Successio by Alison Morton Read Free Book Online Page A

family. Not very good you having a human rights abusing traitor as your stepfather, was it? Or a slippery politician like the uncle who brought you up.
    That posh wife of yours won’t like me popping up, so I think we need to come to some arrangement. You wouldn’t want me turning up at your ex-girlfriend’s palace, or telling my story to your daily rag, would you?
    You owe me and I’m going to collect.
    Nicola.
    I found it as crude and tasteless as when I first read it in London. Andrew Brudgland’s report identified her as likely to be Nicola Hargreve, born twenty-four years ago in Darlington Memorial Hospital. Finger print data were not as strong as Andrew would have liked, but he was eighty-five per cent confident. Why had she been finger-printed? I thought they were pretty tough on destroying them after a specified time in the UK. So why were hers still on record?
    With dark blond hair, shifting copper-brown and green eyes and strong, sculpted lines to his face, Conrad was an attractive man. When he smiled, he was devastating. I’d met him when he was thirty-two, in his prime. It wasn’t merely his face, his athletic body or his fascinating cat-like walk. It was his plentiful charm. At twenty-one, in an English army town full of young soldiers, he would have been the hottest thing in pants.
    ‘She says she’s my daughter, mine and Janice’s.’ His shoulders slumped and he brought his hands up to support his head. ‘Mars help me if I’ve abandoned a child of mine.’
    After a few moments, he stood up, catching the end of his knife and fork which clattered on to the table; the sound echoed through the room.
    ‘I’ll talk to Uncle Quintus. Perhaps he’ll have some ideas how to deal with this. And he’s the head of my family.’
    Quintus Tellus, who’d retired as Imperial Chancellor a few years ago, would no doubt have all kinds of clever advice, but I was unnerved to see Conrad at such a loss. Not a trace of his famous detached decisiveness; his mind was like a bowl of puls porridge. And this reverting to his previous family. My instinct would be to pay this Nicola a little visit and scare the crap out of her. Unfortunately, the letter had bitten straight into Conrad’s Achilles’ heel.
    What made him such a good father was his determination that none of his children would want for love or care. It was an obsession that reached back into his own ruined childhood.
    ‘Of course, we’ll consult Uncle Quintus,’ I said, ‘but we’ll handle this together. Between us, we can see off this little blackmailer. She’s probably only bluffing.’ I smiled at him and reached out my hand.
    But he kept his own back and looked down at his dirty plate.
    ‘I know that after we met, I was a coward not to tell you about my children with Silvia,’ he said, his voice only just above a whisper. ‘Or about Silvia herself, but I was shit-scared of losing you.’
    It had been a bitter time when I’d discovered the truth in the most humiliating way possible. We’d parted for nearly a year, each nursing a deep hurt. It was only after hunting down the killer who was after me that we’d been reconciled. It was simple – we’d found we couldn’t live apart. A cliché, sure, but that’s what clichés were – common occurrences. But it hadn’t been a smooth run in anybody’s language.
    ‘But this, this…’ He failed to find the words.
    ‘Little accident?’
    ‘Don’t be facetious’ He looked as angry as all Hades.
    ‘Sorry. That was insensitive.’ I waved my hand at him and stifled my irritation.
    ‘I swear I didn’t know about this.’

IV
    The gods knew what Conrad discussed with his uncle the next day, but he didn’t, or wouldn’t, tell me anything when we met in his office in the afternoon. I decided to pay a call on Quintus Tellus myself.
    Domus Tellarum was even older than ours, some parts dating back over a thousand years. Not so tall and less pristine than Domus Mitelarum, it exuded a shabby charm.