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Aral read his father's letter again. If it had not lain in the family vault along with all the papers intended for the new Count Vorkosigan, Aral would have thought it was a joke. But his father was not given to joking. Rather, precisely this sort of decision was entirely in the spirit of Count Piotr Vorkosigan.
He ran his eyes over the letter once more. The caustic phrases his father had for him were like a slap in the face. Yes, he had known his father was angry that Aral had married so late. Yes, he had known that his father was angry at how Miles was born — and that Miles had been born at all. But that his father had been trying to fix this? And him being nearly seventy-five years old at the time.
Aral tried to imagine how Cordelia would react to this situation, and smiled — Betan pragmatism wasn't such a bad thing. But he still needed to show the letter to his wife. His father had hoped to extend the Vorkosigan line, but was afraid to make a mistake with a Vor lady, and a healthy bastard from a hill woman could be perfectly arranged. A girl was born, which was bad luck. Therefore the count chose not to recognize the child, just sent along money for her keep each year. Now he was asking his son "to take care of Barbara, but not to disclose his secret." And Barbara was only six months younger than Miles. And she was Miles' aunt.
Barbara came to the very end of the funeral — news of it had reached the village at once. She had his father's eyes. And his facial features, too. Yes, and Aral sensed something familiar in the way she gestured. But Barbara did not have his father's confidence. She blushed shyly at every word directed her way, hiding behind her hill man husband, who wanted to leave Vorkosigan Surleau soon, as soon as he had shown his respect for the ashes "of his lord" and "for the new count", on behalf of the entire population.
And Aral decided that changing her life would be too late at this point. His father had already decided everything. As always.
