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Rubbing a hand over his face, he sank onto the chair. Good Lord, how pathetic he was.
“What can I do for you, Mother?”
“I did not see you at Lord Marlborough’s last night.”
“No.”
“Nor at Captain Finch’s dinner party.”
“I’ve been busy, Mother.”
“Yes, writing letters about Foster.” She strode around the room, finally settling for standing in the same place as she’d just been, much like a cat twisting to find the perfect spot.
Fingers to his temples, he tried to press away the impending headache. It would be a lot easier if his mother were not here.
“I’m worried about you.” She remained standing in front of him, her posture firm.
Wonderful. He’d have to talk to her if he ever wanted to get rid of her and address the problem that was Foster and his lack of past.
“There is nothing to be worried about. Now if you do not mind—”
His mother huffed, strode over to one of the two other chairs in the room and dragged it so that it sat directly in front of his desk. Finally, she sat, her spine rigid, her chin lifted. The only softness to her was the concern creasing her eyes. She reached across the desk only to draw back her hand when he ignored her hand.
“Jacob,” she said softly.
He swallowed. “I told you, there is nothing to be concerned about. So I missed a dinner party? Captain Finch is a bore anyway and he always lies about his battle experiences. Everyone knows he swoons at the sight of blood.”
“Blake!”
“Well, it’s true.”
“It is so unlike you to miss these social events. Now you and Lady Demeter are engaged, I would have thought you would both be spending more time in society. Everyone is just desperate to see the two of you together.”
“We have been spending plenty of time together,” he muttered.
Though not enough to appease him apparently. The thought of going another day without her left his gut hollow.
“And there’s the matter of an engagement ball. I cannot believe the Duke of Daventry has been remiss to arrange one.”
“Demeter does not want a ball,” he said quickly because he knew it would be true, fake engagement or not. There was no chance she would enjoy the attention.
“No engagement ball?” Her eyes were so round, her gasp so sharp that he might as well have told her he was breaking off the engagement to become a priest. Which, at this point, might not be a terrible idea. What else was he going to do with his time when this lie ended? Go back to drinking? Other women? He could scarcely imagine it now.
“No,” he said firmly. “She does not enjoy balls.”
“Well, I suppose if she does not like them...” His mother sniffed. “It seems a shame. You two are so darling together.” His mother cocked her head. “Which does not explain why you are so morose today. Is there...is there something the matter between you two?”
Oh yes. There was plenty. Like the fact his heart kept thudding with such intensity when he thought of her he felt sick to his stomach and when he thought of releasing her from this arrangement, the nausea only increased.
“We are perfectly fine, Mother.”
“You are not, though.”
Blake heaved out a breath. Demeter was right. Keeping secrets never did anyone any good. It was about time he and his mother hashed out their unspoken history. “What is this about? Since when do you care so for my welfare? I have seen you more this Season than ever before?” He pressed his lips together. “We both know you have never shown such interest the rest of my life.”
Fingers laced together on her lap, his mother stared at them for a few moments before lifting her gaze to his. Her eyes shimmered with unspent tears. “I know I have not been a good mother to you.” She held up a hand before he could summon a response, though he could not be certain if he was going to protest the statement out of politeness or agree.
“And Iris did what I could not,” she continued. “But when she died, I knew you would be alone, and I wanted to do something...” She lifted a shoulder. “I do not really know how to be a mother. Your father made certain of that.”
