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took a step towards the landau.
    The older lady gestured towards Alasdair as though she’d seen a ghost. “You are contemptible, Lady Hannah.”
    “Contemptible?” Hannah echoed, stopping in her tracks.
    Lady Astwick sat up straighter as though it might help her regain her composure. “I grew up beside Peyton boys. I married a Peyton man. And I bore him three Peyton sons.”
    Hannah’s breath rushed out of her as she realized what the marchioness was actually saying in her rant. But Lady Astwick couldn’t possibly know. No one did.
    “I know a Peyton when I see one,” the marchioness continued in a horrified whisper. “How dare you?”
    Hannah thought she might faint, but Caroline caught her elbow as though to steady her. “What is she talking about?”
    But Hannah couldn’t speak. Her mouth moved but no words came out. All she could do was shake her head.
    Lady Astwick pounded her cane on the floor of her landau once more. “Take me to Astwick House this instant.”
    “No!” Hannah choked out, finally finding her voice. “Please wait.”
    The marchioness glared at her with eyes more icy than a Highland winter. “Quick as you can, Turner.”
    “Of course, my lady,” the driver replied before loosening his grip on the reins. Then they were off, barreling towards the Park Lane entrance as though the devil himself was chasing after them.
    “Mama.” Ewan tugged on Hannah’s dress. “Ye look ill.”
    She was ill. She was most definitely ill. Hannah squeezed Caroline’s hand. “Ye have ta stop her.”
    “Stop her?” Caroline looked from the rapidly departing landau back to Hannah. “I hardly think I could catch her. What was all of that about, Hannah?”
    “He’ll hate me.”
    “Who will hate you? Chet?”
    Chet. Alasdair. James. Malcolm. Everyone.
    Caroline gestured her oldest daughter forward. “Rachel, gather everyone up, will you? Then all of you head back to Carteret House.”
    “Where are you going?” the girl asked.
    “We’ll be along shorty. Lady Hannah looks faint.”
    “Mama?” Ewan tugged even harder on Hannah’s skirt.
    Hannah smoothed a hand along her youngest son’s cheek. “I’ll be fine, Ewan. Just a little lightheaded. Hold Alasdair’s hand and listen ta Miss Rachel.”
    As soon as the gaggle of children departed for the park entrance, Caroline led Hannah to a bench. “Sit,” she ordered quietly. “And tell me what is going on.”
    But Hannah couldn’t utter the words. Not aloud. Not to anyone. Malcolm had known, of course. She’d told him the truth before they’d married. And James, well, James had known as well. But she couldn’t tell anyone else. The truth was just too awful. Still, she did sit as she truly was lightheaded and feared she might collapse in the middle of the park.
    “Hannah,” Caroline urged. “I can’t help if you won’t tell me what’s the matter.”
    Havers ! Lady Astwick was on her way to tell Chet right now. And then what?
    “All it took was her lookin’ at him and she kent,” Hannah whispered in horror. From the beginning she’d seen Alasdair’s resemblance to Chet, but she’d never thought someone else would recognize the truth so easily or so quickly. Blast it all. She should have insisted that she and the boys go to stay in the country, despite James’ protestations.
    “Knew what?” Caroline pressed.
    Hannah met her friend’s eyes. “I’ve never confessed this ta anyone save Malcolm.”
    “Confessed?” Caroline echoed.
    “Ye’ll think me a wanton.” She dropped her eyes back to her lap. “But I suppose I was then.” Still she couldn’t say the words aloud. She just couldn’t.
    “Alasdair is Chet’s son,” Caroline muttered so softly, Hannah barely heard her.
    A sob escaped her throat. Was it so easy for everyone to figure out? If so, how would Alasdair live down the stigma?
    “They do resemble each other, now that I think about it.” Caroline squeezed Hannah’s hand. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
    Hannah