Page 13 of Her Notorious Rake
When he returned to the sitting room later that afternoon, he found Mother sitting in there already. Another surprise. He had been shaken by the sight of her at breakfast the other day. Perhaps her doctor’s tonic really did have the magic touch.
She sprang to her feet upon his entrance, darting over to him and grasping his arm. “My boy, may I ask something of you?”
His chest tightened apprehensively. “But of course, my dear Mother.” He pecked a kiss to her cheek, and she frowned.
“I miss when you called me Mama,” she sighed, and Dalton couldn’t help but exhale a small laugh.
“Mama,” he corrected himself, and she beamed approvingly.
“You might be otherwise engaged. But if you are not, I should be delighted if you were to accompany me to the Venetian breakfast tomorrow.”
Dalton stared. He couldn’t recall the last time his mother had expressed any desire to attend a social event, much less a Venetian breakfast, which could be tiresome events that lasted the majority of the day.
“But Mother, are you certain? I would not wish for you to tax yourself.”
Mother waved her hand. “I beg you to not fret over my constitution, my dear. It is high time I endeavour to leave the walls of this home, see old friends and acquaintances. Now, you have yet to answer my inquiry.” She cupped his cheek in her small, cold hand.
“But—but of course, Mother. I would love to accompany you.”
“Wonderful,” Mother’s eyes danced. She held up a finger. “And no forgetting. I know you hardly have a chance for repose as of late, but perhaps this would afford you some leisure. You look weary, my dear.”
Dalton tried to laugh. “It is somewhat trying to attempt tomanage Father’s estates while at the same time keeping up with this season’s madness.”
“Well, I must say that you manage splendidly.”
Dalton kissed his mother’s cheek again, just as Uncle Ernest and his distant cousin Celeste sashayed through the drawing room doors.
“Has your mother, by chance, mentioned a Venetian breakfast?” Ernest wondered aloud, stroking his chin. Dalton nearly rolled his eyes.
“As a matter of fact, she did. It would seem that Mother would like to attend one tomorrow.”
“I must say, my dear Adelaide. It is a pleasure to see you in such improved spirits,” declared Uncle Ernest.
Celeste nodded, her blue eyes bright and sincere. Dalton ignored the prick of guilt for abandoning her the other night.
“And we have just returned with four tickets to the opera. A performance of the ‘Marriage of Figaro.’ That will make a delightful family outing.”
“One of my favourites,” Mother sighed, clasping her hands together in girlish excitement. “Come Celeste, let us find something for you to wear that night.”
Celeste ducked her head, smiling shyly, and the two women left Uncle Ernest and Dalton to themselves.
“Well I daresay we ought to rejoice for this brief, but cherished, renewal of your mother’s spirits.”
“I ought to depart. Meeting my friend, Lord Longworth.”
“I pray we shall eventually become friends. After all, we are family,” Uncle Ernest’s words stopped Dalton in his tracks.
He flashed his uncle a cold smile. “Indeed we are. A pity,” he muttered, before continuing out into the hall, and then out the front door.
Chapter 6
The knots in Gemma’s stomach loosened when she caught sight of Prudence in the crowd. She and Aunt Philippa had just arrived at the Venetian Breakfast, held in the home of a prestigious family of the Ton. Many of the men present were holed up in the Billiard rooms, gambling and playing billiards, and Gemma’s mouth fell open at the sight of all the food, piles of it covering the tables. Women in colorful gowns flitted about, and soft music played throughout the house. She and Prudence clasped hands, and Gemma’s heart lifted. She’d been down since yesterday, her homesickness reaching a terrible crescendo.
But upon seeing her new friend, and chatting with her about books, the delectable flavors of the feast spreading across her tongue, Gemma’s mood began to turn.
The room fell silent just as Prudence began to tell her about a new, popular novel about a pirate and his passionate bride.
Around them, people began to whisper, and Gemma heard the wordBlakemorebandied in an undertone. Some spoke with a lift of excitement, while others with a hint of derision. It would seem that Blakemore was well known about the Ton. She even heard someone hiss,“Rake!”
