He cleared his throat, chasing the unwanted knot of emotion from it. “Good evening,” he said to Mama, who was still trapped in her vigil at the window.
She turned at last, her gaze going first to Sin and then to Callie. “Ferdy! Why the devil have you brought the duchess with you? You promised to see me alone when you came to call. You know I cannot abide that bitch.”
She was agitated this evening. Her voice was cutting, lacking the whimsy that so often infiltrated it these days. The curses peppering her speech told him she was in one of her more fragile moods.
“Calm yourself, Mama,” he cajoled, pulling Callie with him as he approached his mother. “It is Justin.”
“Justin?” Her brow furrowed, confusion clouding her countenance. “Who is Justin? Do not play tricks on me, Ferdy, it is not bloody well sporting of you. Why would you bring her here? Do you not know how much I love you?”
Although he knew Mama could not control the vagaries of her mind, he could not quell the disappointment flooding him. He had not expected her to remember or recognize him any more this evening than she had earlier in the day, or the day before that. His mother’s mind was mostly trapped in a past where he did not exist.
Callie gave his fingers another squeeze and then released him, moving forward to put a soothing arm around his mother’s back. “Ferdy brought me here to tend to your hair, my dear. I am hardly a duchess, as you can see. Come and have a seat. I shall fetch a brush.”
Sin watched, amazed, as his wife swiftly guided Mama to a chair and saw her settled. He was not certain which surprised him more—Callie’s swift understanding of the situation, or his mother’s easy capitulation. Mama did not ordinarily do well with new faces, which would make replacing Miss Wright all the more challenging. Change upset her.
“I would love to have my hair brushed,” Mama said, a note of cheer entering her tone. “My lady’s maid has not been doing her duty, I fear.”
Her time-worn hands went to her hair, investigating the tangles.
Callie discovered a silver-handled brush on a nearby table and cast him a shy smile as their gazes met. More gratitude hit him. Thank you, he mouthed to her. She nodded and turned to her task, gently running the brush through his mother’s hair.
“Do come closer, Ferdy,” Mama called to him then. “I can scarcely see you over there.”
Sin obligingly crossed the chamber and seated himself in a chair opposite his mother while Callie continued her ministrations with slow, careful motions. Of all the reactions he had anticipated—and feared—she would have, compassion and tender understanding had not been one of them.
“Is this better?” he asked with an indulgent smile for his mother’s sake.
“Much better, yes.” Mama smiled. “You are such a handsome fellow. You look like someone I used to know. What is your name?”
“Justin,” he told her.
“Justin,” Mama repeated softly, as if she were testing the name. “A fine name. It means just and fair.”
“I am not certain I have always lived up to my name,” he said grimly, his gaze flitting to Callie.
Sin was far more apt.
“I knew a little lad named Justin once,” Mama said softly. “He was the most beautiful boy, with big, dark, sparkling eyes.”
Something in his chest constricted. It was at once a relief and a painful burden to know that some memories of him lingered in his mother’s mind. He was not entirely gone. Though he feared the inevitability of a day when she did not even have these brief moments of recollection. They had been growing increasingly scarce in the last year.
“Would you tell me about him?” Callie asked before Sin could answer.
“He was mischievous,” Mama said fondly. “He had his father’s disposition, always ready to smile, and a bit of the devil in him. Once, he caught a bucket full of toads and let them run wild in the drawing room. You ought to have heard the maids and their bloody squealing.”
Callie raised a brow, meeting his gaze over his mother’s head. “He sounds like he must have been quite the little rogue.”
“I had forgotten about that,” he admitted with a wry grin.
He had been a devilish lad.
“The sweetest rogue, with an endless heart,” Mama said, her smile abruptly dying. “Where the hell did he go? Have you seen him?”
Her agitation was rising again. She fussed with her