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“Not quite. She’s just a fiancée at present.”
Her lips tightened, puckering so tightly all he saw were wrinkles and bitterness. “Do not try to be clever with me, Oliver. What sort of a boy talks to a mother in such a way?”
“The sort whose mother is determined to hound him to death,” he muttered.
“I do not know what I did wrong to raise such a disobedient wretch.” She flung her hands high. “You inherit the title, you marry a respectable young lady. How difficult is that? Perhaps you are slow like Lady Demeter.”
“Lady Demeter is not retarded, Mother,” he snapped, “and if you utter those words again, I shall have my strongest footman carry you upon his shoulder and deposit you away from my property.”
His mother’s eyes widened, and she gasped sharply, her mouth moving silently for a few moments, before big splotches of red stained her cheeks. “You would never do such a thing—everyone would see.”
“I would.” Oliver stepped closer to her. “You forget, Mother, I do not care what everyone thinks of me, and I certainly do not care what everyone thinks of you.” He moved past her, not bothering to look back. “Good day, Mother,” he called to her.
Once inside the carriage, he sank onto the seat, and closed his eyes briefly. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d truly stood up to her. It always seemed easier to just nod and agree and shoot back a dry response every now and then.
He’d pay for it later, no doubt, when he next saw his brothers or anyone else his mother knew. They’d tell him how devastated she was, what an awful person he had been to her, how he had broken a poor old woman’s heart.
Still, he did not regret defending Demeter. His blasted mother had a despicable tongue.
When he reached Blake’s townhouse, Oliver was yet to calm but he couldn’t very well confide in Blake about the situation. Especially when the man still had concerns about the wedding.
“Demeter is out with my mother today,” Blake explained and made a face. “Lord knows how that will go.”
“At least your mother is making an attempt these days. I’d swap yours for mine in a heartbeat.”
“She’ll probably wrap her in a scarf and feed her a week’s worth of food.” Blake shook his head with a smile. “She has not quite figured out how to mother but she’s certainly trying her best.”
“Mine believes she is doing a marvelous job at it. Considering how miserable she makes her children, I cannot fathom why.”
Blake led him through to the study—a decent-sized room lined with books upon two of the walls, a cluster of leather chairs in one corner, and a desk by the window. It smelled of paper and lamp oil and brought a welcome dose of masculinity after seeing his mother.
“She’s still looking for a wife for you?” Blake asked.
“Naturally.” Oliver sank into the chair and ran a hand over the smooth wooden arm. “It’s not that I expect anything less, but the woman is so vile with it. I imagine if I chose anyone other than the most bland and boring of women, she would scare them away with her vicious tongue.”
“A good job you have no intention of marrying then.” Blake grinned.
“Yes. Good job,” Oliver managed to reply vaguely though he could not figure out why his usual vehemence wasn’t behind the response. “So have you discovered anything else about the letter?”
“The seal came from the duke’s desk. Lord only knows how someone took that. They are quite cautious about letting just anyone in these days, even those who wish to tour the house.”
Oliver leaned forward. “I hesitate to say this, but do you think it could be a woman you crossed in love?” He hadn’t mentioned this to Eleanor for fear of it getting back to Demeter, but it was an obvious answer given his friend’s rakish ways in the past.
“Lord no. I might not be an innocent, but you know I always ended things well.”
“Are you certain they all felt that way?” Oliver shrugged. “Not all women reveal their true feelings.”
Blake arched a brow. “I suppose you would know that from experience.”
“Not at all.” Oliver offered a smug grin. “All my mistresses went away with a smile upon their face.”
“Well the same for any of my previous lovers,” Blake countered. “Do not think you are the only man capable of charming a woman, even upon the end of their relationship.”
Oliver lifted his shoulders. “I needed to ask.”
“It is not an ex-lover, I promise you that. Before Demeter, I had not had a lover in some time if you recall.”
Making a face, Oliver nodded. “Far too long to go without.”
