Page 76 of The Duke of Ruin
“Welcome, Mother.” He’d sent her a letter from Oxford informing her of his marriage. But he hadn’t invited her here. She hadn’t come since Miriam’s funeral.
She tugged at the ribbons of her hat, and the footman came forward to take the accessory from her after she pulled it from her head. She patted at the back of her gray hair. “Where is your new duchess?”
“I’ll have her join us for tea in the drawing room,” Simon offered in a genial tone he didn’t particularly feel. The woman in front of him had turned her back when Miriam had died, and now she showed up as if they weren’t estranged?
“Wonderful.” She turned to the butler. “Good to see you, Lowell. Please have my things taken up to the Queen’s Bedroom.”
It was their finest guest room, and he wasn’t surprised that was where she chose to stay. Nor was he surprised that she acted as though she were still the duchess. She’d done the same when Miriam had been alive.
The dowager started toward what used to be the Red Drawing Room, snapping her fingers so the dog trailed her. Simon fell into step behind them, wondering if the pup felt as disgruntled as he did.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Simon asked as they entered the drawing room. It was, as his mother had just become aware, no longer red.
“What did you do?” The high pitch of her voice made her dog whimper. She looked down and clucked her tongue. “Quiet, boy.” She directed her gaze to Simon. “Not you. You explain. What did you do to my Red Drawing Room?”
“I refurbished it.” The red wallpaper was gone and replaced with a pale yellow. The dark, rich furnishings in shades of garnet and cherry had been removed and in their place were blues and golds. “The painting over the mantel is the same,” he said helpfully.
She sniffed. “I loved this room. The entry hall was different too. Have you changed everything?”
“Not yet.”
“That sounds as though you plan to.”
At that moment, Diana strolled in, her face a mask of serene beauty. She went straight to Simon’s side and offered a curtsey to his mother. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Duchess. To answer your question, though I suppose it wasn’t really a question, we do plan to refurbish the entire house. It’s important for Lyndhurst to become our home. I’m sure you understand why that would be necessary for your son.” She stepped closer to him and briefly clasped his hand.
Oh my God, how he loved this woman. Her fierce protection and quick wit astounded him. He was continually humbled by the grace she showed him. Yes, he loved her. Beyond all odds, beyond every expectation, he loved her.
He squeezed her hand. “Mother, may I present my wife, Her Grace the Duchess of Romsey.”
His mother showed her respect in a rather shallow curtsey, but he didn’t take offense. He knew her knees were creaky. “You were formerly Miss Diana Kingman, is that right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I shan’t be ma’am to you. You’ll call me Mother, of course.” The dowager looked around at the furniture. “Where shall I sit? You got rid of my favorite chair.”
“Actually, I had it moved to the dower house,” Simon said. He’d sent many of the things he’d removed from the main house to the smaller dwelling that sat two miles west and that his mother hadn’t visited since Miriam had died. “If you ever care to stay there again, you’ll likely find what you’re missing. In the meantime, you might like that gold chair.” He indicated an overstuffed chair of particular comfort angled near a light blue settee.
“Well, that was thoughtful of you.” She went to the chair and settled her narrow frame onto the cushion. Her dog jumped up next to her and immediately snuggled between her thigh and the arm of the chair. “There’s even room for Humphrey, just as there was in my old chair.” She gave Simon a wary look, as if she wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat. Not that he knew what she was even battling. Him, he supposed, though he wasn’t sure why.
She looked up at Simon and Diana. “Are you going to sit?”
Diana gently tugged him toward the settee. They sat down together, and, regrettably, she let go of his hand. “How kind of you to pay us a visit,” Diana said. “Are you staying here or at the dower house?”
“Here, but only for a few days. I had to come meet my new daughter-in-law. Weren’t you betrothed to the Duke of Kilve?” The dowager gave Simon an accusatory look. “Your friend. Or so I thought.”
Ah, this was the problem. She thought there was a scandal, and he supposed there was, albeit a minor one. Or so it seemed to him. How did a broken engagement and two subsequent marriages—he assumed Nick and Violet had married, but hadn’t yet corresponded with them—that had pleased all parties compare to the tragic death of one’s wife? Hell, none of it should be a scandal. What it should be was no one’s bloody business.
“The duke and I decided we wouldn’t suit,” Diana said. “As it happens, he was enamored of Lady Pendleton, whom he will shortly wed, if he hasn’t already. And I preferred to wed your son.”
Couldn’t she have been enamored too? Love fairly burst forth from his chest, but did she feel the same? He knew she cared for him, but he also knew she was reticent where that emotion was concerned. And given what he knew of her upbringing, he understood. Whereas he’d been raised with plenty of that emotion, even if his mother wasn’t necessarily showing it just now.
His mother looked between them, her gaze skeptical. “How…convenient. You couldn’t have had a normal wedding? Or was there a reason you had to run off to Gretna?” Her meaning was clear as her gaze dipped to Diana’s abdomen.
“There was no such reason, Mother,” he said coolly, taking Diana’s hand in his. “We simply wished to be wed with haste.”
Mother shook her head and waved her hand. “You could’ve gotten a special license. Or perhaps not. It may not have been granted in your case.” Because of the stain of his wife’s suspicious death. Simon hadn’t considered that, but that was because a special license hadn’t ever entered into their deliberations. Not that he planned to disclose that.
“In any case, we’re quite happy to be married and to welcome you to Lyndhurst,” Diana said brightly, as if she hadn’t just had to defend her decision to marry him. She’d been denied choice her whole life, and to have this most important one questioned had to upset her. Yet she didn’t show it. She was the consummate hostess and duchess. Her parents, damn them, would be pleased.
