as soon as Olivia had accepted his offer. Now he ought to tell her the wedding was off. But if he asked for the guest lists without giving her a good reason for wanting them, she would try to get the truth out of him, and he wanted to consult with his siblings before he told her about their investigation. So he was just going to pretend he was still engaged, ask for the guest lists, and pray that Mother believed his explanation for why he needed them.
When he reached Armitage House, he paused only to doff his hat and greatcoat. Wolfe had already told him Mother was here and not in Lincolnshire. She had elected to stay in London because Sheridan was in town, and they were attempting to unravel the tangled business affairs of Thorn’s stepfather, Sheridan’s father. Not that Mother had much to do with it, but apparently she wanted to be around in case Sheridan had questions.
As Thorn passed through the foyer, he glanced at the salver with its pile of calling cards. That stopped him short. William Bonham’s card was on top. Perhaps Mother had another reason to be in town. He released a long breath. Gwyn approved of the friendship between Mother and their stepfather’s man of affairs, but Thorn wasn’t sure it was a good idea. After three marriages, surely Mother was ready to be done with the wedded state.
Not if she’s in love.
He grimaced. It was such an unequal match she’d have to be in love to pursue it. Her friends would cut her off if she married so far beneath her. Then again, she didn’t seem to care that much about her society friends. Rather like Olivia, actually.
Ignoring the pain that thinking of her provoked, Thorn joined his mother in the breakfast room, her favorite spot in the afternoon, since that’s when it—perversely—got the best light. Gwyn had always said that whatever architect had deemed it a breakfast room needed to find a new profession.
“Thorn!” Mother exclaimed. She leaped out of her chair and hurried over to kiss his cheeks. “How was Berkshire?”
“Fine,” he said.
“And how is your new bride-to-be? I’m so happy for you, though I had no idea you were looking for a wife, let alone one like Miss Norley.”
The blow to his gut was swift and painful, made all the more so because he had to hide it. “What’s wrong with Miss Norley?”
“Nothing, as far as I know.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I barely exchanged two words with her at the ball. You never even said you were courting her, so it didn’t occur to me to ask her any questions. She seemed very quiet, that’s all.”
“She is. But you’ll like her once you get to know her.” If I can ever get her back. “She loves the theater.”
“Wonderful! Someone who can accompany me to see my favorite plays.” She cast him a sly smile. “And where is she just now?”
“In Surrey with her mother.”
“Oh, of course.” Mother tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led him over to a cozy arrangement of chairs near the windows. “When she’s back in town, you must bring her by so she and I can discuss wedding plans.”
“You and Olivia and Lady Norley with all your wedding plans,” he grumbled as he settled Mother into her favorite chair. “Between the three of you, you act as if a wedding requires the same strategic planning as a concerted attack on the French.”
“Speaking as a woman who’s had three weddings, it does. You can trust me on this, son.”
“I suppose I can.” Taking the chair opposite her, he flashed her a wan smile. “And regarding weddings and such, I was wondering if you happened to have kept the guest list for the house party you threw for Grey’s christening.”
“What? Why?”
This was the part where he had to lie to his mother. Damn. “Well, Olivia and I would like to have a very intimate wedding at Rosethorn, with only those people who are closest to you and the family.”
“The list from Grey’s christening wouldn’t help you,” she said. “Many of those people were your father’s friends, not mine.”
“That’s why we also want the one for the house party from when you were about to give birth to me and Gwyn. We figure if we compare the two lists, we can weed out those people who were just friends to Grey’s father or mine and Gwyn’s. Anyone who attended both affairs would