Page 18 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
Avendale sighed. “You are in my employ now, Thatcher, not hers.”
“She is your mother.”
“I am well aware.” But their relationship was strained, had been for years. It was difficult for him to be with her and not reveal what he suspected, what he knew, what he’d seen. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d almost confronted her, but what could come of it—except to put more distance between them?
Thatcher did not move, did not avert his gaze.
“I should have you sacked,” Avendale said.
Thatcher lifted a brow that had once been black as Satan’s soul and was now almost as white as angel wings. “Does that mean you are home?”
“Yes.” But only because, upon reconsideration, he needed her to know he would be making use of the theater box this week. Easier to tell her in person than to pen the missive. He allowed her to use it, as he seldom went to the theater. Truth be told, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone. When he was much younger and had taken a fancy to an older actress. She had taught him the value of seasoned women.
His mother swept into the room, radiating poise and self-assurance.
Avendale got up, rounded the desk, and pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek. “You don’t have to be announced.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I worry about interrupting you and one of your paramours.”
“Yes, I suppose that might prove uncomfortable.” He walked over to the sideboard. “A bit of sherry?”
“It’s only just past noon,” she admonished.
“Then it seems I’m getting started late.” He poured himself some scotch, indicated two chairs near a window that looked out on the gardens. As she daintily took a seat in the plush brown velvet chair, he sprawled in the one opposite her.
“The residence seems different somehow,” she said.
“I dispensed with the company I was keeping and had the servants give it a thorough cleaning.”
She brightened. “Does this mean a nice lady has caught your fancy?”
“A lady yes. Remains to be seen how nice she is. I’m hoping not very.”
“Oh, Whit,” she chastised. “There is more to life than naughty women.”
“Not for me.”
“It’s high time you settled down. Lovingdon has married, and now I hear that Drake Darling is betrothed to Lady Ophelia Lyttleton. Seems something is in the air this Season.”
“Then I shall immediately take to holding my breath as often and as long as possible so that I don’t become infected with whatever is in the air to cause such bad judgment,” he assured her.
“Why are you so against love?”
“Surely you didn’t come here to discuss the state of my heart.”
“No, but sometimes I wonder where my sweet little boy went.”
Her sweet little boy had seen something that had irrevocably changed him. He recognized she would never forgive herself if she knew.
“He grew up,” he told her. “By the by, I shall need my box at the theater this week.”
“Oh dear God, not another actress.”
He grinned. “On the contrary, she may be the most unpretentious woman I’ve ever met.”
“Who is she?”
“You won’t know her. She doesn’t run around in your circles.”
