The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(41)

Bran’s mother looked at Evie and…smiled? “How wonderful. What a bright girl you are.”

Bran was shocked to see her approval. He distinctly recalled her saying that his younger sister needn’t learn anything from books, that her most important accomplishments were to be beautiful and accommodating. That his sister had adored books from a very young age had been a problem, and so she’d learned to hide them.

“She reminds me a bit of Gwen,” Bran said, thinking that he ought to arrange to see his sister. “Do she and her husband ever come to London?” She’d married last year, and they lived somewhere in the north of England.

“They haven’t yet. I just saw them last month, and they’re quite well.”

Bran wouldn’t take her word for it. He and Gwen didn’t correspond often, but she’d written to him when she’d become betrothed, and she hadn’t sounded all that enthusiastic. But then what did he know? She was ten years his junior, and as a result they’d never been very close.

His mother turned her attention back to Mrs. Shaw. “How did you come to be a governess? Your sister is the Forbidden Duchess, is she not?”

Bran flinched at the nickname. He recalled the conversation he’d had with Kendal and the others at Brooks’s. But to hear his mother say the name in front of the duke’s sister-in-law seemed rude. Then again, Bran could fit everything he knew about Society’s rules into his pocket.

Mrs. Shaw, to her credit, didn’t react. Her composure and expression remained serenely intact. “Yes, she is. I’m widowed, and I wished for an occupation of some kind.”

“I see.” His mother pursed her lips and gave Mrs. Shaw a condescending glance that flayed Bran’s nerves.

He wouldn’t stand for any sort of disparagement about Mrs. Shaw from his mother. “We’re quite fortunate to have her, aren’t we, Evie?”

Evie’s eyes glowed, and her face took on the most animation it had since her arrival. “Oh yes. She’s such fun.” She smoothed her hands over her skirt again. “She also teaches me many things.”

“Well, that’s good, then. Now, Lady Evie,” his mother said, “as the daughter of an earl, you must learn to comport yourself with poise and confidence. You must be well-spoken but not overly talkative. I’m sure your governess will ensure these things.” She sent another patronizing look toward Mrs. Shaw. “Nevertheless, I shall be here to oversee your upbringing as well.”

Bran froze. He didn’t want her meddling in their lives. He hadn’t given much thought to it but rather hoped she’d go back to Durham. Where had she been living since her husband had died? It didn’t really matter, nor did Bran care.

“Aren’t you returning to Durham?” he asked tightly.

“No, I’ll stay in London for the Season. I’ve rented a small town house.” She smiled at Evie. “Now I can visit often.”

Bran abruptly stood. If he didn’t move, he worried he might say or do something he shouldn’t, such as cast off his cravat. He paced to the windows and back again, noting that Mrs. Shaw was watching him.

She rose from her chair and looked at her charge. “Come, Evie. I think we’ve stayed long enough. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Knighton.”

“And you, Mrs. Shaw. I do hope you’ll keep me apprised of Evie’s progress. I’ll be sure to send along anything I think would be helpful in her tutelage.”

Mrs. Shaw blinked, and Bran suspected her smile wasn’t entirely genuine. “That is most kind of you. I shall look forward to it.”

“Goodbye, Grandmother,” Evie said as she slipped from the settee.

“Goodbye, dearest.”

Bran gripped the back of his chair as Mrs. Shaw and Evie left. They were scarcely gone before he turned on his mother. “You will not participate in Evie’s upbringing. I’ll allow you to visit when invited and nothing more.”

His mother stood, her gaze frosting. “Without the influence of a mother, she needs me.”

“No, she doesn’t. I’d rather she were raised by wolves.” He stepped around the chair and speared her with an intense stare, allowing all the rage from his childhood to wash over him. “You forfeited the right to be a mother every time you called me worthless, every time you struck me, and every time you looked at me with disappointment and loathing. As you pointed out, I will always be your child. I should think that would’ve counted for something, but with you, it didn’t. As a parent myself, I feel a connection to my child—to love and cherish and protect her. I never felt any of those things from you. I won’t allow you to poison my daughter.”

She stared at him a long moment. “Poison?” she asked softly. “I don’t think I poisoned you at all. Just look at the man you’ve become. Your father would be so proud.”

His father, but not her. And he wasn’t even sure he believed that. “I think it’s time you go. I’ll inform you when you may visit again.”

She nodded, and he was surprised that she didn’t argue or berate him. He was also glad.

After she left, he made his way to his office, feeling a bit dazed by the entire encounter. He stripped off his cravat and tossed it onto a chair along with his coat. He unbuttoned his waistcoat but didn’t remove it.