Page 76 of A Duchess Mistaken
Agnes shook his head. “I have not. Not yet. I do not yet know how best to tell them.”
“Christopher has figured it out.”
“Well, that must be a relief for him. I know he was not very keen on being married.” She paused, then added, “Caroline has figured it out as well.”
Johnathan raised his brows in surprise. “Has she? That reminds me, there is something I have been meaning to ask you?—”
The rest of his sentence went unsaid because the door opened and his mother walked in. Johnathan shot to his feet, his heart pounding. Agnes was slower to rise but the look on her face spoke of her own fear.
“Mother…” He didn’t know what to say. His words failed him so many times before but he never cursed his inability to think quickly on his feet as he did this time.
Irene looked between the two of them, her expression impassive yet her gaze direct. She took a few steps closer, hands clasped before her.
“Am I interrupting something?” she asked.
“Not at all, Your Grace,” Agnes said quickly, though she seemed far more in control than Johnathan felt. “I had only stopped by to give His Grace the details of the party. Mother asked me to pass it along to him. I was about to take my leave.”
She made haste for the door, but stopped for a brief moment as if she intended to say something else. Whatever it might have been, Agnes clearly thought against it because she simply hurried out the door instead.
An uncomfortable silence settled into the room. Johnathan didn’t know what to do with himself, so he made for thesideboard, throwing over his shoulder, “Would you like a drink, Mother?”
“A glass of sherry would do nicely,” she responded, making for the same sofa Agnes had vacated.
That surprised him. His mother had once been a lover of a nice bottle of port, indulging as much as her position would allow. But that was before everything happened.
He poured her a glass and himself a glass of whiskey he had no intention of touching and made his way over to them. Handing her her sherry, Johnathan sat across from her and tried not to seem too anxious.
“Mother, about what you just saw…”
“She is a lovely girl, isn’t she?” Irene sipped her wine, regarding her son with little expression in her eyes.
Once upon a time, his mother had been the easiest person to read. She wore her every thought on her face and her heart on her sleeve. It made her vulnerable yet so beautifully open that one couldn’t help but love her within minutes of meeting her.
Johnathan couldn’t tell what she was thinking now. He couldn’t tell when it had happened, though he knew it had to be because of the late duke’s death. She had changed so thoroughly but had shut herself away so that no one could witness it.
It felt as if he was sitting before a person he had known a long time ago, a person who was now a stranger. So many memories existed between them and yet it felt as if he no longer knew who she was.
“Yes,” he said at last. “Miss Agnes is a lovely lady.”
“Any man would be lucky to be married to her,” Irene went on.
“I am inclined to agree,” Johnathan responded noncommittally. He couldn’t tell what his mother thought about him being alone with an unmarried woman. Had Agnes been in his arms—or perched on his lap the way he had been fantasizing about—her opinion on the matter would have been obvious. No well-bred lady would ever let such a scandal happen before her eyes without taking the proper action of insisting on a marriage. But since Irene had walked in when they’d only been talking, and sitting across from each other, it may be innocent enough for Irene to ignore it.
He braced himself, waiting for his mother to make the next move. But Irene remained quiet, content it seemed to enjoy her wine.
“Mother,” Johnathan spoke at last. “Is there a reason you came to see me?”
“At first, no,” she answered. “I only wanted to spend some time with you. Even if it would be done in silence.”
“Oh.” Again, he was at a loss for words. He certainly hadn’t expected that.
“But now that I am here, I find my mind filled with so many things I want to tell you. Things I should be saying to both you and Christopher.”
“Do you want me to send for him?” Johnathan asked, already standing to make his way to the bell pull.
“No, don’t,” Irene said quickly. She’d fully drained her glass and set it on the table next to the sofa. “I want to speak with you alone, for now.”
Johnathan slowly lowered to a seat, waiting silently.
