The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(23)

*

Con followed Lady Bellamny and his mother down the corridor to a light-filled morning room in the back of the house.

The parlor—filled with old furniture—was comfortable rather than formal. The lower walls were painted a muted shade of apple green. The curtains and upper walls were of a large floral pattern. Paintings, mostly portraits of children, pets, and other people, covered almost every surface running up two of the walls. The French windows his mother had had installed led out to her favorite part of the garden.

“Constantine,” Mama said, motioning him to one of two chairs near the sofa next to which she stood. “Please sit where I can easily see you.”

That never boded well for him. Instead of complying, he took up a position next to the fireplace. “I believe I would rather stand.”

“As you will.” Her eyes narrowed at him as she gracefully sank onto the sofa, settling her skirts as she did.

When the butler entered bearing a large tea tray, Con was glad to see his favorite lemon tarts covering one plate. Were they Cook’s idea or Mama’s?

Lady Bellamny chose an old French cane-backed chair to Mama’s right.

Once he received a cup of tea from her, Con decided to begin with the most relevant piece of news first. “Lady Charlotte and I are betrothed.”

“Betrothed!” His mother opened and closed her mouth as if she would say more but did not know quite what. Unfortunately, that did not last nearly long enough. She had been waiting for this day since he went on the Town. “You did not even know her surname. How can you be engaged to the lady?”

Devil take it. Why did she have to focus on that slight mistake?

His back teeth started grinding again. “Mother, if you would allow me to continue.”

Raising one brow, he waited. A few moments later, she inclined her head. “Very well. You may go on.”

If only he could think of a better, more amenable way to put this. But he couldn’t. “It appears I compromised Lady Charlotte—”

“You did what?” His mother’s face flushed with anger. “Kenilworth, how could you do such a thing? And how could it appear that you compromised her? Either you did or you did not.”

Thankfully, Lady Bellamny cleared her throat . . . loudly. “If I may?” She paused for the briefest second, then carried on without anyone’s permission. “Kenilworth was passing Worthington House yesterday when he was called upon to aid Lady Charlotte, who had been abducted.”

His mother gasped, holding her hand to her bosom. “Oh, the poor dear.”

“Precisely.” Lady Bellamny nodded. “He followed her to an inn where she was being held captive and rescued her.”

Mama smiled. “That was extremely clever of you, Constantine.”

He gave a shallow bow, and waited for her ladyship to continue.

“He was unable to return her to Town before this morning, and they were seen by two worthless fribbles, entering an inn.” His mother looked as if she would interrupt once more but held her peace. “One of whom would not hesitate to blacken both Lady Charlotte’s and Kenilworth’s names. Naturally, as a gentleman and a peer, Kenilworth is prepared to do his duty.”

“I think both you and Lady Charlotte were extremely brave,” his mother said. “It is a wonder she was not suffering from strong hysterics when she arrived.” Mama took another sip of tea, all the while gazing at him with a calculating look in her eyes. “As you know, I wished for a love match for you. However, there is no reason why you cannot make her fall in love with you. You are very charming when you wish to be.”

Except for the fact that she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.

“I am well pleased that you have behaved as a gentleman should—not that I would have expected anything less—and, as you know, I shall be happy to finally have grandchildren.”

How his mother could completely ignore that his sisters had given her four grandchildren she doted on, was beyond him. She probably meant an heir but did not want to say it.

“What I would like to know is, how do you feel about this?”

Mama’s question shook him out of his thoughts. How did he feel?

At first, infuriated that he was being put upon. Then he’d seen how truly distraught Charlotte was, and lost much of his ire. As wrongheaded as she was, at least she believed passionately about the rightness of her cause. And where there was such passion, there was an opportunity to direct it into more appropriate avenues. She was not afraid to express her mind. That, though, was a double-edged sword that was currently being held to his neck.

Her innocence was refreshing, as was her honesty. He could do much worse and most likely not a great deal better. The only real problem was that she could not stand to be around him.

“She is beautiful, intelligent, and will make me a fine wife and marchioness.”

His mother nodded.

Now was the time to tell her Lady Charlotte was not as sanguine about this situation as he was. “However, I am afraid she is not as pleased about our betrothal as I am.”

Mama’s eyes hardened into emerald shards, and he hoped it was in defense of him. He was her only son after all. “Does she think she can do better than Kenilworth?”

“I think she could do better,” he retorted, attempting to lighten Mama’s mood. “That, however, is not her complaint. She objects to my keeping a mistress.”