Page 101 of Snapdragons
That was true. But would it be enough to overcome what he’d done and the hurt he’d caused his family?
Penelope lightly touched his cheek. “Aldric is entirely correct. While the timing was not what your family wanted, the outcome is precisely what they all wished for.”
“Perhaps rather than begging for forgiveness,” he said, “we should saunter in, bold as brass buttons, and declare that we’ve come to make all their wishes come true.”
The carriage came to a stop. Beyond the windows was his childhood home.
They were met by the expected bevy of servants. The coach door was opened and the step put in place. Everyone inside the carriage alighted in silence. They were ushered as far as the entryway but were then told to wait while the butler took word of their arrival to Niles’s parents.
“Being made to wait does not seem like a good sign, does it?” Niles rolled his neck, working very hard not to simply start pacing.
“It could easily be the fact that you have arrived with so many guests,” Aldric suggested.
“Let’s tell ourselves that.” But Niles felt certain the others were as doubtful about the explanation as he was.
The butler returned. “This way, please.”
Niles desperately wanted to hold Penelope’s hand as they made the trek to the drawing room, but knew he would do best to keep strictly to the expectations of propriety. They needed to give his parents no further reason to think poorly of him.
He stepped over the threshold. How was it a room could be so pleasantly familiar and so uncomfortably uninviting at the same time?
“Lord Aldric Benick,” the butler began his introduction as soon as he stepped inside the drawing room. “Mr. and Mrs. Fortier. Miss Seymour. Mr. Niles Greenberry.”
His parents stood inside, watching their arrival. Unfortunately, Niles could describe them the same way he’d described the room. Achingly familiar. Heartbreakingly uninviting.
Still, he knew what civility required of him in that moment. “Father, Mother, I believe you know everyone in the group other than Mrs. Fortier”—he indicated Nicolette—“who now resides in Suffolk but is originally from France. Mrs. Fortier, this is my father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Greenberry.”
“C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer,” Nicolette said with a curtsy.
“Le plaisir est pour nous,” Father returned with a bow.
Mother was never one to neglect her social obligations, but she did not offer a greeting or welcome of her own. In fact, she was not paying Nicolette the least attention. Mother’s unwavering gaze was on Niles.
His heart dropped. He’d caused his mother pain. That was not something he could ever feel good about.
She moved toward him. Niles held his breath. He would endure whatever castigation she delivered. And somehow, he would find a way to mend all this.
“Niles.” Mother spoke his name quietly, barely louder than a whisper. But he didn’t hear any anger in her tone. She wrapped her arms around him as she’d done so often over the course of his life.
He embraced her in return. “I am sorry for all the difficulties I have caused you these past weeks, Mother.”
“You told me often enough that you dreaded the very idea of an arranged marriage,” she said, holding him tight. “I am your mother; I ought to have listened.”
This was not the reception he’d anticipated. He didn’t quite know what to do.
“And I ought not to have placed you in the position I did,” he said. “I admit I panicked a little.”
She stepped back. “You set off a bit of a panic here as well. The family is divided on this matter: some insist that you were entirely in the wrong, while others have begun to declare that they will follow your lead should your grandparents arrange a marriage for them.”
That was not at all what he had intended. He glanced very briefly at his father, who was offering greetings to the new arrivals. “Where does Father fall on the matter?”
“At the moment, I believe he feels conflicted.”
“That is far better than livid, which is what I had anticipated.”
She patted his arm. “Make no mistake, he is not best pleased with you. But we’ve also spent a lot of time since your defection discussing what we might have done differently, and he has begun to realize, as I have, that as your parents, we should have given more importance to your happiness and less to the demands of tradition.”
“Thank you.” His growing amazement rendered the words a little breathless. He’d expected denouncement but was receiving compassion and embrace instead.
