Landon
Ransomed Jewels Series Book Two
CHAPTER 7
Him.
He had a son. She’d confirmed it when she’d said a colder day still before you lay eyes on “him”.
Ross stared absently out his study window, then turned his attention back to the papers scattered across his desk. They were filled with words he’d written to present to Lady Clythebrook when they talked, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall what he’d put down. Since Josephine Foley had let slip that the child Carrie had given him was a son, he’d found it impossible to concentrate. And Miss Foley probably didn’t even realize she’d given away such a telling detail.
He dipped his pen in the ink well and started to write, then placed his pen back on the desk. How could he possibly keep his mind focused on such insignificant details as grazing acres, water estimates, and the market value for a few hundred cattle when he’d just discovered he had a son? How could he do the figures for well depths, manpower needs, and initial outlay expenses, when for nearly four years he’d had a son and he didn’t even know his name? Or if the child was well or sick? Or blond-haired like Carrie, or dark like him?
Ross shoved his chair back and bolted to his feet. He thought he knew every nuance of living with the heavy burden of guilt: the racing heart; overwhelming fear; shortness of breath; cold, clammy flesh; sleepless nights; terrifying nightmares; the ringing in his ears, and blood rushing through his head. That he’d killed his father was secondary to knowing that his child was out there somewhere, alone. Perhaps frightened and hungry. Perhaps being mistreated.
He raked his fingers through his hair and fought a fresh wave of guilt that attacked him. How could he have gone more than four years without realizing Carrie might have been carrying his child when she left? Oh, theirs was no great love match. Neither of them had ever considered it so. But they had both genuinely cared for the other.
At the time, she’d explained she was weary of being someone’s mistress and asked him to provide her a modest yearly income and a home someplace a safe distance from London. He’d thought it a reasonable request. It even seemed a welcome solution. Breaking off with a mistress was always unpleasant. He remembered thinking how easy Carrie had made it for him. He’d escaped their relationship virtually unscathed.
Bloody hell. What kind of bastard had he been? What kind of fool? To not consider there’d been another reason that she’d left him. To not give the woman he’d lived with for more than a year a second thought and to continue his high living without skipping a beat. No wonder his father had stooped to selling military secrets so the son he’d always doted on could continue his extravagant lifestyle.
Ross almost ran to the small side-table to pour himself a drink. For months, the numbing effects of gallons of liquor had been the only panacea to forgetting that he’d been the one who’d caused his father to betray his country. That to save Sam’s life, Ross had been the one who’d pulled the trigger that had put a bullet through his father’s heart. But drinking hadn’t softened what he’d done; only made the nightmares worse. So he’d given up his goal to drown his past and faced it headlong.
If discovering who was behind the smuggling ring was the only way he could redeem the Rainforth name, then he’d move heaven and hell to accomplish it. And nothing Josephine Foley could say or do would stop him.
Ross looked back down at the papers on his desk then stopped when Benedict knocked softly and opened the door.
“You have guests, sir.”
“Guests?”
“Yes, sir. Lady Lindville, and her son, Baron Lindville.”
Ross hesitated. After his confrontation with Lindville yesterday, his first inclination was to have Benedict tell them he was from home. Curiosity finally got the better of him and he placed his pen on the stack of papers he’d
Ransomed Jewels Series Book Two
CHAPTER 7
Him.
He had a son. She’d confirmed it when she’d said a colder day still before you lay eyes on “him”.
Ross stared absently out his study window, then turned his attention back to the papers scattered across his desk. They were filled with words he’d written to present to Lady Clythebrook when they talked, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall what he’d put down. Since Josephine Foley had let slip that the child Carrie had given him was a son, he’d found it impossible to concentrate. And Miss Foley probably didn’t even realize she’d given away such a telling detail.
He dipped his pen in the ink well and started to write, then placed his pen back on the desk. How could he possibly keep his mind focused on such insignificant details as grazing acres, water estimates, and the market value for a few hundred cattle when he’d just discovered he had a son? How could he do the figures for well depths, manpower needs, and initial outlay expenses, when for nearly four years he’d had a son and he didn’t even know his name? Or if the child was well or sick? Or blond-haired like Carrie, or dark like him?
Ross shoved his chair back and bolted to his feet. He thought he knew every nuance of living with the heavy burden of guilt: the racing heart; overwhelming fear; shortness of breath; cold, clammy flesh; sleepless nights; terrifying nightmares; the ringing in his ears, and blood rushing through his head. That he’d killed his father was secondary to knowing that his child was out there somewhere, alone. Perhaps frightened and hungry. Perhaps being mistreated.
He raked his fingers through his hair and fought a fresh wave of guilt that attacked him. How could he have gone more than four years without realizing Carrie might have been carrying his child when she left? Oh, theirs was no great love match. Neither of them had ever considered it so. But they had both genuinely cared for the other.
At the time, she’d explained she was weary of being someone’s mistress and asked him to provide her a modest yearly income and a home someplace a safe distance from London. He’d thought it a reasonable request. It even seemed a welcome solution. Breaking off with a mistress was always unpleasant. He remembered thinking how easy Carrie had made it for him. He’d escaped their relationship virtually unscathed.
Bloody hell. What kind of bastard had he been? What kind of fool? To not consider there’d been another reason that she’d left him. To not give the woman he’d lived with for more than a year a second thought and to continue his high living without skipping a beat. No wonder his father had stooped to selling military secrets so the son he’d always doted on could continue his extravagant lifestyle.
Ross almost ran to the small side-table to pour himself a drink. For months, the numbing effects of gallons of liquor had been the only panacea to forgetting that he’d been the one who’d caused his father to betray his country. That to save Sam’s life, Ross had been the one who’d pulled the trigger that had put a bullet through his father’s heart. But drinking hadn’t softened what he’d done; only made the nightmares worse. So he’d given up his goal to drown his past and faced it headlong.
If discovering who was behind the smuggling ring was the only way he could redeem the Rainforth name, then he’d move heaven and hell to accomplish it. And nothing Josephine Foley could say or do would stop him.
Ross looked back down at the papers on his desk then stopped when Benedict knocked softly and opened the door.
“You have guests, sir.”
“Guests?”
“Yes, sir. Lady Lindville, and her son, Baron Lindville.”
Ross hesitated. After his confrontation with Lindville yesterday, his first inclination was to have Benedict tell them he was from home. Curiosity finally got the better of him and he placed his pen on the stack of papers he’d
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