Page 19 of A Lady's Beastly Duke
“I think so,” Mama murmured. “I didn’t add that Giles is with her.”
“Oh. Cousin Giles.” Sidney raised a brow. “How does he fare?” He had been vaguely worried about Giles all day, ever since the ball the previous evening. At least, it seemed, he had returned home without mishap.
“I don’t know,” Mama answered.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, followed by the appearance of Mr. Moreton, the butler, and by Aunt Harriet, Papa’s sister, and Cousin Giles.
“Your Graces,” the butler greeted them formally; almost apologetically. “Lady Camberwell is here, and her son, Lord Giles.” He inclined his head politely.
Sidney gazed at the new guests.
His gaze hastily took in Giles, who was still drunk, swaying a little on his feet, his stare focused as if walking was difficult. Sidney’s eyes moved to Aunt Harriet, who stood beside him.
Aunt Harriet was Papa’s sister, and the resemblance was certainly there—like Papa, she had a strong bone-structure. Herhair, however, was black, streaked here and there with gray, and curling. Her eyes were likewise very dark. Her small chin had dimples and her big dark eyes were fringed with thick, dark lashes. She was pretty, and tense, like a dormouse blinking in the uncertain light of day. She smiled up at Sidney nervously.
“Nephew! I’m glad to see you.” She, like Sidney, was still dressed in black, despite it having been a year since Father’s passing. Beside Sidney, his own mother was dressed in the dark gray of half-mourning, which she had donned just yesterday following her black clothing. Sidney and his aunt were likewise free to change out of their mourning clothes, but clearly neither of them wished to. Not yet.
“I am pleased to see you, Aunt,” Sidney greeted her. It was not entirely untrue—he had always been fond of Aunt Harriet. She and Mama were good friends.
He glanced sideways at Mama. In her gray gown, her long, fine-boned face looked even more delicate. Her eyes were blue-green and catlike, her brows dark. Her hair was chocolate brown, streaked with gray, and her skin was like porcelain despite her age. She had been a famous society beauty in her youth; but then, Harriet had also been considered a beauty by theton, despite how different they both looked.
We’re a good-looking family,Sidney thought distractedly as he went to sit down at the tea-table with the guests. His younger sister Amy was also beautiful, with Mama’s chocolate-brown hair and their father’s grayish-blue eyes. She was not with the family, of course, residing now outside the town at Barrydale. He smiled at the thought—it was one of the few things that could bring a smile to his face in spite of his sadness, but he was not yetaccustomed to it.
“I say, old chap!” Giles greeted him, a grin lifting one side of his mouth. “You look weary. Have you been in your study, poring over your books again?”
Sidney raised a brow. Giles Markham was Papa’s only living relative and the second heir to Willowick. He was also funny, loud, intransigent and vibrant and he had at one time been Sidney’s best friend. Now, with the slightly glazed look in his hazel eyes that had become perpetual, Giles was much changed. It was because of the brandy.
He glanced at Aunt Harriet, who was gazing at Giles. She was worried.
“No, I haven’t, as it happens,” Sidney said mildly. “I have been otherwise involved.”
“What, eh? A woman?” Giles grinned.
“Giles, please,” Aunt Harriet hissed. Mama, sitting next to Giles, looked at him with a mix of concern and compassion.
“Have you been into Bond Street today?” she asked Aunt Harriet, changing the subject.
“No. No, I will go in tomorrow, Viola,” Aunt Harriet informed Mama. Sidney tried to think of something to say.
“Your tea, Your Graces. My lady, my Lord.” The butler announced, saving him the need to think anymore, and everyone was silent as the butler unloaded the tea-things and poured theirtea. Sidney accepted a cup of tea with a nod of thanks and added sugar, stirring absently. He sipped it, barely aware of how it tasted. His attention was elsewhere.
“Nephew, may I speak to you in confidence?” Aunt Harriet whispered from Sidney’s left.
“Of course, Aunt,” Sidney agreed at once, seeing the frown of consternation on her brow.
“Very well. I shall only be a moment, my dear Viola,” Aunt Harriet said, addressing Mama.
“Of course,” Mama agreed.
Sidney followed Aunt Harriet to the door, standing back to hold it open for her. She hurried with him into the hallway and then to the small antechamber next to the drawing room.
“Sidney, I fear for Giles,” Aunt Harriet confided at once.
“You fear for him?” Sidney asked carefully.
“His drinking. It is...not good,” Aunt Harriet said, staring at the wall as she spoke. Her expression was tense and drawn. “It’s his health I fear for. But I worry for us all,” she added, those dark eyes pools of concern and care.
“For all of us?” Sidney asked.
