Page 26 of Deceiving an Earl
“She didn’t seem to know.”
But Oliver’s mind had wandered from the conversation. He had not yet spoken to Ellen about his visit with Godfrey, and he needed to do so today. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, because things did not look promising for young Philip.
“Oliver, there you are.”
Oliver winced as his mother walked onto the back veranda. Not that he didn’t love his mother, because he did, but one had to be prepared to converse with her. The Dowager Countess of Armbruster was a beautiful woman, who had effortlessly held on to her beauty and grace through her later years. One would be surprised to learn that she was approaching sixty, because she looked to be forty at the very most.
But there was far more to Lady Armbruster than looks. Under that full head of black hair that was just now beginning to gray was a mind as sharp as any man’s in Parliament. One did not simply verbally spar with Lady Armbruster without being prepared.
She was also a scion of Society. Invitations to her balls were sought after and, if one were lucky enough to receive an invitation, one didn’t skip the ball unless you were dead. She was admired by all the other matrons, her style copied, her opinion revered.
Being her offspring was an onerous task at times. Half the time Oliver didn’t know if a woman was interested in him or interested in meeting his mother.
Oliver stood and kissed her offered cheek. “Mother.”
“I feared you would escape without seeing me like you did the last time you were here.” There was no inflection in her voice, no motherly hurt look to accompany her words, but the cut was there just the same.
“My apologies for running off the last time. I was late for a meeting.”
“Hmm.” There was a wealth of meaning in that sound that put Oliver on alert. “Josie, dear, run along so I can speak to your brother.”
“I don’t mind listening,” Josie said, making Oliver roll his eyes and hide his smile. Josie loved to rile their mother, but Nora had tremendous willpower and patience, and she rarely rose to the bait.
All she had to do was give Josie a look and the girl pushed herself up from her chair with a heavy sigh. “I hate when you have to talk to him alone.”
“Off you go. I believe you have some Latin to learn.”
Josie left, mumbling about how she despised Latin. Oliver waited for his mother to get to the point, knowing the wait wouldn’t be long.
It wasn’t.
“I heard you’ve been in the company of Lady Fieldhurst.”
Oliver never knew where his mother received her information. Josie was worried about Oliver being a spy, but Oliver often wondered if their mother ran the biggest spy network in London.
“You have, have you?”
“Don’t be coy, Oliver.”
“I’m not being coy.” He was being evasive. He’d learned a long time ago not to tell his mother anything, or at least as little as possible. Of course, that just led to the vicious cycle of his mother trying to find out information on her own.
“I attended a few of the countess’s salons.”
“You’ve never done that before.”
“I have not.”
She sighed in exasperation. This verbal sparring was the foundation of their relationship, and neither would admit that they both enjoyed it.
“I hear they’re quite bohemian, these salons.”
“They’re not as bad as you think. Just a different sort of people than you’re used to.”
“Actresses and poets.”
“Yes, they are there as well.”
She paused. “I just think it’s interesting that you attended these salons when you had no previous interest in them.”
