Page 10 of The Pleasures of Passion
“I agree,” Brilliana said. “But, sadly, I can’t yet afford one. Besides, the more I learn, the more I can teach Silas when he’s older. Camden Hall will be his one day, after all.”
“Ah, yes,” Lord Fulkham said. “I forgot you have a son. How old is he now?”
“Sixteen months. I’m hopeful that by the time he’s old enough to assume responsibility for it, the estate will be self-sufficient.”
Clarissa’s husband, Lord Blakeborough, smiled broadly at Brilliana. “An admirable aim. I have some books I can loan you.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” How nice to have at least one man here who didn’t assess her just by her appearance.
“And I’m always happy to answer your questions, too,” he added. “Ask me whatever you wish.”
“Or better yet,” Lord Fulkham said with a veiled glance, “you should ask Margrave once he arrives. I daresay he knows plenty on the subject of estate management, since he’s spent most of the past month trying to get his own property in order.”
Brilliana’s heart dropped into her stomach. Niall was coming here. For dinner. Oh, Lord. The least Clarissa could have done was give her some warning.
Fixing her with a hard look, Brilliana said, “I assumed that your brother was still at Margrave Manor in the country.”
Clarissa’s smile was suspiciously bright. “Oh, didn’t I mention that he came to town yesterday? He and Mother are probably on their way now. Mother tends to be late to everything, you know.”
Aunt Agatha, Brilliana’s aunt by marriage, said, “I’m afraid I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting your mother.”
Lord Blakeborough chuckled. “It’s not so much a pleasure as an experience. The dowager is a cross between a whirlwind and a lunatic.”
Clarissa tapped his arm with her fan. “I can’t believe you’re calling my mother a lunatic!” She shot Aunt Agatha a furtive glance. “You’ll give Lady Pensworth the wrong impression, after I invited her expressly to meet Mama. I thought they’d enjoy each other’s company.”
“Why, because we’re both old widows?” Aunt Agatha asked tartly.
But Clarissa wasn’t flustered one bit. “Because you both have a wealth of knowledge about the inner workings of society. We younger ladies can benefit from your advice.”
That seemed to mollify Aunt Agatha. “Well then. I am always happy to counsel young ladies. Especially ones who appreciate the value of age and experience.”
Astonishing. No one else parried Aunt Agatha’s jabs so effectively. But then, Clarissa had a wonderfully deft hand for managing people. Which made Brilliana even more curious to meet her mother.
Niall’smother. It dawned on Brilliana that she was about to meet the very woman he’d resisted introducing to her years ago.
Back then she’d resented that, but hadn’t entirely blamed him for his caution. Of course, that was before she’d heardwhyhe had dueled—because of some woman rumored to be his paramour. He and Mr. Whiting, known to be a notorious seducer, had apparently fought over this other woman’s affections.
No wonder the wretch had refused to tell her the reason for the duel. He’d known she would then see him for the lying, cheating scoundrel he was. The whole time he’d been courting her secretly by day, he’d been bedding some light-skirt by night.
Not that anyone had told her about it directly, since young ladies weren’t supposed to know that such women existed. She was lucky she’d managed to hear the gossip about the duel itself, and had it confirmed as true.
She had Niall’s father to thank forthat. The late Lord Margrave, whom she’d turned to briefly after Niall’s exile, had made it quite clear what sort of fellow his son was. She could only imagine what would have happened to her if she’d fled with Niall to Spain—a steady descent into ruin and degradation. At least she’d been spared that.
Just then the footman announced the arrival of Lord Margrave and the dowager Lady Margrave. Fortunately Brilliana was standing in the corner when they entered, giving her a chance to observe them without being seen.
This time she wouldn’t be taken by surprise, as she’d been two weeks ago, when she’d seen Niall for the first time in seven years and had behaved like a blithering idiot, blushing and stammering.
No, she would be cool and collected, as if there were naught between them but their family connections. And she would be the same with his mother.
But Lady Margrave, a bubbly older woman with bright eyes, wasn’t quite the dragon lady Brilliana had expected. And Niall . . .
He looked so delicious, making her fingers fairly itch for her sketchbook. His time abroad had cut away the boyishness from his features, leaving the strong cheekbones and firm jaw of a man in his prime. And Spain’s hot sun had streaked his cedar-brown hair a wonderful gold and bronze, complemented by his smart tailcoat of chocolate superfine with gilt buttons.
“Sorry we’re late,” Niall said to Clarissa. “You know Mother. The wordpunctualisn’t in her lexicon.”
“Oh, pish-posh.” His mother greeted her daughter with a kiss on the cheek. “Punctuality is for the dull. Just look at your sister; she’s never on time anywhere. And she’s always the liveliest one at every party.”
“True,” Lord Blakeborough said with obvious affection.
