Page 47 of A Virgin for the Ruthless Duke

Pulling on his reins, he guided his horse around to return. At first, the stallion resisted, throwing its magnificent head to show its preference to remain out in the wild.

“It’s alright. Good boy,” Richard whispered in his ear, leaning forward in the saddle. “Another time,” he said, patting the horse’s neck to calm it before turning back the way they came.

When he returned to the house, he found that most of the men had left. They were probably somewhere on the large estate grounds, displaying their riding skills.

The tables that were shaded by huge umbrellas were occupied mostly by matrons, who sat in groups, deep in conversation that he suspected had to do with whatever riveting stories the gossip mill had spun in recent days.

The only space available was at a lone table, a bit away from the others and, rather typically, occupied by his mother. Her presence there was surprising because she despised the sunlight, blaming it for every blemish on her skin and totally ignoring the greater effect of age and time on her beauty.

While it was surprising that she was there, it was no surprise that she sat alone. Scandal hounded her like a ghost. She was also well-known for her vanity and selfishness, which made her unable to make connections with other ladies in the ton. She looked down on them and felt that any comment they made was somehow a reflection of their jealousy.

His mother was a vain mess, albeit a beautiful one. He might prefer to avoid her—going into the house so as not to interact with her—but he needed fresh air. No matter how much he disliked her, he would not snub her in public. It would be theeasiest way to stoke the fire of the same scandal he was trying to prevent.

Marching with no little annoyance, he took a seat at her table, then proceeded to loosen his cravat and remove his cufflinks, which he slipped into the pockets of his trousers so that he could fold the sleeves back over his forearms.

“It would not kill you, you know, to bid your mother good morning,” Johanna sniffed.

“I saw no need to repeat myself, since we exchanged pleasantries earlier this morning,” Richard said coldly, examining his boots and trying to determine if he needed to return indoors to clean them.

“Yes, that might be true,” she said in a sulking tone that made his annoyance burn hotter. “Though it would not kill you to at least acknowledge me when you sit beside me.”

“I did not sit here because I wanted to keep you company,” he returned hotly. “This was the only available spot.”

“Why are you so defensive, Seymour? It would not kill you to enjoy a private moment with your mother.”

“And what would we discuss?” he asked, meeting the familiar indigo eyes that had stared down impassively at him when he’d struggled. They were filled with false cheer now. A feverish gleam that made him feel slightly sick. “I doubt you areproficient in the topics I wish to discuss. Since I do not wish to discuss the latest fashions and balls, I will skip any conversation you have in mind.”

His mother’s vanity meant that she had an unhealthy obsession with material things. He had gotten his eye for fashion from her, and while he should be grateful to her for giving him the means to help Selina, he could not shake the resentment that came from knowing that she valued those fabrics more than she valued him.

Now, he watched with sardonic amusement as her hopeful smile dissolved into the sulky look she had used on many men in her heyday. Unfortunately, it did not quite suit her now. Instead of eliciting his pity, it made him feel something akin to disgust. He immediately turned his back to her, effectively ignoring her.

“What is it between you and the Wilkins girl?” she prodded, apparently not content to sit in silence. “You seem quite attached to her.”

“Not that is any concern of yours, but she is the sister of a friend, and I am just looking out for her to make sure she has an uneventful Season,” he said blandly.

The lie made his stomach churn, but he would rather die than give his mother any information she could use against him the next time she decided to manipulate him or the next time she requested money to fund her many addictions—the most current one being rum.

“You do realize that for a man who claims to despise scandal, you are actively courting one?” she warned.

“Pray tell, what do you mean by that?” he said, shifting in his seat so that his full attention was on her face.

“You and I know very well that her reputation is less than impeccable,” Johanna said in that condescending tone that never ceased to irritate him. “She is a long-term spinster known for a sharp tongue that could cut grown men into ribbons. That is aside from the fact that she is a member of the bitter Wilkins family, who remain enemies of the Barnes family. It took her elder brother marrying their enemy’s daughter to secure a truce. Even that was broken when her brother came for revenge. Her family reeks of scandal. Apart from that, you spend so much time with her, and you watch her hungrily enough to cause a scandal.”

His anger roared like a furnace before simmering as he fought for control. When he opened his mouth, his words came out in a cold tone that was totally at odds with the fire that blazed in his chest.

“At least their scandal was a result of their determination to fight for their dignity. You, on the other hand, have been courting scandal for most of your life for the worst reasons. You just want to feed your vanity and selfish heart with no care of who you destroy in the process.”

He watched pain bloom in her indigo eyes, and a small part of him that still recognized her as his mother felt guilty. Shemight be the one whose name graced the scandal sheets often, but he suspected that his father might not have been completely innocent of her transformation from the young, cheerful lady she had once been into the bitter, vain person she now was.

His childhood was made up of bits and pieces of memories of the many times he had seen either his mother or father’s lovers sneak in and out of their estate.

His mother’s nursemaid had done her best to protect him. Whenever they had a confrontation, she took him into the nursery and sang to him in a loud voice, doing her best to drown out the sounds of breaking ceramics.

Sometimes, she told him stories and put him to sleep while keeping a smile on her face. She had played the role of his mother far better than Johanna had, and he was forever grateful to her, so much so that he kept in touch with her even when he left England for those long years.

She was probably the only reason why he had grown into a well-disciplined man. She had taken up his education when his parents forgot, reminding his father to provide the money needed to pay his tutors. She had been the angel that had been sent to protect him from the hell that was his childhood home.

That was the reason he could not forgive his parents. They had let their youthful exuberance push them into something they had regretted soundly once the appeal wore off and weren’t bothered in the least bit to handle to responsibility they had earned themselves.

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