Page 19 of The Seductive Love of a Lady
‘Remember, I warned you,’ he said through the side of his mouth, before facing the servant who had opened the door.
‘Good morning, Master Drew.’
A stiff-lipped smiled acknowledged the welcome. ‘Is the Marquis at home, Mr Potts, and my lady mother?’
She remembered Andrew saying it was the servants who had shortened his name.
‘Indeed. Shall I ask if you may be received?’
Mary just managed to stop her jaw dropping.Why would he need to ask for their permission?
‘That would be the point of me standing here. Please tell the Marchioness, I am here because my wife would like to be introduced.’
‘Your wife. Forgive me.’ He bowed towards Mary. ‘Lady Framlington.’ Then he said to Andrew, ‘Please wait, I will ask if it is convenient.’
The muscles in Andrew’s cheek twitched as the man walked away and climbed the stairs to the family rooms, leaving them standing in the hall.
Being left in the hall was not odd to him. Nor was it a surprise that the servant had no knowledge of their marriage.That meant if his parents had seen the announcement, they had not discussed it in the house. Servants heard everything.
They stood in silence for five minutes or more before Mr Potts returned.
‘The Marchioness will see you.’
They were escorted upstairs to a drawing room, and en route, Andrew established his roguish look of nonchalance.
She could see through this front now – he hid how much he did care behind that swagger.
She would have taken his hand but he held it away from her, over his midriff, giving her the impression he did not want to be touched. He was utterly insular, just as he had been yesterday at John’s and during their carriage ride back to London after they’d eloped. Then, as they followed the servant to an open door, she saw his eyes harden with his devil-may-care expression. That look always came before an argument.
‘You owe me for this,’ Andrew whispered as the servant entered the room ahead of them.
‘Lord and Lady Framlington, my lord,’ the butler intoned.
‘Yes, yes, bring him in,’ an impatient woman’s voice answered.
Andrew led the way, a pace ahead of Mary.
An older woman with a generous, curvaceous figure, who she presumed to be his mother, sat in a chair near the hearth. She wore a vivid emerald, taffeta morning dress and a matching turban. A stately gentleman with a large, crooked nose sat opposite her, reading a newspaper. Andrew’s father, she assumed, although there was no resemblance, either in his face or his build. A tall, slender gentleman, who did have a similar nose to the Marquis, sat on a sofa beside a woman, who was reading a book. Mary noted the wedding ring on her finger. Two younger men lounged in other chairs, sitting sideways, their legs hooked over the arms.
None of them stood to greet her. The men who lounged did not even sit up straight. And none of them acknowledged Andrew.
‘Sir.’ Andrew bowed even though his father did not look up. ‘Mother.’ He bowed again. ‘I have brought my wife to be introduced to you, at her wish. She did not want to be embarrassed by not knowing you in a public meeting.’
‘Potts told us your reason for being here, get on with it,’ Andrew’s mother said.
Andrew glanced at her, his eyebrows rising. ‘Mary, allow me to introduce you to Lord Framlington, the Marquis of Philkins.’
His father looked up, his expression saying he thought Andrew was something abhorrent. He glanced at Mary without comment, then looked back down at the newspaper.
Andrew’s Adam’s apple slid down and up as he swallowed, it was a nervous gesture.
‘And my mother, Lady Framlington.’ He looked at his mother.
Mary dropped a deep curtsy, ignoring their lack of interest.
If this was her family, Andrew would have made some silly quip, but he merely progressed. ‘My eldest brother, the Earl of Alder, and his wife.’ Again, they ignored her as Mary curtsied. ‘And my brothers, Lord Jack and Lord Mark.’ Mary bobbed a less eloquent curtsy as they stared rudely, still not sitting upright.
The Marquis cleared his throat. ‘I cannot see why you have brought this woman here. She is naught to do with me, is she.’
