Page 54 of The Lady Was Lying
“I appreciate your support, and if there is anything you can do, I will certainly come to you. For now, I believe the wisest course of action is to keep my burgeoning feelings to myself and rely on frequent proximity to ease her into a courtship.”
His mother’s nose wrinkled. “What if she doesn’t recognize your interest?”
“She recognizes it.” He was nearly certain. “The trick is going to be getting her to accept it.”
“If anyone can manage it, you can.”
His mother’s faith in him was encouraging, even if it might be misplaced. He couldn’t help but feel as if, the more support he had, the better his chances of succeeding.
Chapter Eleven
Belinda stopped short in the doorway, not wanting to enter but unable to walk away. The woman perched on the settee had not changed since they’d last seen each other. As lovely as ever, she was draped in yellow silk and lace, her golden hair expertly styled to emphasize her doe eyes and high cheekbones. She was the definition of beauty and sophistication, and Belinda couldn’t help admiring her any more than she could help hating her.
It was bad luck that she was the only one home to receive the former Countess of Greydon, the current Mrs. Lancaster, and most significantly, her mother. The rest of the family had just left for a garden party, and after all the socializing she had been doing, Belinda had decided to remain at home so she could enjoy the peace and quiet.
Regrettably, her mother’s presence assured she’d experience neither.
Gliding into the sitting room on silent feet, she approached swiftly, her voice lacking warmth when she said, “Mother.”
“Vivienne,” her mother corrected before gracefully rising to her feet, taking Belinda’s hands, and brushing a kiss over both of Belinda’s cheeks. It was the exact same greeting she would offer a complete stranger, and Belinda couldn’t help wishing she could view her mother with the same level of detachment that her mother viewed her.
“Mother,” Belinda repeated. “Whatever are you doing here?”
Sinking back onto the settee, her mother smiled faintly. “Charles has business in London, and I had a free afternoon, so I decided to call. It’s been an age since I stopped by.”
Years. It had been years.
“Does Sebastian know you are in town?”
“I couldn’t say.” She shrugged elegantly. “Charles may have informed him of our plans to travel to London, but I certainly didn’t. I haven’t heard from your brother lately. It seems that he’s too busy to correspond with his mother.”
Belinda gritted her teeth. Nothing had changed in the years her mother had been gone. She and her siblings remained nothing but an afterthought, and yet their mother still wanted their attention when it suited her. “You should return with Charles when the rest of the family is home. I’m sure they would like to see you.” It was a bit of a lie. They probably wouldn’t be any more excited about their mother’s impromptu visit than Belinda was, but being forced to socialize would be far less awkward if her siblings were around to soften the blow.
“Perhaps I will visit again,” her mother responded, patting the space next to her on the settee. “Won’t you join me? I’d love to chat a bit.”
Belinda frowned, annoyed that her mother seemed to view their separation as a mutual decision rather than the abandonment it had been. Early one morning, not long after Sebastian married Emmeline, their mother had departed Greydon Hall to marry Charles Lancaster with very little fanfare, and Belinda hadn’t heard directly from her since. The parting had been uneventful, but the subsequent years had not, and her mother had not shown the least interest in Belinda or her well-being.
“I’m afraid I’m quite busy today,” Belinda said, staying on her feet.
Laughter filled the space between them.
“Nonsense. What do you have to do?” More laughter spilled from her mother’s lips. “You have ample time to join me for tea.” She patted the spot on the settee again. “As I understand, you still lack a husband. It’s as if I taught you nothing about ensnaring a man.”
“You taught me plenty.” Belinda scoffed and then mimicked her mother’s languorous tone. “‘Marry a man who makes your blood boil. Who makes you forget your own name. Don’t settle for anything less than worship.’”
“It is sound advice. I can’t think why you won’t take it.” After a beat of silence, her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Was that…mockery?”
“Of course not,” Belinda lied, her hands finding her hips. “For years, I’ve followed your advice to the letter.”
“But you have not yet married.”
“Hmm.” Belinda tapped her chin. “I wonder why?”
“I’m afraid I’m not following whatever you’re trying to insinuate. You could have any man you desire. You’re even more stunning today than you were when I last saw you. You’ve settled into womanhood and have become temptation personified. I refuse to believe you have a difficult time attracting a man.” She smiled wickedly. “Or ten.”
Beauty did not bequeath passion.
Belinda tried to explain. “I kissed a man in a bookshop the day after Jane’s debut. He invited me to join him in a more private place, but I declined and left him there, aching and wanting.”
