Lord Sebastian's Secret (The Duke's Sons #3)(12)
“Why not?” asked the marquess, taking the gesture for a response to his suggestion. “Ah, but you’ve Norman blood, haven’t you? One of the damned invaders.” He glowered. “It was a dire day when we lost Harold at Hastings.”
He spoke as if referring to someone they both knew, but as far as Sebastian could recall, he had never met anyone named Harold. “Ah, just so,” he ventured.
“Well, it can’t be helped,” Georgina’s father replied. “Difficult to find an English nobleman who doesn’t, eh?”
Doesn’t what? Sebastian gathered he was supposed to know. So he didn’t ask. He smiled to conceal a growing sinking feeling. The challenges of this visit were racing so far ahead of anything he’d expected. He was becoming convinced that he should have waited until much nearer the wedding date to visit. Hindsight was always so acute, he thought. And foresight so dashed elusive.
*
In the drawing room, Georgina fidgeted as she waited for the gentlemen to join them. It was taking much longer than she’d hoped, and she was very conscious of having thrown Sebastian to the metaphorical lions when she left the dining room. He was bound to learn about her father’s current enthusiasm at some point, however. There was no way around it. No doubt he would find it as surprising as she had when she’d returned home from London. Or was disturbing a better word? Georgina hadn’t decided exactly how she felt about the idea that people lived a long succession of different lives.
Joanna took Georgina’s sisters off to bed, and still there was no sign of the gentlemen. Georgina set aside the book she had been failing to read.
Her mother looked up from a letter. “I don’t think you have cause for worry,” she said.
Georgina turned to stare at her.
“Your young man is clearly enamored. I don’t believe he’ll be put off by your father’s…foibles. Alfred always means well, after all.”
Georgina was astonished that Mama had noticed her agitation. She seldom showed any awareness of emotional undercurrents. She was also gratified by her parent’s opinion of Sebastian’s feelings. Indeed, she would have liked to hear a good deal more on that subject. But she was hampered by a touch of shame over her wish that her father might be just a bit more conventional. Or at least rein in his…venturesome…spirit until after her wedding. It all added up to a complete inner muddle.
Her mother put down her pen and gazed at her. “Why did you choose Lord Sebastian? I understand you had a horde of suitors. As you were bound to, with the fortune Great-Uncle George left you.” She sat back and folded her hands, her expression as complacent as Drustan’s when he sat on the hem of one’s gown. “It was my notion to name you after him, you know.”
Georgina was too used to her mother’s plain speaking to be surprised by any of this. And the answer was easy. “He listens to me,” she replied. It suddenly occurred to her that he was one of the few people in the world who did.
Mama raised her eyebrows. “Does he indeed? That’s a very good reason.” She cocked her head, as if unexpectedly impressed. Drustan, sitting at her feet with his paws neatly crossed, mimicked the gesture perfectly. “You know, I didn’t accompany you to London last season because I knew your grandmamma would do a much better job of bringing you out.”
Georgina nodded. She’d heard this before.
“I also trusted your good sense.”
“Thank you, Mama.” That was gratifying.
“Which seems fully justified by young Sebastian.” Before Georgina could pursue this interesting topic, her mother nodded as if concluding. “I just wanted you to understand that my absence was a decision, not neglect of my responsibilities.”
She seemed about to return to her letter. But Georgina was eager to prolong this unusually open conversation. “You weren’t sorry to miss a taste of society?” she asked. “You haven’t been up to London for years.”
“I never cared much for parties and balls,” her mother replied. She laughed. “Emma and Hilda would make dreadful faces at such heresy, wouldn’t they? I can’t think where they get their longing for great crowds of people. Your father is just like me. Perhaps when they actually try to push their way through a stifling crush of chattering, staring strangers, they’ll see their mistake. Do you think so?” She gazed at Georgina, seeming genuinely curious.
The vivid description gave Georgina a new and rather touching insight into her mother’s character. “I don’t know. I can imagine Hilda gathering a circle around her and chattering right back.”
The marchioness’s laugh altered the downward cast of her features. She looked much less like her pets and a good deal more like Edgar, Georgina realized. She hadn’t seen her brother’s resemblance to their mother before, because he was so different in other ways.
“Truly, you didn’t find those great masses of people horrid?”
Georgina considered the matter. “No. A little oppressive sometimes, at the largest parties.” She’d learned to carve out her own space, with friends, in such cases.
Her mother gave a decisive nod. “There, you see. It’s in your blood. Your papa and I first formed a bond over our mutual dislike of society.”
“But you…” Georgina felt daring and trepidation in equal measure. She’d wondered so often about her parents’ marriage. She couldn’t let this unprecedented opportunity pass. “You don’t seem to have many interests in common.”