It was one thing making a terrible mistake. It was another entirely to be unable to do anything about it. After Sam discovered that Ivy had left Winterbourne Hall, he had spent a couple of days cursing himself to hell and back for letting her slip away. How could he have been so stupid? So blind to the simple reality. He loved her, and he knew she cared for him. Maybe even loved him. And if she was willing to forego the possibility of a more advantageous match, he should just shut the hell up and take anything he could get. Because he bloody well couldn't live without her.

He'd returned to London a few days later to get his affairs in order. It had been a pleasant surprise to see that his savings were bigger than he'd realised. If Ivy would have him, they could either rent a house in London while he kept working at the agency, or if she preferred, they could rent a house in the countryside. Maybe even in Tilbury if she wanted to be close to her family.

If he swallowed his pride, he might even be able to convince his father to help him purchase a small estate like Mr Edwards had once bought Orchard Cottage. In a surprising twist of fate, his father had actually sent him a letter asking him to come see him. It was the first time in years Viscount Bodine had reached out, and Sam didn't know what to expect. There was no reason for his father to want to see him. He had made it clear years ago that Sam was nothing but a footnote in his life.

But curiosity had won over resentment, so here he was, approaching Bodine House for the first time in years. The last time had not been pleasant for anyone. His father had not taken his injury well and had refused to help. Even a bastard son of his was expected to be perfect, and with half a leg less than a regular man, Sam was no longer good enough in the viscount's eyes to even offer a grain of sympathy. Any support he had received up until that point stopped, and he had been forced to seek employment.

Being back was bittersweet at best, and painful at worst. As he rode through the village near his father's estate, there were so few good memories to remember. Most were of the rude comments from the other children, taunting him about his circumstances. The bastard son. There were a few good memories. Moments with his grandfather, the man who had raised him. Visits to the local bakery or a trip to the lake for a lazy afternoon fishing. It was amazing how different the village felt from Tilbury. Even as a visitor, Tilbury had felt more welcoming than the place he'd spent his formative years.

His sombre mood didn't improve when he reached Bodine House. A stableboy took his horse, and the butler let him into the house. He supposed he should be grateful they didn't make him enter through the servants' wing like when he was a child. After being shown to the reception room, he was left alone to wait for his father to receive him. How long that would take was anyone's guess. He'd once waited three hours before Viscount Bodine had seen fit to meet him.

With a sigh, he sat down on one of the sofas. He just wanted this visit over with so he could continue trying to win Ivy back. An endeavour made all the harder by the fact he seemed unable to find her. Not for lack of trying. He'd returned to Tilbury to be told she was with the Wycliffes to prepare for the upcoming season. Wary of Lord Wycliffe's reaction to his pursuit of Ivy, Sam had swallowed back his apprehension and sought them out at their home in Kent. As expected, Wycliffe had not been pleased to see him, but Ivy was not there. Lady Wycliffe had taken her along to see a friend. That was the extent of Wycliffe's cooperation, and he refused to give Sam the name or location of said friend.

So now he waited. Eventually, Ivy would have to return to either the Wycliffes or Tilbury. Her sister, Lily, had promised to write him if she saw her, and he'd slipped a footman a coin at the Wycliffe estate to notify him if she returned. He'd be damned if he let her go without a fight. Once he realised he wanted her no matter what, he refused to be beaten. Wycliffe might try to hide her from him, but he would find her and he would say his piece. Beg her forgiveness. And hopefully, she would give him a chance.

A footman appeared at the door. "Lord Bodine is ready to see you now. Please follow me."

He was brought to his father's private study at the back of the house. It was where he had mostly seen him. Away from the rest of the family. He'd only met his father's wife twice, and his half-sisters a handful of times. Merrill and Edwina seemed like nice young ladies, but their meetings had been too brief for him to truly know them. They were both several years younger than him as well. He frowned. They must be around the age where they would go to London for the season. In a different world, he could have been the protective older brother, helping them manoeuvre the treacherous world of the ton. But it was not and he was never to properly be in their lives.

His father stood from his seat behind a large wooden desk as Sam entered. The footman bowed before closing the door behind him, leaving Sam alone with the man who had ignored him for most of his life. Viscount Bodine was a tall, lanky man who had obviously never had to put in a day of physical work in his life. His clothes hung a little looser on his frame than Sam remembered, as if he'd lost weight lately, but his face was as severe as ever. High cheekbones and a hooked nose gave him the appearance of a vulture, something which was highlighted even more by the missing pounds.

"Samuel." His father nodded in greeting. No one else called him by his full name.

"My lord." Sam inclined his head. This was so awkward. He had nothing in common with this man. "You sent word that you wished to see me?"

Bodine sat back down, folding his tall frame into the chair. Silence settled between them for a moment as the older man took him in, his blue eyes scanning him. "God, you look so much like your mother."

Uncertain if it was meant as a compliment or insult, Sam stayed quiet. His father had hardly ever mentioned his mother, so this was unusual. The older man appeared more pensive than usual as he leaned back in his chair.

"I loved her, you know."

Sam held back the instant urge to snap at the man. Remind him that he had ruined her reputation by disappearing with her, only to return with her bastard son. The only consolation was that his mother had not been there to hear the gossip.

"Everything would have been so different had she not perished at childbirth." Bodine sighed wistfully but Sam had little compassion. "I had every intention of bringing her back here as my wife, with you as the rightful heir. But then..."

The older man shrugged. As if Sam's mother's death was nothing but a mere inconvenience. Fury surged hotly through every vein in his body. How dare he speak of her with such nonchalance.

"Was there anything you wanted?" he asked, his voice laced with suppressed anger. "Or did you call me here to reminisce?"

"Ah, yes. I did call you here for a reason. Please sit." Bodine motioned to a chair on the other side of the desk, and Sam sat down awkwardly, his body still tense from anger and apprehension. It seemed unlikely his father would have anything good to say.

Viscount Bodine sighed again, resting a little heavier in his chair. "As you might be able to tell, I have not been well lately."

"You do look a little pale." There was a quality to his father's skin that made it seem like he didn't have enough blood in his body to colour his cheeks.

"Yes, the doctor's not sure exactly what is wrong with me, but he is cautioning me to get my affairs in order. As a precaution if nothing else."

Sam sat up straighter, equally shocked by the words as his father's matter-of-fact tone. They might as well have been discussing the weather.

"As you know, my wife has not blessed me with a son to inherit the Bodine title."

Why did the man sound more upset about this than the possibility that he was deathly ill? Sam remained quiet, not sure what he could say.

The older man's blue eyes met his. "Which brings me to you."

"What about me?" Sam frowned. "I'm a bastard and as such I cannot inherit."

Was it just a trick of the light, or did his father's gaze flicker? A sense of foreboding made Sam's neck prickle uneasily.

"Yes," Bodine said slowly, as if he wanted to delay the moment. "See, I have not been entirely honest with you—or anyone—about the circumstances of your birth."

There was a loud whining in Sam's ears, and he shook his head. His heart was racing and anger boiled in his guts. Forcing himself to remain calm, he pushed the words out, "What do you mean?"

Silence stretched out between them as the other man struggled to speak. He flexed his long, thin fingers on the surface of the desk, staring at a spot slightly to the left of Sam's head, as if he was unable to look at him.

"Like I said, I did love your mother," he finally said. "My family did not approve of course. She was the daughter of the gamekeeper and scandal would be assured. But I was young and foolish, so we eloped. For some time we were happy. We rented a small cottage and pretended the world didn't exist. You came along, and unfortunately, she died in childbirth. I was devastated."

"You eloped. Did you actually marry?"

"Yes."

One simple word. It was enough for Sam's world to come crumbling down around him. Everything he had known, had experienced. It was a lie. For a moment, he had the wild urge to laugh outright. This was ridiculous. His own father had kept his legitimacy a secret and allowed him to be taunted by the locals... and for what?

"Why?" Anger was quickly replacing the shock and Sam had to grip the armrests of his chair to keep from rushing out of the room. Or punching the old man who looked like he might break from the mere touch of a leaf. "Why did you tell everyone you never married? You ruined my mother's reputation, and for what? Some misguided pride? And you decided you didn't want a son after all? Make me understand. Or is this all a lie to get the heir you always wanted?"

"Not a lie." His father opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a piece of paper. Sam didn't need to look at it to know what it was. The copy of the registry book entry that would have been handed to his mother upon marriage. All these years, it had been lying in that drawer just waiting for Bodine to decide it was time to make use of it? If his new wife had given him a son, he probably would have burnt it.

"You kept it like an insurance?" Sam shook his head in disgust. "I am worth nothing to you other than as a backup in case you didn't have any other sons."

"What did you expect?" Bodine scoffed. "I was stranded with no wife and a son from the woman my family never wanted me to marry. The gossip that would have resulted in had I returned with my heir - the gamekeeper's grandson."

"You didn't mind the gossip about having the gamekeeper's grandson as your bastard."

"Bastards are expected." His father shrugged. "No one cared much about that. If I had brought you back as my heir though... The rumours would have haunted me forever and I would never have been allowed to forget that I had married below my status."

"But now I'm good enough?" Sam said sarcastically. "Now that you have no other options."

"Enough time has passed that most won't care."

Sam shot to his feet. "I care!" he snapped. "You abandoned me for all these years because I didn't fit your idea of the perfect heir. And now you want me to come back and just accept that you want to recognise me as the heir apparent?"

His father stood too, resting his hands on the desk. "I don't see the issue," he grunted. "I'm offering you a title. An estate. A life far beyond what you could achieve on your own."

"Go to hell! I will not play into your little fantasy. You can take your title and shove it!" Too angry to remain, Sam stormed out of the study. His father could burn for all he cared.

Filled with anger and resentment, Sam didn't know where to go. He had planned to stay with his grandfather, who was still the Head Gameskeeper, but he was far too upset to go there yet. Before he could face his grandfather, he needed some time to clear his head. He wasn't sure how long he was aimlessly riding around the grounds, until he found himself at the edge of a small lake where he used to swim as a boy. Dismounting, he let the horse graze as he sank down under a tree, resting his back against the trunk and raising his face to the skies.

How could his father have kept this secret all these years? It was unfathomable. His life could have been so different, had his father not been a coward who couldn't face the censure of his parents and peers. Now that he was staring potential death in the face, his father was happy to announce Sam's true circumstances. When he was unlikely to have to bear the brunt of anyone's disapproval. It would be Sam who would be left dealing with the consequences.

To think his life had been such a lie. For the first time, he could understand better how Ivy had felt when she found out about her family. Being lied to your whole life was not a pleasant feeling.

A shaggy black dog came running from the treeline by the forest a few yards away. For a moment, Sam thought he had conjured a vision by thinking about Ivy, but then the dog bounded up to him and tried to lick his face. Staring down at the familiar dog, Sam couldn't help but wonder if he was seeing things.

"Darcy?"

~~~~~~

Author's Note: I'm sorry for my irregular posting schedule lately. Life is hectic and I'm having to take the time to write wherever I can. But what do you think of Sam's father's confession? I went back and forth a lot on whether I wanted to include it, but I like Sam and Ivy having these experiences in their lives that are mirror opposites of each other. The village upbringing - but one was good and one was not. The lie about parentage - one who never knew where the child was, and one who wilfully hid it.

Also, I'm sorry about the Let It Go chapter titles LOL I'll stop (maybe not)