Beautifully Forgotten (45 page)

There was the slightest gleam of humor in Horace’s eyes. “Arrogance can do that. What is it that you know?”

“Your father slept with Elizabeth on the weekend of Nathaniel and Belinda’s engagement announcement.”

Lucien saw the anger and the pain. He was surprised by the naked response from the older man. “She was a sweet kid and had her whole life ahead of her.” His face hardened. “It’s an outrage that her murder has been unsolved for as long as it has been.”

“But?” Lucien asked.

“All the evidence, however circumstantial, suggested the Grimaldi family was involved. My problem with that angle was motive. Pasquale Grimaldi is a very smart man, but the murder was sloppy. Elizabeth had been strangled, which usually indicates a crime of passion, and the Grimaldis’ style is more a bullet to the brain. Even with all the digging I’ve done, I have never found a link to tie Elizabeth to anyone in the Grimaldi family. It was neat, too neat.”

Lucien read between the lies. “You already suspected your dad.”

“I’ll deny I ever said this, but there have been countless cases that were thrown from the judge’s courtroom, cases that when dug into deeply enough, were tied to the Grimaldis. My gut knew it was him, but I never had the smoking gun. It’s why I’ve been splashing Elizabeth’s name all over the news with the ‘new evidence’ ruse. I’m trying to draw my father out, to make him nervous with the hopes that he’ll slip and give me something to use against him.”

Lucien held the other man’s unwavering stare. “You have the smoking gun now.”

A wicked grin curved Horace’s lips. “And I fully intend to use the very law my father swore to uphold to hang him.”

Lucien stood in the grand entrance hall in the building where Judge Jonathan Carmichael had his office, debating with himself. He had contacted the man’s secretary earlier and knew the judge was just finishing a lunch meeting, and Lucien hoped to catch him on his way back up to his office. He wanted to find out who the hell his parents were, but he hesitated seeking out the older man because, with how he was feeling, he was likely to choke the life from the judge before he ever got what he came for. He was still debating with himself when he heard hushed voices coming from a darkened hallway. He moved closer and, though it was dark, he had no trouble making out the two figures: the judge and the senator.

“She was a goddamn kid.”

The judge hissed, “Lower your damn voice.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t put it together. All those visits Elizabeth made to the house. I thought she was coming to see me, but it was you, wasn’t it?”

The judge held himself to his full height. “You will remember to whom you are speaking. I am not just your father, but I am a goddamn judge. You will respect that and me.”

Lucien watched as Nathaniel moved into his father’s space so that they were eye to eye. “You’ve spent most of my life calling my wife a whore because you couldn’t keep it in your pants and seduced a fucking college freshman. Was the constant reminder that you didn’t actually walk on water the reason you took your failings out on my wife?”

“What the hell do you care? You didn’t love her,” the judge snapped.

“No, but I liked her and I liked Elizabeth. She was a good kid and didn’t deserve—” Lucien watched as Nathaniel ended his point in midsentence and then he walked away as if in a hurry to go. Lucien stepped farther into the shadows as he passed. The judge wouldn’t see it, but Lucien did, the smile that spread over Nathaniel’s face. And Lucien felt a begrudging admiration for Horace and Nathaniel Carmichael at their perfectly executed setup.

H
orace was just finishing the paperwork for his father’s indictment when his secretary buzzed him.

“Your four o’clock is here.”

“Send him in.” Horace stood and walked to the cabinet at the far end of his office and poured himself a Scotch. After his brother’s visit to their father a few weeks ago, the old man had contacted the Grimaldi family, trying to take a hit out on Nathaniel. As bizarre as his father’s actions had been, what was even more disturbing to Horace was that in his gut, he’d known what his father would try to do. Horace had made a deal with Pasquale Grimaldi, the lesser of the two evils, to make the case against his father.

The door opened and he drank the entire contents of his glass before he turned to his visitor.

“Thank you for coming.”

“I’m a little unsure why I was asked here,” Lucien said as he stood near the door, unwilling to come in any farther. He’d been here once already and wasn’t thrilled to find himself here again. DA’s offices made him nervous.

“This is not an official meeting.”

Lucien relaxed a bit, but he still didn’t move farther into the room.

“Will you have a seat?”

“No, I’m good here.”

“Suit yourself. I asked you here because I have some information that I need to share with you.”

Lucien wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. “All right.”

“It’s amazing how many lives were altered because of the weekend of Nathanial’s engagement party. Belinda was only a sophomore in college when she was told she was to marry my brother. Nathaniel’s a good guy, but he’s not husband material. Belinda seemed scared and rebellious. I couldn’t blame her. That same weekend I learned that the woman I wanted to marry wouldn’t have me. It wasn’t that she didn’t love me, but marriage would force her to give up her calling. She’d debated about it for over a year and I really thought I was wearing her down, but she decided that she couldn’t. I was devastated because I loved her—still do.”

He turned to Lucien. “You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all of this. I’ll get to the point. That weekend, Belinda and I shared our pain by sleeping together. It was only one time and we knew it was a mistake as soon as we had. We vowed to never mention it and she went back to college.”

He looked down as if the next words were almost too hard to say. “I didn’t realize there was a child, not until almost three years later. Belinda was getting ready to marry my brother. She couldn’t show up with a child from a brief affair she had with me, and her sister wasn’t prepared to care for a child on her own.”

He looked at Lucien, who was pacing because he was being bombarded with emotions he was unaccustomed to feeling. Lucien knew his voice reflected his internal turmoil when he said, “Go on.”

“I went for the baby because I wanted him. I had a son. I had planned to bring him home and raise him, but then my father learned of him. He went crazy, vowing all kinds of retribution, and I knew even then that he was capable of anything. So I took my son to the one place where I knew he would be loved, where I trusted the one who would be looking out for him. I took him to the one person who would love him as if he were her own, the woman who couldn’t marry me because she had a calling to care for children.”

An ache in his throat nearly made speech impossible, but Lucien managed in barely a whisper, “Sister Anne.”

“Yes.”

He needed to move, needed to focus on something, because he wasn’t sure what he was feeling right now. Sister Anne had been in love with Horace Carmichael. Horace was his father . . . he stopped moving and looked back at Horace. “I’m a Carmichael.”

“Yes.”

And then another thought made him almost laugh at the irony. “Dane’s my fucking half brother.”

“It was my father who sent that man to your girl all those years ago. It was his way of being spiteful over a situation he couldn’t control. His motive was to hurt me because my son would be a constant reminder that he, the judge, was no better than the people he put away. It was why he was so intolerant of Dane. He didn’t care who he hurt in the process and unfortunately you and Darcy were collateral damage. He’s been arrested and he’ll pay for what he did to Elizabeth and you.”

“Do you think he also planned the kidnapping of my son?”

“What?” Horace took on a look that Lucien recognized because he’d seen it a few times in the mirror. The man was livid. “What are you talking about?”

“Darcy was pregnant. She was told her baby died, but she later learned that her mother had been paid to lie to her.”

“How the hell didn’t I know this?” Horace said to himself as he paced his office. “I would like to say no, but I’m coming to learn I don’t really know my father. Where’s your son now?”

“He’s been under our noses all along. We’re meeting him soon.”

His expression softened. “I’m happy to hear that. I’d like to sit with you to document everything you have on the kidnapping and I’ll get a team looking into it. If the judge did have a hand in it, it’ll be one more nail in that bastard’s coffin.”

Lucien pushed his hands into his pockets. “Thank you.”

“For what it’s worth, we’re family.”

“Now I know why the judge was constantly getting in my face,” Lucien said.

“I’m afraid so.”

“You’ve been watching out for me, haven’t you?”

“How could I not?”

“And you recruited Sister Margaret?”

“Actually, that was all Anne. She loved you like a son, despite my betrayal. You see, I didn’t initially tell her who you were because I thought I was protecting you, but it didn’t take her long to know you were mine. She worried about you because of your connection to my family. She trusted Sister Margaret and she asked the old bird to look out for you when she was gone.”

“Sister Anne was like a mother to me.” Lucien looked down for a moment because he felt that tightening in his chest again. “If you had to leave your son”—he looked back up at Horace—“you left him with the best person you could have.”

“It should have been me raising you, but at least you were loved as a child should be loved.”

Though he was way out of his depth, a slight smile touched Lucien’s lips. He hadn’t been forgotten after all. “I don’t know how to be a son, but I’m willing to give it a try.”

Tears shone in Horace’s eyes when he said, “And that’s all I can ask.”

“But I’m not changing my name from Black.”

“I would have fought you if you had tried.”

“Did you give Sister Anne a locket?”

Pain turned Horace’s voice hoarse. “Yes.”

“And love letters?”

“She kept them?”

“Yes, I have them if you would like them.”

There were tears in his eyes when he said, “I would, very much.”

“You’re a Carmichael,” Darcy said as she lay next to Lucien that night.

“No, I’m a Black.” He pressed a kiss on her head. “I’ll always be a Black.”

“Black’s a good last name. I like that last name,” Darcy said, but her eyes avoided his, as if she were nervous, which was so not Darcy. Lucien grinned.

“Well, Darcy MacBride, what are you hinting at?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you looking to change your last name?”

“What?” she blushed, which only made his grin turn into a smile. He sat up and turned to her. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

The teasing in his voice made Darcy look over at him. To hide the fact that she was feeling a bit off balance, she hit him in the chest. “No.”

“Really? Because it kind of sounds like you are fishing for a proposal.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Oh well. All right, then.” He lowered himself back onto the bed and put his hands behind his head as if he didn’t have a thought in his mind.