“Ah… I totally forgot. Of course, Mother.”
Gabriel, accustomed to these familial intrusions, took it in stride. He bowed slightly, acknowledging their presence with a smile. “Good day, Your Grace, Lady Letitia.”
Their mother returned the greeting with a nod. “Good day, Gabriel. Now, Matthew, let us not waste time on pleasantries. There’s something we need to discuss.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Discuss? Can’t it wait until after my visit to the Piltons? I have to make a proper impression, you know.”
Letitia chimed in, “Well, that’s what we’re here for. To ensure you don’t disgrace yourself or the family.”
Matthew rolled his eyes. “I am perfectly capable of handling social situations, thank you very much.”
The Dowager Duchess fixed him with a pointed look. “Oh, Matthew, you are an exceptional duke, but sometimes I wonder if you remember you are a duke.”
He sighed dramatically. “Mother, Letitia, I assure you, I am aware of my station. Now, back to the important matter at hand—the gloves. Which one do you think?”
Their mother exchanged a glance with Letitia before breaking into laughter. “Oh, never mind the gloves, Matthew. We’re here to help you with more critical matters. Your attire is suitable enough.”
Letitia added, “Yes, we’ve heard enough about your gloves. It’s time for a serious discussion.”
Matthew rolled his eyes, resigned to the impending lecture. “Very well, proceed with your wisdom, dear family. What is the commotion about?”
Letitia folded her arms over her chest. “Well, since you asked so politely, Brother, you won’t believe what Mother and I observed at the ball.”
“Pray, enlighten me,” Matthew answered in a deadpan voice.
In an serious voice, Nancy took over telling the tale. “We couldn’t help but notice Lady Young’s expressions during your dance with Miss Agnes.”
“She looked positively vexed, Brother. As if dancing with Miss Agnes was a sin.”
Matthew sighed.
Well, that is annoying.
He ran his hands through his hair. “Mary Pilton has never been fond of us. I’m not entirely surprised.”
“Son, it’s more than a simple dislike.”
Matthew narrowed his eyes. “Really? Has she said anything?”
“Not just words. Her disdain is palpable, Matthew.”
“Lady Young seems determined to ruin any connection between you and her daughter.”
Letitia, her eyes sharp and inquisitive, questioned her brother about his plans. “So, we are worried. What if Mary continues to act hateful when you go to visit Agnes? Have you considered how to handle her antics?”
Matthew, his jaw set in determination, responded with a nonchalant shrug. “I care not for Mary’s opinions. She has made my life, and Father’s, a misery. I’ve not forgotten the torment she orchestrated. I won’t let her affect me, this time.”
Their mother, her gaze filled with maternal concern, interjected, “Matthew, it’s important to navigate these social intricacies delicately. The ton’s judgment can be as cutting as a well-honed blade.”
The Duke, unyielding in his resolve, leaned against the wooden frame of a nearby mirror. “Mother, Letitia, I appreciate your concern, but Agnes is worth any disdain Mary may throw my way. I won’t let her dictate my happiness.”
And he meant it.
* * *
Grouton Manor loomed ahead, a stately presence in the countryside, and Matthew felt the weight of anticipation as he approached the grand entrance. The carriage ride had been swift, yet his mind was restless with thoughts of the impending conversation with Agnes.
He got down from the carriage and turned to Mike, the carriage driver. “Thank you, my good man. I shall not take long.”