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“Let them hate, so long as they fear?”

“Exactly,” his mother said with satisfaction. “It sums up my relationship with polite society, don’t you think? They all hate me, but luckily, they’re afraid of me. Or least, wary of my title. That phrase was uttered by an emperor named Caligula, whom the vicar labeled a ramshackle fellow. But, I gather, a frightening one.”

“I shall accompany you,” Silvester stated.

She eyed him.

He accepted more hot tea from Wickford, who was listening intently.

“I don’t have a sword for you. Or a toga.”

Silvester glanced at the butler. “Send a footman to the toy store in the Pantheon for a wooden sword.”

“Send another to Quimby’s for a toga,” the dowager added. “Likely they have a spare one. They outfit all the best theaters, you know. They have fascinating gowns on display. This gown was originally made for someone playing Queen Elizabeth, until the performance was canceled in favor of a modern piece. I insisted they remake it for me and then create a toga that would drape over the skirts.”

Silvester nodded.

“Don’t look at me like that,” his mother said crossly. “Mrs. Quimby understands how tiresome fashion rules can be. Wickford, you’d best dispatch those footmen immediately. It can take an hour to cross the city these days.”

After the door closed behind the butler, she said, “I am startled by your sudden urge to frequent a society event, since I haven’t seen you in over a month.”

“As you know, I accompanied Lady Yasmin and her grandfather to the country.”

Silence followed.

Finally, his mother couldn’t stop herself. “Then what happened?”

“I did not join them when they decided to visit the Addisons a few weeks ago. I traveled to our country estate instead.”

“What on earth were you doing there?”

Silvester put down his fork. “I reviewed the renovation of the dower house, Mother. As you know, I intend to marry.”

“You mean, you intended to marry. You are the most frustrating man! Do you know that your betrothal to Lady Yasmin was announced in The Morning Post, no less? I was quite vexed to think that you informed the papers before you sent word to your own family.”

Silvester went back to eating his eggs. “The report was inaccurate. Should I become engaged, I shall certainly inform you. As you surely know, Lady Yasmin has chosen to marry the Earl of Lilford instead.”

His mother was frozen on the other side of the table, her bread and butter unheeded. “She is not the right woman for you,” she offered.

“The question is moot. I shall find a different woman to marry.”

“In my opinion, Lady Yasmin has made a terrible error.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You do not strut around the Parliament the way the Earl of Lilford does, but you are equally, if not more, powerful,” his mother said, taking up a roll and spreading butter on it, although she hadn’t finished her first roll. “You have presence, and you are a duke. Any woman should rejoice if you pay her the slightest attention. You mustn’t feel cast down by Lady Yasmin’s mistake.”

“I am not.”

“Some fool tried to tell me a story about her being seduced as a young girl,” his mother said. “That sort of deplorable event can muddle a woman’s mind, which is probably why she chose the earl over you. She will come to regret it.”

“I hope not,” Silvester said, rather startled by his mother’s growl.

She pointed a butter knife at him. “Lilford will never leap into the river to save her from drowning, will he?”

“If you’re referring to the Tyburn, you were in no danger of drowning.”

“That’s not the point. Lady Yasmin was a fool to choose that block of wood instead of you. Now she’s gone and broken your heart. Why did she let you escort her everywhere, if she wanted him?”