Alas, he found it difficult to know what to talk to her about because the relationship was still so new and precarious. He was glad to know that they both liked horses, and he would have enjoyed getting to know her better. There was something about her, something intriguing that had interested him, but the trouble was that he wasn’t entirely certain she had changed her mind about him in the least. He’d been quite surprised she’d even agreed to this dinner.
She had been a bit more cordial when they were in the stable earlier, but so far, they had been exceedingly formal.
He took another sip, then placed his spoon down. “Charity, I was wondering—I know we spoke about maybe going into town this upcoming Sunday. Have you had a chance to think about it?”
She looked up as if taken by surprise. But then she smiled, and as he looked at her, he could not help but note how beautiful she was. Her entire face lit up when she smiled. If only she did it more often.
“I would like that. I’m sure Ambrose would like it too.”
“Very good. We shall go in the morning, then. If we arrive right after church lets out, we shall have the best chance of seeing as many of the folk as possible. Usually, one of the grooms accompanies me so I have a chance to talk to people while the children ride.”
“Ah, what a splendid idea. We shall have a groom and myself. We can each walk one of the horses and you can take the time to talk to the populace. And perhaps then we can take turns, so I can do the same,” she said, her tone lighter now.
“Indeed, I think that would be preferable.” He couldn’t deny it—he quite enjoyed making plans with her, and he could already imagine the day unfolding before him. However, then she grew serious and folded her hands in her lap.
“But surely we do not have to go too early so that you can attend church,” she said.
He looked at her and pushed his jaw forward slightly. “Church? I do not ordinarily attend church, but if you would like to, you are welcome to.”
“Oh, I do not like going to church. I never have. My father was what one might call an ‘unbeliever believer.’ He was Church of England if he was asked, but he did not often go to church. My mother did. I would accompany her, but it was not my preference. But if you wish me to go, of course?—”
“You do not need to,” he said. “The freedom to practice or not practice any religion is something this country has grappled with for a very long time. I shall not impose anything on you in this house.”
Silence fell between them again, but neither picked up their utensils. Something was on her mind—he knew it. But he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Still, the way she examined him with her sparkling eyes gave him pause and made him want to brace himself for whatever she was thinking about.
“Your Grace,” she said. “I mean, Eammon. I wanted to say that I believe I know the secret you have been keeping from me.”
“Oh,” he said, taking a sharp breath. She had figured it out? How? Who had told her? He wondered for a moment if Thomas had taken it on himself to inform Charity about the truth of his origins, but he hadn’t been alone with her. And why would he do such a thing after Eammon had told him specifically not to?
“My secret, you say? And pray, what might that be?” He tried his hardest to appear as nonchalant as possible, not wanting to give her any ideas.
She turned to him so she could look directly into his eyes. “My cousin filled me in. I am aware that your lineage was perhaps not as proper as some might have liked. But I assure you, it does not bother me.”
Hercousin had told her? Now Eammon was completely confused. What in the world could her cousin have to do with any of this? None but those who were his own kin were supposed to know. Had Lady Millie perhaps had acquaintances in Ireland who might have said something? But even then, hardly anybody knew, and those who might have suspected had been compensated more than twenty years ago to forever buy their silence.
He did not know Pembroke very well, but from what his father had said, his friend had always been thorough.
“I did not quite understand why you appeared so upset when I said you did not much look like your family, but now I do. I should not have said it without knowing your history. I feel awful about it. But the truth is that I am glad that I know. Though it must be difficult for you, not having your family near. That is, part of your family—the part left behind in Ireland.”
Ireland.
She knew.
Eammon felt sweat break out on his forehead and at the nape of his neck, his palms becoming ever more slippery by the moment.
“I do not have family in Ireland,” he finally choked out.
“Oh, I meant, of course, your late mother’s. She did not have siblings?”
He let out an imperceptible breath as the anxiety and stress drained from him, and he felt his shoulders sag down again. He hadn’t even been aware that he had pulled them together.
She had discovered the story his father had told everybody—the tale of his supposed Irish mother. That was what she thought she had learned. Not the real truth.
He felt relieved, but at the same time, something nagged at him. If she had known that he was not the duke’s son at all, there would not have been any more secrets between them. As it was, he had to carry on with the lie.
“My mother. I did not know that you were unaware of my story.”
“I spent most of my life living away from London, and my father did not gossip. And when my mother did, it was always about ladies and their lack of accomplishments—never about anything of substance,” she said. “It must have been difficult for you to grow up knowing that many within our society would dislike you because your mother was Irish and Catholic.”
