Page 51 of The Secret Identity of the Lord's Aide
For the evening of the dinner with Lady Elizabeth, Lord Linfield specifically chose a day he understood his mother to be spending the evening in downtown London with her sister. In the back of his mind, he wondered how much longer he would have to continue this charade—this running around his mother’s back. In essence, he felt sure he had to continue the albeit very minor lies until he knew precisely what had happened with Lady Elizabeth’s ex-fiancé and father.
It was likely that his mother, a London gossip and woman continually in-the-know, had heard about what happened to Lady Elizabeth. It was likely that she’d had her own opinions at the time. And Lord Linfield wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know them, as he felt awash with pleasure at the mere thought of Lady Elizabeth—and tainting that was nothing he was interested in. At least, not yet.
He watched his mother don her hat in the foyer of the mansion, scuttling about. As he watched her, Barney ambled up beside him, limping on his bum leg. Nathaniel reached down, scrubbing his fingers against the dog’s ear, his eyes still captivated upon his mother.
“That poor baby dog,” Lady Linfield sighed, casting a glance towards Barney. “When you’re gone, you know he curls up at my feet. Just whimpers and then falls to sleep. ’Tis the sweetest thing your mother’s ever seen.”
“I’ve been monitoring the edge of the forest, ensuring that hunters aren’t dropping their traps so close to the house,” Nathaniel said.
“Good,” his mother said, although it was clear her mind was elsewhere. Her hands were anxious spiders, drawing over the collar of her coat to straighten herself up and hunting for her purse in the nearby wardrobe. “You can’t possibly imagine what Mary has been up to as of late,” Lady Eloise Linfield said, speaking of her sister. “I’ve heard tell that she’s been out with a member of Parliament, Lord Cottrill. That older widow, you know the one? The one who wears a wig? My goodness, her husband’s been cold in the ground for only a year and now she’s wandering around, sipping champagne with that old bag.”
“My darling Mother, I don’t imagine it’s very kind to call Lord Cottrill an old bag,” Lord Linfield said, his voice teasing.
“Well, I’m not here to be terribly kind.” Lady Linfield sighed. “Although I am here to find my purse. I don’t suppose you’ve seen it, have you?”
Lord Linfield gave a cursory glance at the side table beneath the foyer mirror. He caught a final reflection of himself. He’d made extra care to sweep back his curls, to look especially clean and dapper.
And of course, this was a clear sign to his mother that something was amiss. He should have been conscious of this and fixed himself up after she left. But he’d been anxious and crazed, wondering what sort of thing he and Lady Elizabeth would speak about that evening. Always their conversations surprised him, thrilled him.
“What’s gotten into you this evening?” she demanded, finally pulling her purse out from beneath the foyer bench.
“I don’t suppose I know what you mean, Mother,” Lord Linfield said, sounding nonplussed.
“Yes you do. You look especially handsome this evening, and you know it to be true.” His mother leaned tighter towards him, squinting her eyes. It was as if she felt she could peer all the way through him and see into his deepest thoughts. “I haven’t spoken with the cook, but I imagine there’s something amiss. You’re having a dinner of sorts tonight, aren’t you?”
“If you must know, Mother, I’m again having Lord Everett Beauchamp for a meal, along with a few political writers,” Lord Linfield said, stammering slightly. He hated when he lost such confidence in front of her. If he could speak with such elegance in front of a crowd of hundreds, why couldn’t he stand his ground in front of his mother?
“Political writers, once more,” Lady Linfield said, her eyes sparkling. “It’s almost curious enough for me to call off time with my sister. Although, I must admit, I’m terribly curious about the gossip regarding Lord Cottrill. What’s a woman to do?”
“It’s truly terrible for you, as you’re interested in so many, many people’s business,” Lord Linfield said, rolling his eyes back.
“I knew you’d understand my predicament.” His mother sighed. She stretched up and placed a kiss upon Lord Linfield’s cheek before strutting towards the door. “Tell your political writers I say hello. And Nathaniel …” At the door, she spun back, her eyes cat-like and sharp. “Nathaniel, if one of them is truly interested in marrying you, just marry her. My goodness, I’m getting older and older every day. If I don’t have a grandchild to belittle and then train into becoming the best and most proper and prosperous Linfield, one worthy of your father and I’s line, then I simply will go mad. And then you’ll have to visit me at the madhouse. I’m fairly certain you don’t want that.”
Nathaniel rolled his eyes back. “No, Mother. I don’t,” he said sighing.
Just as Eloise began to sneak out of the house, however, Nathaniel took a firm step forward. Eloise heard the knock of his shoe against the wooden floor.
“Mother, it’s true. It’s true that I’ve developed feelings for someone,” he said. “And it’s very true that she’ll be here this evening.”
Eloise gave him a soft, genuine smile. It was clear this was all she’d ever wanted from him: a jolt of honesty.
“She’s been teaching me to speak better. To address the crowd in a way that shows both power and empathy,” Lord Linfield continued. “And truly, she’s a remarkable writer. One of the best I’ve read. I initially assumed her to be a man, which, of course, was an ill-conceived thought. For truly, some of the brightest people in the world are the women in my life. You included, Mother.”
Eloise’s shoulders shook slightly with humour. “Oh, Nathaniel. Of course we’re smarter than men. It’s a balancing act, I’ll have you know. We have to continually allow you to think you’re superior, while secretly making all the rules ourselves. It’s terribly thrilling, and terribly difficult. And too often, we’re not given the credit we deserve.”
She paused for a moment. The wind swept in through the open door, casting cold chills down Lord Linfield’s back.
“Please, ask her to dinner with me, next time,” Eloise. “I’m incredibly interested in this woman who’s captured my son’s heart. I’m fairly certain it’s never been captured before.”
“You’re correct,” Nathaniel said.
“So you’ll ask her?” Eloise asked.
“I’ll do my best. There are some complications,” Nathaniel offered.
“There are always complications,” Eloise said. “There’s simply nothing more complicated than love. Which I’m about to discover, I think, with the gossip regarding my dear sister and Lord Cottrill. If I don’t leave this moment, I’ll be terribly late. And you know that I can’t muck up my reputation like that, my boy.”
Eloise kissed the top of her palm and blew it with pursed lips. Nathaniel hadn’t time to react before she smashed the door closed between them. He simply gaped, realising that his feelings were real. They were genuine.
