smollett,” interjected Lady Falworth. “We are all familiar with my husband’s titles. Is this to be a very long document? Perhaps you could paraphrase it.”
    Mr. Smollett stiffened, and his already formidable brows beetled alarmingly, but his voice was controlled as he replied.
    “No, my lady, it is not a long document. If I may proceed?”
    He lowered his eyes again to the paper in his hands.
    “ ‘I, er, Thomas, do affirm that while in the West Indies, in the year 1790, I became acquainted with Miss Felice Wharburton, a young woman living on the island of Barbados in the West Indies. Miss Wharburton’s mother was the former Dominque Le Fevre, a native of the Indies. Her father, George Wharburton of Great Shelford, Cambridgeshire, was a clerk in the governor’s office there. I fell in love with Felice, and ...’ “
    “Good God!” It was Regina who spoke, fairly quivering in her outrage. “Are we to be subjected to a chronicle of my husband’s youthful misdeeds? How dare you, Mr. Smollett!”
    “I’m sorry for any discomfort you may be caused, my lady,” replied the little attorney, who did not look sorry in the slightest, “but this reading, as you will see, is necessary.”
    Referring again to the paper, he continued. “ ‘I fell in love with Felice, and in the course of our relationship, she became pregnant. I wished to marry her, but feared the reaction of my family. Felice died giving birth to our son, David, on November 15, 1791, but I am happy to say that shortly before that event, I overcame my reluctance. I now affirm that on August 10, 1791, Felice Wharburton and I were married in the Church of Santa Clara, on the island of Carriacou, a dependency of Grenada, where I lived at the time on my family’s spice plantation. Our vows were repeated later in a ceremony performed by a British cleric on the same island. Felice, therefore, was my first wife, the Viscountess Standing, and, had she lived, would have become the Countess of Falworth.’“
    Mr. Smollett smiled benignly, first at Regina, who had shrunk in her chair as though struck, her face a ghastly white, and then at Lawrence, who sat, quizzing glass at the ready, a puzzled expression beginning to spread over his features. The attorney’s gaze then moved to David, who had risen to face him, thunderstruck.
    Mr. Smollett, too, rose, and extended his hand. “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on the accession to your father’s title, Lord Falworth.”
     

Chapter Six
     
    Mr. Smollett smiled benignly at the scene of chaos before him. Lady Falworth had now also risen from her chair, and she advanced on the attorney as though he, personally, were responsible for the crack that had just opened in her world. Her eyes glittered darkly in her white face.
    “This—this is monstrous! What kind of hoax are you trying to perpetrate?”
    Ignoring her completely, Mr. Smollett stood and moved toward David, who still seemed rooted to the