Chapter1
April, 1892
“Good God!”
This emphatic oath on the part of Earl Conyers was startling enough to catch the attention of all the members of his family. The earl, as they well knew, was not a man given to profanities, particularly this early in the day.
All of them paused, knives and forks poised, but their attention seemed to go unnoticed. Conyers continued to stare at the letter in his hand and did not explain what news within its pages had caused this sudden inclination to swear at breakfast.
His son, Denys, was the first to break the silence. “Father, what is it? What’s happened?”
Conyers looked up, and his expression told Denys the news was every bit as shocking as his outburst had implied.
He waited, but when his father folded up the letter, tucked it back into its envelope, and placed it in the pocket of his jacket with a glance toward the ladies, Denys concluded there was a need for discretion and returned his attention to his breakfast.
“Do you have plans for luncheon?” his mother asked, and when he looked up, he found her watching him with a look he knew quite well. “I’m meeting Georgiana and her mother, so we can discuss the flower show. We’ll be dining at Rules, which is close to your offices. Would you care to join us?”
His lips curved in a wry smile. “You’re matchmaking, Mama.”
“Well, I am your mother.” Lady Conyers gave a sniff. “Mothers are allowed to do that.”
“Where is that rule written? I should like to look it up.”
“Don’t be impudent, Denys. And if I were matchmaking, it’s not as if I’ve no cause. I saw you dance with Georgiana at the Montcrieffe ball. Two waltzes,” she added with obvious relish.
“True.” He gave a heavy sigh of mock suffering. “Given that, I suppose I’ve no right to complain.”
“If you don’t want to go, Denys...” Her voice trailed off as she looked at him in hopeful inquiry.
He thought of Georgiana, and an agreeable fondness settled over him. “On the contrary,” he said. “I should be delighted.”
“Oh, I’m so glad!” The moment those words were out of her mouth, she bit her lip and looked away, as if fearing her effusiveness was a step too far. “Georgiana is a dear child.”
From her place beside their mother, Denys’s sister, Susan, gave an exasperated sigh. “Really, Mother! Georgiana Prescott is hardly a child. She’s twenty-eight, the same age I am. Though I daresay she seems older.”
“She’s more mature, at any rate,” Denys put in, giving his irrepressible sister a meaningful glance.
“Either way, she’s a dear child to me.” Lady Conyers leaned closer to her daughter. “And so are you, pet.”
The earl interrupted Susan’s groan of reply by setting down his knife and fork. “Forgive me, ladies,” he said, rising to his feet, “but I fear I must be off. Denys, might you join me in my study for a spot of business before I go?”
“Of course.” He rose, but Susan’s voice interrupted before the two men could depart.
“Was the letter very bad news, Papa?”
“No.” The reply was terse, and the earl must have sensed it, for his expression softened as he looked at his daughter.
“It’s nothing to trouble you with,” he said, but even before Susan spoke again, Denys could have told his father that sort of pacification never worked with his sister.
“Don’t you want to pat me on the head before you go?” she called after him, as he started for the door.
“He likes patting you on the head,” Denys told her as he circled to her side of the table. “So let him.”
“But it’s silly,” she grumbled, tilting her head so he could kiss her cheek. “Why do men always feel impelled to shield women from the slightest hint of reality?”
“Because we love you, that’s why.” Denys turned to give his mother’s cheek a kiss as well. “It’s our duty to protect you.”
“Rot,” Susan pronounced, as he straightened and started for the door. “The truth is, you men like keeping all the important information to yourselves because it makes you feel superior.”
