Page 91 of As the Earl Likes
“What does this mean for future forays to Weston?” Jo asked wryly.
Her mother’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It means I told Marcel that if he desires a short respite, and I mean a fortnight or less, at the seaside, we will go to Brighton. It’s much closer to London, and I won’t feel so trapped.”
“Did he find that reasonable?” Jo asked.
“More than.” Her eyes gleamed with mirth. “He then confessed he didn’t like it here either.”
Jo laughed. “This is why the two of you are so suited.”
“Bizarrely, we’ve invited your father to ride back to London with us.”
“That’s surprising.”
Her mother shrugged. “It was Marcel’s idea. I think he enjoys provoking Rowland, but your father isn’t jealous. He has never possessed those tendencies.”
“What are you both whispering about?” Sheff asked as he walked up next to Jo and slipped his arm around her waist.
Jo pressed herself against him. “Mama and Marcel are returning to London tomorrow. And they’re taking my father with them.”
Sheff’s brows rose. “That’s a bold move.”
“Thankfully, it’s only two days of travel. Though, I may regret my choice by tomorrow morning.” Jo’s mother looked from Jo to Sheff and back again. “When will you be going to London?”
“In a week or so, after we enjoy a honeymoon.” He pressed a kiss to Jo’s temple. “We are anxious to speak to the duke as soon as possible as to how we should proceed with regard to Ellis. I believe the duchess has gone to Beacon Park, so she may not be a part of any conversation.”
“That may be for the best,” Jo’s mother said, making a slight face. “I don’t think she’ll enjoy having this history dredged up.”
“No,” Sheff agreed. “But it isn’t about her or her feelings. This is about Ellis and making sure she is supported.”
Jo’s mother’s gaze fixed on Jo with concern. “Have you considered it may be better not to tell her or your father? Perhaps it’s best to just let the past alone.”
“Ellis’s parentage is not the past,” Jo argued. “It’s who she is. How can Sheff and I keep the truth from her? I would be so angry if I were in her place.”
Sheff squeezed Jo’s waist. “I agree. She needs to know, and we’ll find the best way to tell her.”
“I’ll support you in whatever you decide.” Jo’s mother glanced toward Jo’s father, who was sitting with a few of their friends—ironically including Ellis—regaling them with some tale that had them all laughing. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to collect Marcel, as we should be on our way soon.”
Jo leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll see you when we return to London.”
“Yes, and do let me know where I can find you, because I know you’re not moving into the Albany.”
Laughing, Jo shook her head. The Albany was for bachelors. For now, they were going to stay at Henlow House since the duchess was not in residence. Sheff had already instructed his secretary to look for appropriate properties that they might call home.
A short while later, after Jo’s mother and Marcel had left and Jo’s father had retreated upstairs, Jo and Sheff were alone with their friends. Wellesbourne wasted no time lifting a glass to toast the newly married couple.
“To Sheff, whom we shall all endlessly tease about leg shackling himself, and to Jo, the only woman cunning enough to snare the roguiest rogue among us.”
Everyone raised their glasses amid calls of “Hear, hear.”
After drinking, Sheff, who sat very close to his wife on a small settee, raised his glass once more. “To the last remaining rogue, our dear Evan Price. Let’s see how long you last.” Sheff laughed, and once more, “Hear, hear,” filled the room.
Price didn’t drink but looked upon them all with superiority. “I am quite content as the remaining rogue. And as I am a couple of years younger than the rest of you rogues, I’m happy to say that I will last quite some time. I do not have parents harassing me to wed, nor am I on the hunt. Yet.”
“Well, I am,” Min said, surprising everyone into silence. “I shall give the Marriage Mart one last try in October for the Season in Bath. If I don’t find a sufficiently nonroguish husband then, I shall cast myself into spinsterhood.” She glanced at Ellis, who sat in the chair next to hers. “You will find Ellis and me running a school for girls or collecting cats or writing horrid novels under the name Euphemia Brightly.”
“Perhaps all those things,” Ellis said with a smile.
“Why not?” Min tapped her glass to Ellis’s, and everyone drank.
