Now she was staring at him like he was daft. “The date, Guy?”
“The ninth.”
“And tomorrow is?”
Was she really giving him a counting lesson! “The tenth—because any fool knows that ten always follows nine.”
“Indeed it is. It is the tenth of September, 1820, to be exact.”
“And that is pertinent to this discussion because…?”
“Give it a moment to marinate, dear, and I am sure it will come to you.”
Guy waited several and when nothing came to mind, was on the cusp of responding with a surly shrug when it slammed into him like a wall. “It is the anniversary of Papa’s death.”
“Thetenthanniversary to be precise.”
“I’d completely forgotten.” And now he felt terrible. “To be honest, I’ve always tried to put it out of my mind.” As it was one of the main reasons why he hated his birthday. He’d spent his entire twentieth birthday writing his beloved papa’s eulogy.
“As you should, dear boy, because life goes on and your father would have wanted you to commemorate his life and not his demise. But your mother has been a widow for a decade and that’s the real milestone here. She adored your father from the first moment she set eyes on him and when he died, a part of her did too. She’s always tried to busy herself at this time of year, but it has hit her harder this time than usual. In fact, it’s all she’s talked to me about for months now and it is not like her to dwell on her grief.”
“She’s been dwelling?” His mother hadn’t mentioned anything to him. Aside from that comment the other day about being furious that his father had reneged on his promise to grow old with her.
“Constantly. ‘Ten years, Almeria, a lifetime, yet I still miss him so much.’” His aunt sighed, the worry in her eyes reminding him that her heart wasn’t quite made of the granite she wanted everyone to think it was. “I knew she needed more of a distraction this year than ever before. I even planned a whole trip to take her mind off things and invited her to travel to Scotland with me. But she would have none of it because of you. She wanted to do something big to celebrate your milestone to take hermind off hers. That is why I did everything I could to help her arrange thismockery of a sham,as you have so ungratefully labeled it.”
“Oh…” Guy wasn’t sure what he felt about that. It was a lot to take in. His mother had always been such an exuberant force of nature it genuinely hadn’t occurred to him to consider she was still in the depths of grief after a decade. “She should have told me.”
“Of course she shouldn’t! She’s your mother and she doesn’t want to be a burden to you. Especially at this time of year when you are always at your curmudgeonly best.” His aunt rose to her feet so that she could glare at him like a naughty child. “However, now that you’ve gone and upset her even more, I suppose needs must. So if you could heave yourself out of your traditional, annual, solo, self-indulgent celebration ofoh, woe is me,I would appreciate some tolerance on your part to make the next few days more bearable for her. Even if you just drag your scintillating sourpuss to dinner every evening and sit there in disapproving silence it would mean the world to her.” She turned up her nose. “For reasons best known to your mother, she adores you as much as she adored your father, although why she does when you are such an ingrate is beyond me!”
That final barb issued, Aunt Almeria sailed out, leaving Guy to absorb the full extent of her bombshell.
He dropped his head into his hands in frustration, secure in the knowledge that if he had known how she was feeling, he would have come up with a far better way of distracting them both from September. Even if that had meant abandoning this estate at harvest time to trek to Scotland with her and his overbearing bloody aunt. Who also could have told him all this sooner! What was it with women that they did one thing when they meant another? They were all as unfathomable as they were bloody exasperating!
And he was an arse.
ChapterEIGHTEEN
Lottie almost fell off her chair when Lord Wennington strode into the breakfast room. He wasn’t dressed for riding either, which was most unlike him in the mornings. Instead, he was wearing a smart forest-green coat that did wonders for both his shoulders and his coloring, a tan waistcoat, and buff breeches that hugged his powerful rider’s thighs in a way that made her mouth water. He’d even tied a cravat when he was usually one for a simple country knot.
“Good morning, everyone.” He bent to kiss his equally stunned mother’s cheek. “And my apologies for neglecting you all yesterday but urgent estate business came up that I could not get out of. I hope you can all forgive me.” But while he was smiling at no one in particular, his eyes scanned every pair seated around the table but hers.
“Of course we forgive you, my lord.” Lady Lynette Connaughlty, the most dislikable of the invited debutantes present, simpered as Guy took his seat at the head of the table. Lottie had taken an instant dislike to her the moment she had shown her to her assigned bedchamber and Lady Lynette had pointed out all of the things she would change in the charming room as soon as she became the viscountess. The arrogance of the chit was astounding. “As I told everyone here repeatedly yesterday, you must be a very busy man.”
And good gracious, did Lady Lynette love to pontificate! No sooner had she put her foot in the door than she behaved as if she owned the place while expecting everyone else to defer to her as if she were already the viscountess. If anyone dared continue their conversation while she interrupted, Lady Lynette would shush them with a frown. “An estate as large as yours takes a lot of running. Especially at this time of year when the carrots need harvesting. I spotted your workers plowing up those straightaway on our tour of the grounds yesterday. Those and the turnips.” As Guy blinked at her, clearly unsure quite how to respond to that, Lady Lynette batted her lashes at him across the table. “Well done, you, for both carrots and turnips are such difficult crops to grow.” That, in a nutshell, was why Lady Lynette was so dislikable.
Not only was she a dreadful know-it-all—which would have been quite bad enough in itself—she actually knew nothing at all. Carrots and turnips were harvested in July and not September, and any fool could see that his workers had been harvesting the wheat. With scythes and not plows. If any farmer was ever foolish enough to harvest his carrots with a plow, he’d have a crop of mush! And there was nothing difficult about growing them, beyond the backbreaking tasks of planting the seedlings and pulling them up by hand. But the self-appointed diamond of the last three seasons did love the sound of her own voice and was apparently an expert on everything.
“Thank you,” he eventually stuttered when he realized that Lady Lynette was actually ignorant and not being ironic. “I… um… hope you enjoyed your tour.”
“Oh, it was quite splendid! As usual.” In case the awful Lady Lynette had scored some points over her, Miss Abigail Maybury, the Kent neighbor who was seated beside him and was possibly the most shameless young lady present, touched his arm with bold overfamiliarity. Exactly as his mother had hoped she would. “But then I have always loved your beautiful grounds, my lord.” If her rival had simpered, Miss Maybury positively oozed take-me-I-am-yours eagerness. “It has been too long since we last took a turn about them. I would be happy to withdrawfrom the bowls tournament this afternoon if you fancied some proper exercise later.”
“I would too.” Lady Lynette batted her lashes some more.
“As would I,” said two of the other young ladies in unison, as clearly none of them had any pride when it came to snaring themselves a viscount.
As much as that brazen behavior appalled her, Lottie was sorely tempted to toss her hat into the ring too. Not because she particularly craved exercise or because she wanted to attempt to compete with these awful women—although unsurprisingly after their spectacular kiss, she did—but because she was desperate for a chance to apologize to him again. She had hurt him and that had torn her to shreds, so at the very least, if he couldn’t forgive her, she wanted him to understand that she hadn’t had a choice.
As if he knew she was pondering how best to approach him, his stormy gaze briefly settled on Lottie’s, then hardened before it snapped away.
