a possibility.”
“How?”
The prince stood up. “Come with me.”
Motioning for his guards to remain where they were, he led the way along a corridor, coming to a halt in front of an oil painting of a woman in her late twenties. Flawless of complexion, as dark of coloring as Lorne himself, her sashed gown and diamond-encrusted crown proclaimed her rank before Lorne said, “My mother, Princess Aimee.” He turned to Garth. “It seems she may have been your mother as well.”
Unable to deny the resemblance they could all see, Garth’s fists clenched. He was fighting himself, she saw. Being related to this lovely, aristocratic woman would make a mockery of the pigheaded reverse snobbery that had ruled his life.
Her pulse jumped. If Lorne was right, Garth had no reason to hold her background against her. Assuming that was really why he had rejected her all those years ago. She felt giddy with possibilities and slightly afraid.
His snarled denial brought her back to earth with a rush. “No way. I know who my mother was.”
“Can you be sure of your facts?” Lorne asked.
“Can you be sure of yours—sir?”
So this was what happened when two alpha males met head-on. They’d squared off in mirror positions of anger and challenge. As if he could no longer tolerate the portrait’s gaze upon him, Garth suddenly spun around and shouldered his way through a set of etched glass doors leading to a walled garden.
When she and Lorne caught up with him he was pacing the length of an ornamental pool. Pebbles crunched under his feet and the glasslike surface of the water reflected his set expression. “This whole notion is crazy, Your Highness,” he snapped.
Lorne’s dark brows lifted. “So you do remember who I am?”
Garth looked unfazed by the implied rebuke. He didn’t seem to care that he had walked out on the monarch, but he sounded more respectful as he said, “Your parentage isn’t in question, sir.”
Lorne nodded in recognition of Garth’s turmoil. “However, yours is.” He clasped a hand to the other man’s shoulder. “Will you at least hear me out?”
At the prince’s touch Garth flinched, but then inclined his head stiffly in agreement. When he lifted it, his gaze settled on Serena as if she was an anchor in a raging sea. She sent him a silent message of support and was gratified when she saw his expression thaw. “I guess anything else would be high treason.”
“First I require your promise of discretion. What I’m about to tell you is known only within the royal family.”
Garth’s response was immediate. “You have it.”
Lorne dragged in a deep breath. “Princess Aimee—then Lady Aimee Sewell—was my grandmother’s principal lady-in-waiting. She was being courted by Roy Keer, a nobleman’s son and former commando who loved her passionately. Unfortunately he possessed a cruel streak that made her afraid of him. She ended their relationship but he refused to accept that it was over between them. Then Crown Prince Eduard came home from the navy, and she had eyes for no other man.”
Garth frowned. “Bet that went down well with Keer.”
Lorne’s expression lightened. “As you say, he took it badly. He walked out on his job in palace security, vowing that no man would have her if he couldn’t.”
Experience made Serena say, “Such a threat could be grounds for arrest.”
“If Aimee had pressed charges. She was so in love with Eduard that she didn’t want their happiness marred by unpleasantness.”
Garth stirred restively. “This is fascinating, but…”
“You don’t see how it concerns you? Does it help to know that her son, Louis, was accidentally conceived during that emotionally charged time?”
Lorne had Garth’s attention now, Serena saw. Pieces were starting to fall into place. All but the most crucial one. “Why didn’t Eduard marry Aimee as soon as they learned she was pregnant?”
“My grandfather, Prince Guillaume, was out of the country and they needed his blessing. When he returned he was angry because he thought they were too young, but he gave his consent because of her condition. They were planning their marriage when Aimee received more threats from Keer. Prince Guillaume had the couple spirited to a royal hideaway until Keer could be apprehended.”
Garth picked up a pebble and skimmed it across the pond’s pristine surface in a smooth action that made her lick annoyingly dry lips at the fluidity of his movements. Where the pebble touched, ripples spread out like the consequences of Lorne’s mother’s actions, Serena fancied.
“A commando-trained security man wouldn’t be stopped that easily,” Garth predicted.
Lorne watched the ripples subside. “Indeed. He eluded the authorities, tracked the young couple down and broke into the royal compound, attacking Aimee before he was apprehended. The shock drove her into early labor, and Louis was born several weeks prematurely. Stillborn, or so she believed. Yet no one from the family saw the child after the birth. Aimee was so distraught that public news of the birth was suppressed to protect her. Her need for seclusion was explained as a consequence of the attack.”
Bad enough to be attacked. Devastating to lose her child as a result, Serena thought. No wonder none of this had been made public. “What happened to Keer?”
“He served a long prison term, earning a further term for killing another prisoner.”
Where was Keer now, she wondered? Still in prison if his track record was any guide. “Surely there was a funeral service, a memorial or something for the baby?” she asked.
Lorne nodded. “There was a private service and a cremation. A rose garden was planted at the estate as a memorial.”
“There’s no conclusive proof that the baby died,” Garth observed. “If the child was stolen, the perpetrators could have arranged for an empty coffin to be cremated.”
He sounded as if he was starting to believe in a living heir, she noticed. He wasn’t the only one. “The baby could have been farmed out to foster parents who may not have known whose child they had adopted,” she surmised, mentally compiling a list of suspects starting with the medical attendants and the staff at the hideaway when the baby was born. If any of them had been connected with Keer, it could make for an interesting trail.
“What makes you think this involves me?” Garth demanded. “My parents didn’t talk much about the past and I have no relatives I can ask, but surely I’d have picked up some hint that something wasn’t right?”
“Your lack of siblings could be a clue in itself.”
She voiced what she guessed Lorne was thinking. “If the Remys desperately wanted a baby and couldn’t have children of their own, they’d have been the ideal couple to approach about an illegal adoption.” She gave Garth an apologetic smile before going on. “I doubt they could have afforded to go through regular channels.”
Garth’s expression hardened. “Unfortunately, you’re right.” His relentless gaze thanked her for pointing it out. She felt his pain but silently begged him to understand that she had to do her job. At the same time she wished she could tell him how much she admired how he was handling this. If she’d had everything she’d ever believed about herself turned upside down, she doubted she could discuss it as dispassionately as Garth was doing.
He’d mastered the art of guarding his feelings at an early age, she recalled. Whether he was taunted about being the oldest boy in school, or didn’t have an answer in class because he’d been working on his parents’ boat when the subject was studied, he’d acted as if he didn’t care. She saw it carved on his face now. Sticks and stones, it proclaimed. Or a core of certainty about who and what he was that no external force could touch.
Lorne