The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(42)

His mother was everything he remembered while managing to be something different at the same time. Was she simply a better grandmother than mother? He shook his head, unsure if he’d ever be able to puzzle it out.

“Lord Knighton?” Mrs. Shaw’s voice intruded into his thoughts.

He’d moved behind his desk and looked toward the door where she stood. Again, he wanted to ask her to call him Bran but knew she would say it wasn’t seemly. His eye caught his discarded clothing, and he remembered that he didn’t care. “I’d like you to call me Bran.”

Her eyes widened, and she gave her head a small shake. “I couldn’t.”

“You could. Knighton still seems so foreign to me. Could you please try?”

“I’ll try, but I make no promises.”

“Fair enough. Come in.” He gestured for her to sit in the chair that wasn’t draped in his garments. “Sorry, I’m afraid I had to disrobe.”

“I see that. I’m growing used to it. Or trying to, anyway.” She dropped into the chair.

“If you’d like to go about without your corset, I wouldn’t object.”

Her eyes widened again, but the reaction in their depths was different. This wasn’t surprise, but perhaps shock with a dash of…titillation? He suffered his own reaction—desire. He thought of her without her corset. Or her chemise. Or any of her clothing. He abruptly sat down, lest she notice the hardening of his cock.

“I came to talk about your mother.” She ignored his last comment, and he decided that was for the best. It was bad enough that half his brain was currently fantasizing about her, nude and spectacular.

“My mother,” he repeated in an effort to coax his entire brain to focus on what it ought.

“Evie was nervous to meet her.”

“I know. And how did she feel after?” Bran mentally chastised himself for not immediately going up to see his daughter. He’d been too wrapped up in his own response.

“Better, but… She doesn’t know what to make of the relationship between you. She asked me if you liked her. Haven’t you discussed any of this with her?”

Hell. “I hadn’t thought it was necessary.” Because they’d been in Barbados. But now they were here, and his mother apparently wanted to be an active part of their lives. He wanted to throw something. “It is, of course.”

“I think so. I’m happy to help in any way that I can.”

To do that, she’d have to understand. “Will it come as any surprise to you to hear she was as cold a mother as you can imagine? I was a difficult child, by all accounts, and my brothers were perfect. We looked different—they were beautiful and golden-haired—and we acted different. They were charming, and I was…defiant.”

“But you are handsome.” She immediately blushed and looked down at her hands.

His cock, which had begun to diminish, grew once more. “Thank you.”

“What do you mean defiant?” she asked.

“I refused to wear clothing or eat what I was served and any number of other things. I didn’t try to be naughty or difficult. I just was. My mother showed no compassion, no care. She punished me for every shortcoming and ensured that I knew I wasn’t as good as my brothers. She constantly told me that it was fortunate I was the third son and would never be called upon to be the earl.”

While he’d spoken, she’d raised her hand to cover her mouth, which had opened wider with each horror he’d revealed. She finally lowered her hand to her lap. “I’m so sorry. Of course you don’t want her participating in Evie’s care.”

“I do not. I informed her that she would be allowed to visit once a month, upon my invitation. Some months I may not feel inclined.”

She nodded slowly. “I don’t know what to say. I’d thought losing my mother was the worst that could happen to a child, but I think I was wrong.”

Yes, he thought it was perhaps better to have lost a loving parent than to have suffered one’s abuse. “Do you remember her?”

She shook her head, and there was a deep sadness in her gaze. “Not really. I was five when she passed.”

“Evie already doesn’t remember hers.” He glanced toward the open crate on the floor. “Those are our things from Barbados. There’s a miniature of Louisa in there. I should put it in Evie’s chamber.”

“That’s a lovely idea. I wish I had one of my mother.”

“Have you no image of her?”

“My father has one. He’d always intended to have it copied for Nora and me, but he never managed to do so.”

Bran nodded. “You’re not close to him?”

Her shoulders arced in a slight shrug. “Not particularly. Nora says he was different before Mama died, but I don’t remember.”

He supposed that made sense, especially if he’d loved his wife. Bran wondered if he seemed different after Louisa’s death. He didn’t feel different. But then he wasn’t sure the love he’d felt for her had been the kind that altered one’s soul. He knew what that felt like because it was how he’d describe his love for Evie.

Mrs. Shaw looked at the crate. “You took my advice.”

“It was excellent, yes. Thank you.” She’d been here only a day, but already he felt her presence quite profoundly.