Page 77 of An Orphan for the Broken Duke

“Two things, Your Grace.” Mr. Marrow waded into the depths of the drawing room. “Firstly, you should know that Lucy has been put to bed. She was rather tired after the events of today, and she sleeps soundly.”

Rhys found himself smiling at that. “Good. I am glad to hear it. And thank you, Mr. Marrow, for looking after her. I know I ought to, but…” He winced. “These things are for the best.”

“She will come around,” Mr. Marrow said gently. “She is upset today, but you are her father, Your Grace. And she knows it.”

He scoffed. “I am hardly that. Violet was⁠—”

“Her mother,” Mr. Marrow cut over him. “But a girl needs a mother and a father. And where one is absent, the other must rise in her place. I am sure that come tomorrow, Lucy will want you to be with her.”

Rhys sighed with despair and had another sip of brandy. The words were kindly spoken, but he did not believe them.

“You said there were two things.”

Mr. Marrow nodded and then his expression grew determined. “I was not sure if I ought to bring this to your attention, Your Grace. But with Her Grace having left, I believe that I must.”

“What is it?” Rhys noticed the fight raging behind Mr. Marrow’s eyes; as if he was not sure if this was right, but was determined to believe that it must be. “What happened?”

“The day before Her Grace left, she had me…” He clicked his tongue and then nodded firmly. “She was curious about your sister, Your Grace. And more curious still about her child.”

Rhys winced and had a hasty sip of brandy. “And your point?”

“She asked that she be shown everything we had uncovered about the possible whereabouts of the missing child, the orphanages that we visited, and everything that we learned.”

“She did?” he blinked. “Why would she…”

“I cannot say why, Your Grace. What I do know, however, is that she found something that we missed. There was one orphanage, St. Clair’s, that we paid a visit to⁠—”

“And it had burned down, if my memory serves. What of it?”

“We might have had the wrong orphanage, Your Grace.”

Rhys sat up. “What?”

“There were two St. Clair’s,” Mr. Marrow explained. “The mistake was made on account of the address of them both. They were similar, easy to mistake. Also, that was towards the end of our search, by which point…” He winced. “By which point, we believed the child to have died.”

Rhys stared blankly at Mr. Marrow, unable to believe what he was hearing, and unsure how he ought to feel. “And?” he shouted. “What… what did she find?”

“I know that she visited St. Clair’s,” Mr. Marrow said. “As to what she learned, that, I cannot say. She returned late that evening, and she left a few hours later. Likely, nothing was found. But I thought it best that I tell you, nonetheless.”

Rhys remembered clearly the day that he and Mr. Marrow had visited St. Clair’s orphanage. It was done weeks after he had learned of his sister’s death, and it was at a point in his search where he had well and truly given up. So, when they arrived at the orphanage to find it burnt to the ground, he had taken that as a sign.

The weeks that followed were even worse.

Misery had taken Rhys in its clutches and punished him to within an inch of his life. His sister was dead. Her child was likely the same. It was all his fault, and nothing that he did would make a difference.

Oh sure, he had tried. He had started giving money to a local orphanage in the hope that might make him feel better, but the pain persisted, and he always knew that it would never make him feel truly at peace.

In fact, the only time that he had felt anything close to peace was when he adopted Lucy. Not at first, of course. It took a while. But slowly as he saw her find comfort in her new home, as he witnessed her grow and accept her new life, he began to understand what it meant to move on and forgive himself.

He looked into the distance as he considered what Mr. Marrow had told him. If St. Clair’s still stood—the real one—then maybe there was a chance that his sister’s child was alive?

“We could visit it tomorrow?” Mr. Marrow said as if he could read Rhys’ thoughts. “Shall I send word ahead that we mean to visit?”

He almost said yes. Hope started to burn inside of him, that dim possibility that all was not lost. But as he tried to fan those flames, his memories returned to those weeks after he had lost all hope. Did he really want to go through that again? And if he did, could he pull himself out of it?

“No…” Rhys started slowly as his thoughts moved somewhere else. “No, I do not think there is a need.”

“Are you sure, Your Grace?”