concerned. When I learned she had given birth to a son, I personally stepped into the breach, as it were. Quite a responsibility for a young man, but I think you’ll agree I did well by you.’
Lord Armstrong looked expectantly at him. The man had the audacity to expect praise for his callous and self-serving behaviour! The room was spinning. Christopher gripped the arms of the wooden chair so tightly that his knuckles showed white. This was not some nightmare from which he would awake. His mother was not his mother. His father was not his father. His life, his whole life, had been built on sand. He had no idea who he was.
‘You stepped into the breach?’ Christopher said, struggling to assimilate what he was hearing.
‘Indeed I did. I believe your mother’s family intended to place you in the hands of some wet nurse. Such women cannot be relied upon to give a child the best of care.’ Lord Armstrong gave a short, breathy laugh. ‘Indeed, that is their very attraction in some extreme cases. Fair enough for a daughter, but a son—well, that is a different matter, even if he is from the wrong side of the—that is—aye, well, what I’m trying to say is that I could not acknowledge you, but you are my progeny after all. And so I secured the services of the Fordyces, a steady, childless couple of good reputation, he with a reliable occupation, I thought—’
‘Your thoughts are made very clear in that document,’ Christopher said harshly. ‘The transaction, the terms of payment, the conditions under which ownership of the goods were transferred’
‘You make it sound as if you were a piece of ornamental furniture, my dear boy.’
The term of affection made Christopher grit his teeth. ‘If you consult your bill of sale, you will find that is exactly how you did view me,’ he said. ‘It is also very clear that you considered the matter firmly closed, your duty fully discharged.’
His lordship’s cheeks turned a florid puce. He was clearly not accustomed to having his actions questioned. Christopher snatched up his glass and poured him another brandy. ‘Here, drink this. I have not done with you yet, an apoplexy would be extremely inconvenient at this juncture.’
Lord Armstrong drew him a furious look, but did as he was bid.
‘You said you were young at the time. How young, precisely?’ Christopher demanded.
‘I was barely twenty years old, had not even reached my majority.’
‘Still old enough to understand the consequences of your actions, I would have thought. And your—my—the woman who gave birth to me?’
His lordship straightened his blotter. ‘She was sixteen.’
‘Dear God, did she understand what she was doing? Did she know, as you must have, the risks you were taking? A man of twenty years old, seducing an innocent girl of sixteen and not even willing to give the resulting child your name—it is disgusting!’
‘You must understand...’
‘Oh, I understand perfectly. Both you and my mother’s aristocratic family abused their wealth and privilege. In life, and even in death, my mother’s fate was determined by others. Status confers the freedom to act in an utterly selfish and completely arrogant manner. I have no desire to hear your mealy-mouthed justifications.’
‘Christopher—Mr Fordyce,’ Lord Armstrong amended hastily, ‘your sudden arrival here has come as a great shock to my system. I have not had time to assimilate—you do understand, don’t you, that it is no more possible for me to acknowledge your existence now, than it was then? If it became known that you—dear God, it would ruin me, even more completely than it would have then. My position at the Foreign Office—I have a hard-won reputation for integrity, honesty...’
‘And are even more renowned for your naked self-interest and burning ambition, from what I have been able to establish since discovering the evidence of my unwanted lineage.’
‘So you admit you have enquired about me?’
‘Suffice to know that I want nothing whatsoever to do with you.’
‘You are angry,’ Lord Armstrong said. ‘That is perfectly understandable, in the circumstances.’
Christopher’s toes curled tight inside his boots. There was a rushing in his ears. More than anything, what he wanted to do was to slam his fist into that self-centred, self-satisfied, aristocratic countenance. To blacken both of those eyes, so damned distinctive and undeniably identical to his own. To destroy the evidence, obliterate the memory, and start afresh.
But that would have to wait. The document could not be unread. Violence and destruction were not the solution. ‘I am not angry,’ he said, with a pleasing calm in which only an edge of contempt was audible. ‘And as to the notion that I might wish to be part of your life...’ Now he did let his contempt show fully, in a bitter little laugh. ‘I have my own life, my lord, and I am very content with it. There is absolutely no place in it for you.’
‘Then why did you seek me out? What do you want of me, if not my name?’
The man looked puzzled rather than relieved. His arrogance knew no bounds. ‘Your name!’ Christopher exclaimed contemptuously. ‘The very last thing I would wish to own. As is this.’ Christopher laid the amulet on to the blotter. ‘I take it to be the item of jewellery referred to in the document. The payment for services rendered, though blood money might be a more accurate description.’
Lord Armstrong’s thin brows rose so high that they almost reached his receding hairline. ‘They didn’t sell it? How odd that they kept it all these years. That piece of jewellery was intended to help pay for your education, to provide the Fordyces with the means to raise you as a gentleman.’
‘I am eternally grateful they did not, if being a gentleman is defined as someone who is prepared to sell their own child to avoid social embarrassment. This amulet was payment for their co-operation and silence.’
‘It belonged to your mother. I was a man of modest means back in those days. Her family gave it to me along with some funds to facilitate the arrangements when she died. Don’t you even wish to know her name?’
‘To what end? Even had she lived, her identity would have been kept from me. It is ironic that it was her premature death which ultimately allowed me to be privy to yours.’
‘I did my best by you, as I continue to do for all my children. I have five daughters, sir, who consider me a most dutiful father, acting always with their best interests at heart.’
Provided their best interests coincide with your own, Christopher thought cynically, before the import of the words hit him. Five daughters. Which meant he had five half-sisters, blissfully oblivious to his existence. And who would, if he had anything to do with it, remain so.
‘I hope,’ Lord Armstrong amended fearfully, ‘that my mention of the girls—I would not have them dragged into this.’
‘My illusions have been shattered, do you think I would wish that fate on five innocent girls?’
‘I confess, I am heartily relieved to hear you say that.’
Christopher wanted nothing more than this sordid interview to be over. ‘This,’ he said, indicating the amulet, ‘is Arabic in origin, if I’m not mistaken, and judging from the quality of the stones in it, almost certainly made for the ruling family
