“Well done, Brother!” John praised. “Did you have to grovel?”
“I did not.”
“Ah,” John said. “Arabella must have taken pity on you, then.”
Colin chuckled. “Perhaps, but I am not complaining.”
John gestured towards the manor. “I believe you have earned your breakfast this morning.”
“That I did,” Colin replied.
They started walking back towards the manor. “I sent a messenger off this morning,” John revealed.
“You did?”
“I ordered him to remain at Lady Marjorie’s townhouse until she penned a reply,” John shared.
“That is rather brazen, is it not?”
“I hate not knowing her feelings on the matter.”
“Were you honest and forthright in your letter?”
“I was,” John confirmed.
“Then you have nothing to fear.”
John glanced over at him. “I truly doubt that,” he said. “I counted over a hundred ways that this ends poorly for me.”
“Only a hundred?” Colin joked.
“I’m afraid I stopped counting after that.”
“That was probably wise.”
As they approached the door, Dickson opened it, and they stepped into the entry hall. John turned to face Colin. “I couldn’t help but wonder if I should have delivered the note myself.”
“How do you think that would have been received?”
John winced. “I’m not sure.”
“Then you were wise to send a messenger.”
The words had barely left his mouth when his mother shouted from the top of the stairs. “You areengaged?”
“Botheration,” John muttered.
Their mother descended the stairs, brandishing a morning newspaper in her hand, her eyes focused on John. “When were you going to tell me that you were engaged to Lady Marjorie?”
John put his hands up in front of him. “In due time…”
“In due time?” she repeated. “But I am your mother!”
“Perhaps we should have this conversation in the drawing room,” Colin suggested in a low voice, “where there aren’t any inquisitive ears.”
“Yes,” their mother agreed. “That would be for the best.”
No one spoke as they walked the short distance to the drawing room, and Colin closed the door behind him.
