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“Two men arrived and
    so I hid myself away. They took poor little Charles Henry, who was stil born, and set Anthony in my sister’s arms. One man, Jake Potter, could not just walk away. He tried to make my dying sister and the baby comfortable and warm, even building a fire. Then he slipped some papers beneath her covers,
    tel ing her that he and a few others had gathered what proof they could for the boy so that, if he survived, he could prove who he was.”
    “But he did no more? He just left her and the child alone and helpless?”
    “He was afraid. They are al afraid at Colinsmoor. People who disobey do not live long. Jake’s partner reminded him of that sad truth. Something
    about a man named Melvin and a pit. Leopold knows more about al that than I do. The moment Jake left, I rejoined my sister. She soon died, but she was
    at peace with it. I buried her and that poor babe’s bones near the cottage. Then I took Anthony and headed for London to join Leopold, who was expecting
    me. For the last three years we have waited for you to learn the truth about your wife.”
    “I have known most of it for a year now.”
    “True, but you did not take it wel , did you? The way you behaved made Leopold feel that you were not real y prepared to hear all the truth. We
    cannot wait any longer. You came too close to being murdered this time and, even now, Anthony sees Leopold and me as his family. And to be blunt, his
    heritage needs protecting—now.”
    Julian let go of her hand and covered his eyes, softly reciting every curse he knew. He sought to stir up anger and resolve, to overcome the urge to
    weep like some brokenhearted child. The crimes against him were almost too great to comprehend, especial y since his wife and his uncle had
    committed them. Yet he did believe and the grief, the pain, he fought to control formed a hard knot in his chest. Worse, this wide-eyed innocent miss knew
    it al , even knew of the depths he had sunk into over the last year.
    As he began to regain control of his emotions, he realized something else. This smal , delicate woman and her dying sister had planned, very
    cleverly, a way to save his child. This stranger had buried her sister and, despite the grief she must have been suffering, had taken his child out of danger.
    She had made her way to London and cared for his child for three years as she waited for him to be able to take on the responsibility. What he owed this
    woman and Lord Sir Leopold was beyond calculating, and the debt was bound to grow as they helped him defeat his enemies. It humbled him and he
    found that an uncomfortable feeling. When he took his hand from his eyes, he stared at the bedclothes as he tried to conquer that feeling as wel .
    “I stil do not understand how you knew to do al you did,” he final y said.
    “Ah, wel , I suspect you have heard a few rumors about the Wherlockes and our cousins the Vaughns,” she said.
    “Foolish things about spirits and gifts. Even sorcery and witchcraft. There have always been such rumors about your family. One should pay no
    heed to rumors.”
    “Nay? Not even when those same rumors have been whispered throughout the ton for generations? True, many rumors are to be doubted, but I
    believe one should at least listen to them. In our case, these rumors have caused wives to leave our men and husbands to leave our women. And most
    leave the children they have bred together as wel . Time and time again. In the past, those rumors have caused Vaughns and Wherlockes to be burned at the stake or hanged or hunted down like wild beasts.”
    He frowned at her. “Are you claiming to be a witch?”
    “Nay, m’lord,” she replied as she plumped up his pil ows again and helped him sit up more comfortably. “Oh, there have been some of us who
    have dabbled in what many cal the dark arts but, nay, we are not evil witches or warlocks or worshippers of Satan.” She held out a goblet of cider enriched with healing herbs. “Drink.”
    After