Page 33 of The Season for Loving
“It’s an illness…in the head.” God, even now he couldn’t say the awful word. It stuck in his throat like paste.
Georgie’s startled gaze flicked to her brother.
“I’m sorry, old girl, but it’s true,” Bertie said. “Mrs. Haddon suffers from a form of madness that is also, unfortunately, violent.”
Georgie sucked in a harsh breath.
“Good Lord,” Eliza said in a faint voice.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Will said from his corner by the door.
Bertie shot him an ironic look. “It sounded pretty bad when you told me.”
Fergus glared at his friend. “You told him? What the hell for?”
“He asked me about your family,” Will said. “What the devil was I supposed to do?”
“I’ll ask you both to watch your language in front of my wife and sister,” Bertie said. “And Mrs. Clotworthy,” he added as an afterthought.
“For God’s sake, Bertie,” Eliza said. “As if that’s important at a time like this.”
Georgie tugged on Fergus’ hand. “That’s why you kept putting me off. Why didn’t you tell me?” She was blinking, trying to hold back tears. Fergus swore he could hear his heart breaking.
“I wanted to protect you,” he said.
“Exactly,” Bertie exclaimed. “I’m glad someone else besides me in this blasted household is trying to do that.”
“That should tell you a great deal about his character,” Georgie said to her brother. Then she fastened her earnest gaze back on Fergus. “Dearest, can you—”
The door flew open and slammed into the wall. Lady Reese stood in the doorway, dressed in a flamboyant red flannel wrapper. Her hair was down, and for some unfathomable reason she had a highly trimmed purple bonnet crammed onto her head.
“What is going on in here?” she demanded, stalking into the room.
Evelyn followed her inside and closed the door. Fergus made a mental note to tell Bertie that he would pay for the damage caused by the doorknob crashing into the wall. It looked like a sizeable dent.
Lady Reese stomped up to a surprised Bertie. “Now, see here, Mr. Gage, I can certainly understand your desire to protect your sister, but I will not have you impugning poor Fergus in order to do so.”
Bertie took a step back from the fingernail that was jabbing at his nose. “I’ve done no such thing,” he protested. “Just the opposite, in fact.”
“Then what is the problem, may I ask?”
“It’s his mother. She’s a…” Bertie waved a hand.
“Madwoman? Yes, we all know that,” Lady Reese said. “What’s that got to do with Fergus?”
Bertie stared at her ladyship as if she were the one who’d gone mad. Fergus didn’t blame him one bit.
“I expect Mr. Gage is worried that madness runs in the family,” Fergus explained. “It’s a legitimate concern, you must admit.”
“I’ve already explained to you at length that such is not the case,” Lady Reese said impatiently. “There isnotaint of madness in your family, as your uncle, the Earl of Riddick, will be happy to confirm for Mr. Gage. Your mother was an unfortunate aberration.”
“A hell of an aberration,” Bertie exclaimed, obviously forgetting his prohibition against profanity. “She shot her own daughter.”
Georgie let out a squeak and grabbed Fergus’ hand.
“Technically, it was an accident,” Evelyn said. “She wasn’t aiming at poor Donella.”
“No, she was aiming at her nephew, as I understand it,” Bertie said in a sarcastic voice.
