AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“My goodness!” She vented at him. “Your lot is little better than a pack of outlaws!”
“I can’t disagree.” He admitted calmer now that she was under his protection. He’d instruct Bruce to be even more careful and not let her out of his sight for even a minute.
She paced to the window, a hand rubbing her brow. “I should never have got involved in this.” She said under her breath.
Involved with him, she meant. And in that, he couldn't disagree more. In hindsight, she'd burst into his life like a dazzling beacon. But he took into consideration the fact that she must be shocked with how this situation unravelled to the point she had to upend her life.
“It won’t last for long.” He tried to cheer her up though he couldn’t be certain of it. “I’ll leave you in the care of Wakefield.”
She whirled to him. “You’re going out again?” And this time he saw her beautiful eyes darken with the fear she was striving not to show.
“Yes, I’ll be back shortly.” But all he wanted was to stay and give her the comfort she deserved. “Bruce will protect you.”
Their eyes clasped for long moments before she gave a resolute nod, and he turned to leave.
“Do you have any idea of what you did?” Drake asked his mother with an angry glare.
He left Worcester House with the express aim of taking it with the Dowager Marchioness. Not that he was eager to see his dear mother in the aftermath of her aborted manoeuvre. He did it for Hester and her safety.
“You expelled me from your dratted soiree.” There wasn’t an ounce of worry in her arrogant stance.
Why he expected Honora to have a drop of sympathy for someone in the lower ranks, he couldn’t fathom. She hadn’t deigned to express concern for Hester’s position. He never deluded himself that his parent didn’t conceive that anyone below her was born to serve and was expendable. But this time he was beginning to think she went too far.
“You shouldn’t have attended in the first place.” His voice louder with his impatience. “Even less with Lady Millicent.”
“Yes, well,” she shrugged off her part in it. “She’s to be your betrothed soon enough.”
And why he’d expected her to take responsibility for the damage she caused was another question he possessed no answer for.
“You’re seriously living in a parallel world if you think I’ll let you manipulate me.” He scoffed.
The elderly woman frowned. “You must marry to produce a clean bloodline.” She demanded like the matron she’d become.
He cast her a vexed look. “To hell with your bloody bloodlines.” He bit out.
“You're so fond of the theatre.” She’d had difficulty understanding that. “In those precious plays, whenever classes mingle, it ends in tragedy.”
“A convenient view, I reckon.” He mocked.
“And if it does end well, it's a comedy, because it's pathetic.” He didn’t believe her to be so shallow.
“Of course, no one ever tells that those playwrights received support from royalty and nobility, and from people who'd pay any price to go to the theatre and be assured that their world will never change.” He pointed out.
“Yes, because those plays are supposed to mould people's minds and show them who their true leaders are.” Oxford missed out on a superb orator, Drake thought acidly.
Naturally, it didn’t cross her mind that such social conventions might change, that the lower echelons of society might one day claim their due.
"Your concepts say so much about you! About how you accepted to endure a loveless marriage, a husband full of mistresses and ended up a lonely widow." All for the sake of keeping a status quo that didn't favour her in the least.
She ogled him full of resentment. “How dare you!”
“I dare because you didn’t question the unfairness of it all.” He possessed full awareness that a woman in her position counted few options. Even a tavern girl had more choice. The girl could choose her job, at the very least, even if a lowly one. “Was that why you never acted on your attraction to that Italian maestro you preferred to die than to miss a concert from? You fairly ate him up with your eyes whenever he was around.” He challenged. Honora started seeking the maestro out after his father died. As far as Drake knew, she didn’t risk being happy with him for the simple notion that, for her, ranks surpassed everything else.
A drop of sadness crossed her gaze, and Drake almost regretted what he threw at her. But these facts had to come out in the open.
“Only a dirty mind would conceive such a ludicrous notion.” Denial would forever be her bed companion. Now more than ever, especially as Francesco D’Angelo died the previous year in his native Sicily of an unknown disease.
“Say what you will.” His emphatic tone showed how determined he would be in that. “I’ll not follow in yours or Father’s steps to live in this hypocritical bubble.”
