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He hesitated. “No. His second cousin has inherited his title.”

Disappointment filled Grace’s chest. She had no family, after all. Warm fingers pressed to her chin as Ford compelled her to look at him as if saying, you’re wrong, I am your family now.

She smiled. “At least, now I know.” There was a chance she was wrong. She might have misremembered the crest. But the wolf in the middle of the crest, scowling at her, was exactly the one she’d remembered.

“He had a close friend, and his niece is welcoming mourners in the Wolverstone home,” he said. “Perhaps you want to learn about him from the people who knew him.”

Grace huffed a breath. “Will they let a harlot in?”

Ford nodded. “They will. I’ve already made sure we’d be welcomed.”

She started. “You didn’t tell them that I—”

“No, of course not. I told Blake that I wanted to visit with you, and he made the arrangements.”

“Then yes.” Grace nodded. “I want to go.”

Chapter 28

They arrived at the lavish house, which Grace could not have imagined in her wildest dreams. Even compared to the poor late Porter’s house, this place was a palace.

It was the late Duke of Wolverstone’s home. No, this was the Duke of Wolverstone’s home—the owner had changed, but the title remained the same.

She couldn’t believe this was where her father had resided all this time while she was living in squalor. Resentment curled up in her stomach.

He didn’t know, she reasoned. At least, it was likely that he didn’t.

The Duchess of Kensington, a red-haired beauty, wearing all black colors, greeted them in a drawing room twice the size of Grace’s entire home.

The duchess welcomed them inside and poured them tea as though they were her equals. “How did you know the duke?” she asked.

“I didn’t,” Grace said honestly. Then came the lie. “He showed me kindness once when I was little. That’s all.”

The duchess’s eyes misted over. “He was a very kind man. Very generous.”

A boulder settled in Grace’s throat. He was generous, wasn’t he? When living under his protection, she had had everything she wished for… except for his presence and affection.

“Yes,” Graces rasped and took a sip of tea to moisten her dry throat.

Ford took Grace’s hand and squeezed a silent reassurance.

“Can you tell me more about him?” Grace asked. “You must have been close.”

The duchess swallowed, her fingers tightening on the fabric of her skirt. “He was like an uncle to me. After my parents passed, he was a constant presence in my life. And then when my uncle passed, he stepped in and filled that role for me.”

He was like an uncle to me, said the stranger.

Yet, he was a stranger to his own daughter.

“Did he…” Grace stumbled over her words. “Did he ever have a family? A woman he loved, perhaps?”

The duchess seemed to contemplate it for a moment, then shook her head. “He was a life-long bachelor.”

“So, he didn’t speak of anyone to you? A mistress?”

The duchess seemed surprised by the question, but she seriously considered it. “I don’t believe so. At least, he never told me anything like that, not that he would.”

“If he loved someone, I am certain he would have,” Grace said, hiding disappointment from her tone.