Page 59 of Lady Guinevere & the Rogue with a Brogue
“But it will make the scandal worse!” Mama cried. “What will people think?”
Guinevere winced. She knew exactly what her mother meant. People would think that she was enceinte, and the fact that she well could be made a blush heat her cheeks.
“They will think,” Asher said, surprising her when he spoke, “that I am besotted by yer daughter and do not wish to be parted from her any longer than necessary.”
Guinevere glanced at Asher, and their gazes collided. So much happiness filled her that she almost did not trust it. She did not think she would truly feel they were going to get the future she had longed dreamed of until they were actually wed.
“Oh. Well… Oh,” Mama said, at a rare loss for words. But then her face brightened and she nodded, giving Guinevere a scarce seen look of approval. “Well, of course you are besotted with our daughter! She is lovely! She has had many offers of marriage, so you can be assured that you have won a prize.”
It was all Guinevere could do to hold in her groan of embarrassment.
“I am honored she has agreed to wed me,” Asher assured her mother with just the right hint of smoothness to make her mother preen. “I am curious, though… How many offers of marriage did Lady Guinevere receive?”
“Four,” her mother supplied before Guinevere could steer the conversation in a different direction.
Exasperation touched her mother’s features for a moment, as it had each time Guinevere had turned down a marriage offer. Four offers, yes, but what her mother did not say, what she did not seem to care about, was they had been four offers from four men who had barely known her, nor had they cared to. They cared only that she had a sizeable dowry and was pleasant to look upon. None of those men had given her even a passing glance when she had first made her debut, when she had had yet to transform from girlhood awkwardness to womanhood.
Guinevere slanted her father a beseeching look to intervene, but he shrugged helplessly, which was an utter sham. Since yesterday, she had come to realize that her father was perfectly content to allow her mother to rule him, but if he needed to take control, he could. He simply, for the most part, did not feel the need. For a long time, Guinevere had mistakenly thought that her mother was the stronger force of the two and bent Father to her will. But Papa allowed Mama to do so, which made him the stronger personality.
“Was there anything in particular wrong with these other men, do you think?” Asher asked her mother, a smile tugging at his lips. It warmed Guinevere’s heart that he was kind enough to indulge her mother, but she truly did not want to stand about, allowing Mama to hash her past over in front of Asher. Lord only knew what—
“Well, they were not Kilgore, I suppose,” Mama said with a titter.
Guinevere heard herself gasp. “Mama!”
Asher’s gaze went hard for a breath and then perfectly emotionless. She wasn’t sure which look concerned her more.
Her mother had the good sense to look regretful, and then she said, “I was, of course, simply goading you, Your Grace. It was not well-done of me.”
“I’d say it was perfectly done of ye.” Asher’s tone was easy but his posture stiff.
Knots formed in Guinevere’s stomach. He was vexed. Of course, he was! She was partly to blame. She had made it seem, at several turns, that she and Kilgore had a tendre for each other, and Asher had admitted it was Kilgore’s stolen kiss that had started the terrible chain of events that had become their lives. And Kilgore’s behavior had not helped matters.
“I will leave ye ladies to planning the events for the wedding day,” Asher said.
Guinevere’s stomach dropped. “You are not going, are you?”
His gaze came to hers, a little warmer yet still guarded and slightly troubled. “I’m afraid I must. I received word this morning of a fire at one of my distilleries. I need to travel to Scotland to check on the damage, discover what started it, and ensure my employees are all well. I’ll be gone for the week.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. He had enough to be concerned with without adding her to it. Instead, she focused on the business that she knew so little about. “I’d love to learn more about your business.”
Asher slanted her a pleased look tinged with pride. “It’s the largest distillery enterprise in Scotland.”
Guinevere had not heard that in the whispers of theton. The gossip had been more focused on the scandalous idea that the heir to a dukedom was working like a commoner. She grinned at the news that Asher had become so successful in his own right.
“Oh my heaven!” her mother exclaimed, pressing a dramatic hand to her bosom. “Must we stand here and talk about the fact that you work and own distilleries that produce illegal whisky?”
Guinevere winced as Asher’s lips pressed together in obvious annoyance. “I assure ye, my distilleries are legal. Ye have no need to vex yerself. I am, in fact, one of the suppliers for the legally consumed whisky ye find here in England.”
“I’m certain,” her mother said haughtily, “I would not look for such a thing. I know not a soul who drinks whisky. It is not the done thing. Men of thetondrink brandy, port, and other,finerliquors.”
“Mama!” Guinevere scolded, embarrassed and angry.
“Georgette, I drink whisky,” her father announced to Guinevere’s shock. She looked sharply at her mother, who appeared to be close to swooning.
“You certainly do not,” her mother said faintly. “I would know such a thing.”
“I do,” her father replied, his tone unbending. “And you would only know ‘such a thing’ if I told you, which I am now doing.”
