Free Eulogy's Secret (The Huntley Trilogy) by Grace Elliot

the back of Eulogy’s neck. “Oh?”
    But Farrell withdrew again, tracing circles in the gravy on his plate. Eulogy waited, her patience rewarded as Farrell sighed and looked up.
    “I know you want to hear of your mother….”
     “More than anything.”
    His eyes met hers, weighted with pain.
    “Your mother…Ella…was a wonderful woman.”
    Eulogy gripped the table top. “Ella?” Her voice shook. “Her name was Gabriella?”
    “Aye, her given name was Gabriella all right. Only I called her Ella, it made her smile.”
    “Yes?” Eulogy’s heart swelled.
    “Kind, gentle, a rare beauty.” Farrell eyes grew misty. “You coming here, tis as if she has come back to give me a second chance.”
    Eulogy didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. “You knew her well?” A hitherto unformed thought took shape and she blushed violently. “Oh!”
    Farrell shook his head. “Now, Mauvoreen, don’t go getting any wrong ideas now. No, I was honored to name Gabriella Devlin as a true friend, but we were never lovers if that’s what you’re thinking. Lady Devlin was a noble woman, in the purest sense of the word. Utterly faithful to that bully of a husband.” With a curse, he reached for the porter, and then again, with an equally vehement oath pushed it aside.
    Eulogy’s heart thudded. Farrell must be confused. How could her father be a bully when he loved his wife so much? To be so devastated by her death? Eulogy let the point go. “How did you know her?”
    “Lord Devlin commissioned me to paint her portrait. A good artist studies his subject, gets inside their mind, and I was the best.” Farrell paused, to turn his penetrating blue eyes on Eulogy only now he didn’t seem like a man confused. “Huntley doesn’t know. He hasn’t realized you’re a Devlin?”
    “You alone believe me. After the death of my guardians, I came in search of my last living relative, my brother.”
    Farrell sat bolt upright. “Lucien Devlin!”
    “Yes, I tried to explain to Lord Devlin, but he called me a liar.”
    “You’ve seen Devlin?” Farrell looked shocked.
    “Indeed.”
    “Heed my warning.” Farrell’s hands shook. “That man is a serpent. He appears a gentleman, but has no compunction in using people. The less you have to do with him the better.”
     “But he’s my brother. There’s much that only he can tell me.”
    “Devlin’s not to be trusted.”
    “Even so, to learn from the woman who raised me on her death bed that I have a living relative, a brother. Can’t you see I have to speak with him?”
    Farrell avoided her gaze and nervously licked his lips and muttering, “Lucien Devlin would assume you wanted money.”
    But Eulogy refused to be deterred. “If I cannot ask him, then who?”
    Reaching for the tankard, Farrell stared into the porter. “I cannot. Not yet.”
    “When you first saw me, you saw Ella didn’t you?”
    Farrell paled.
    “She trusted you. Don’t you think she would want me to know the truth? Why else would her letter tell me to find you if ever I needed help.”
    A groan escaped Farrell’s lips. “She did that?”
    “A letter written as she lay dying, giving birth to me!”
    “I don’t understand.” Farrell looked startled. “That’s not how it was.”
    Eulogy was dumbstruck. “I don’t understand.”
    “Now dear,” Mrs. Featherstone interrupted, “Tis enough ghosts woken for one night. Perhaps tomorrow.”
    A pathetic sob wracked Farrell’s frame. “I let Ella down and on my life I swear to tell you everything, soon, but not tonight. Tis too sudden.”
     
    -oO0Oo-
     
    As the days passed, life fell into a new rhythm; each morning Eulogy helped Mrs. Featherstone and then in the afternoon she went looking for work. But no one wanted to hire a young woman without references, and each day Eulogy walked further, venturing into backstreets and the poorer neighborhoods, half-expecting to be attacked. Out of desperation, several times a day she pulled out Huntley’s card,