When he was nearly finished eating, Grace walked into the dining room.
“Good afternoon, Mother.”
“George, do you know anything about an invitation to the Surry ball on Friday?” she asked. “It’s very short notice.”
“I do indeed.”
She took a seat at the table while the footman poured her a cup of tea. “Well, care to explain? I’m not well acquainted with Lady Surry and have no idea why we would be invited.”
“The invitation has nothing to do with you, Mother. Lord Surry will be announcing the fact that Miss Weston is his long-lost granddaughter.”
“What?” His mother’s mouth fell open. “What did you say?”
“I found out yesterday when I went to ask Mr. Weston for his permission to propose to his daughter. Lord Surry was there, and he told me the truth about her connections. After he introduces Miss Weston, he plans to announce our betrothal.”
George watched his mother’s face turn down in a scowl. “Really, George. You can do so much better than a merchant’s daughter. Think about the family legacy. She’s not suitable to be a marchioness.”
“She is, and she will be my wife. Did you not grasp the significance of Lord Surry acknowledging Miss Weston as his granddaughter? That changes everything, and while I don’t care what thetonthinks, her connections will go a long way toward her being accepted by Society. You can either attend the ball with me or not. It’s your choice, but know this, your opinion matters not to me.”
“Well, I’ve never been treated so rudely in my life, and by my own son, no less! This is intolerable.”
“Mother, either reconcile yourself to the fact that I’ll be marrying Miss Weston in three weeks’ time or you may quit this house. It’s your choice. Do I make myself clear?”
“You dare to threaten me? I’ll never accept that woman, and I’ll make sure none of my friends do either.”
George had had it with his mother’s behavior. “Peters!” he bellowed.
The butler soon appeared. “You require something, my lord?”
“Yes. Have Beckwith pack my mother’s things. She’s moving to the dower house today.”
“Right away, my lord,” Peters said, leaving the dining room.
“You’re banishing me to the country? You would do that to your own mother?” she screamed.
“Mother, I’ve tried very hard these past ten months to be as understanding as I could possibly be, given the circumstances in which we find ourselves. I know you’ve suffered. It was a great tragedy to lose Father, Arthur, and Oliver, but I had nothing to do with the accident. Yet you’ve continually insinuated the opposite.”
Grace glared at him. “You should have been the one to accompany Arthur to our country estate instead of gallivanting off to Bath. Then Oliver and your father would still be here with me.”
This was it. It was time to tell his mother the full truth about the family. “You do know why Father was sending Arthur away, don’t you?”
“Arthur needed a rest.”
George laughed. “Don’t be so naïve, Mother. Arthur didn’t need a rest; he was caught in the garden trying to compromise a viscount’s daughter. If Father hadn’t sent him to the country, there would have been a duel. That would have been a disaster, and Father didn’t want that to happen. He should have told you the truth.”
“Why are you making up these horrid stories? Arthur would never do such a thing.”
“He would, and he did. You might as well know the rest of the bad news. I’d wanted to spare you these details, but since you insist on being so obtuse about the state of our family, here’s the rest. Arthur’s gambling habits have been out of control for years, and Father continually paying his debts has nearly bankrupted us. I’ve done all the economizing I can, but the estate is nearly penniless. There will be no more luxuries or trips to the modiste for you until I can turn things around.”
Grace nearly fainted at his pronouncement. “You’re lying!”
“I am not. Your refusal to acknowledge Arthur’s shortcomings has done you no favors. Most of Society knew he was a scoundrel, yet you persisted in ignoring every sign of what kind of man he was. Even now, you refuse to believe anything I’ve told you about his bad behavior. I have no reason to lie to you.”
“What hae I done to deserve such an ungrateful son!”
“Ungrateful? What have you ever done for me? On second thought, never mind. I don’t care any longer. I’m through with this conversation. As soon as Beckwith finishes packing your things, you will depart London. I’ve sent a note to the estate manager to have the dower house cleaned and refreshed.”
“The dower house? I will live in the manor.”
