Tom by surprise. “Is Father returned to London?”
Ordinarily, his father, the Earl of Worcester, was the only person who could bring the duke and duchess together. But his father had been traveling abroad after Tom’s mother’s death. The last Tom had heard, the earl had been traveling in New York City, with plans to go on to Canada from there.
“Worcester is not returned.” Grandmère’s countenance was lined with undeniable sadness for just a moment before she appeared to inwardly collect herself and don her duchess mantle once more. “Some days, I am reasonably certain he shall never. Your mother’s death will be the death of him, I fear.”
It had been. Unlike his grandparents, Tom’s parents had been the epitome of a love match. His mother had been an actress when she and his father had met. Although they had quickly married rather than carrying on an affaire, the difference between their stations had been unforgivable to Grandmère. His mother had been garrulous and opinionated and lovely. His father had been raised to become the next Duke of Arrington, stiff and proper and unforgiving. Only his mother had been capable of melting his father’s ice. And when she had gone, she had taken with her the light in his father’s eyes, the joy from his life.
Tom had encouraged him in his travels, knowing his father needed to discover his own means of finding peace with the loss of the woman who had been the heart and soul of him. Of Tom, too.
“Father loved Mother quite desperately,” Tom said, his throat going thick. For he missed his mother as well.
For a heartbeat, he found himself wondering what his mother would have thought of Hyacinth before he realized the futility of such a notion. Mother was gone forever. And Hyacinth was only his for the next fortnight.
“Love is the currency of fools,” Grandmère said with a dismissive sniff. “Surely you must see that as well now, Sidmouth? I understand the Marchioness of Needham has regained her senses.”
Tom stiffened. “Is that the true reason for your call, madam? Have you come to gloat? This is, after all, what you warned me against.”
“I take no pleasure in your suffering, Thomas.” Grandmère’s lips thinned to a fine line of disapproval. “I did warn you of the dangers of following your heart, did I not? But I did not call upon you so I could rejoice in the knowledge I was right about that dreadful woman. No, I called upon you to urge you to do your duty to the duchy and marry. Now that you are unencumbered by foolish notions of wedding the Marchioness of Needham, you must see yourself settled with a suitable wife.”
Bloody hell.
“I have no wish to take a bride now, Grandmère.” Not now and not ever.
“Arrington’s health is ailing,” she pronounced grimly.
His grandfather had been in ill health for the last few years; it was an unfortunate but unavoidable fact. “I fail to see what that has to do with me finding a wife when I have no inclination to marry.”
“His heart cannot sustain any more scandal, Sidmouth. You have no notion of how he has suffered all this time, believing his grandson would sully the Arrington line by marrying a divorced woman.”
Her words had their intended effect. Guilt blossomed. In his desire to obtain Nell as his wife, Tom had not lingered upon the ramifications for his family. “I am sorry I caused him concern.”
Grandmère frowned. “You are causing him even more concern now. Lady Sterling has written me with most unsettling news. It would seem all the world is going to the dogs. Wild parties, a widow with a stained reputation next door, to say nothing of word traveling that you have been drinking yourself to oblivion…”
“There is nothing stained about her reputation,” he interrupted on Hyacinth’s behalf, angered by his grandmère cavalier dismissal of her. And, for that matter, of Lady Sterling’s unprecedented tattling. “Lady Sterling is a vicious scandalmonger and she is not to be trusted.”
He wondered if Lady Sterling had also written to Grandmère that she had been touching his sleeve too lingeringly during tea and suggesting she preferred to spend her evenings in the company of younger gentlemen. Now that he thought upon it, it was entirely possible that his last rebuff of her was responsible for her scurrilous gossiping.
“It is true, then.” His grandmother’s lips disappeared entirely, so extreme was her dudgeon. “I had so hoped this terrible travesty with the Marchioness of Needham would