Constance stood sharply, jabbing a finger toward him. “This is because I buried him without you. This is your spiteful revenge!”
“I was disappointed, but I’m not vengeful,” he replied evenly.
“Then… then… this is because you blame me!” she half-screamed. “You blame me for letting him leave this manor, for what happened! What you fail to remember is that I would have stopped him from going if I had known where he planned to go and why!”
Albion tilted his head to one side, observing his mother closely. Even by her standards, it was an unusual and volatile reaction, especially as he had not said anything to elicit such a response. He understood immediately.
“Is that what you’ve been thinking about during your exile?” he asked flatly.
His mother’s hands balled into fists, her eyes shining with fury. “I have had nothing else to dobutthink, and I cannot bear it! I am being pushed to the brink of madness in that wretched house, and my friends are not responding to my letters. I would not be surprised if they have disowned me altogether because of that woman who has usurped my place in this manor!”
“Speak of her like that again, in that tone of voice, and I’ll send you much further than the Dowager House,” he warned.
Constance faltered. “You would not.”
“I am a man of my word.”
She slowly, shakily sat back down, folding her hands in her lap. “And what of the promises you made to your father and brother to take care of your poor mother?”
“I made no such promises.” He paused. “That being said, youaretaken care of. There are thousands,millionsmaybe who would give a limb to live in a house like the Dowager House. When you have to worry about where your next meal comes from or if you will die of cold when winter comes because you can’t afford to stay warm, then you can question my care.”
Constance glared stubbornly at her skirts, picking off an invisible speck of lint. “I suppose this means that your relationship with that… wife of yours is progressing well, then?”
Albion had not heard the word “wife” spewed so bitterly since he left the military. He might have laughed, but he resisted.
“She is dear to me,” he replied, giving nothing else away.
The hostile old woman in front of him did not deserve to hear that Matilda had become his new purpose, his new duty, his new joy in life. She did not deserve to know that he knew true peace when he was with his wife or that he had felt happier at this manor than he had done in decades because of “that woman.”
Constance smoothed a hand over her lacquered hair. “In that case, when can I expect grandchildren?”
“Excuse me?” A bristle shot up Albion’s spine.
“An heir is the only thing that will create some order out of this mess,” she retorted. “Is your wife likely to be with-child yet?”
It took every shred of willpower he possessed not to let his façade crack. “No.”
“No?” Constance sneered. “And why not? Has she refused you? Must I have a stern word with her about duty and expectation?”
Albion clenched his jaw. “You won’t speak to her at all unless it is an apology for your behavior.” He exhaled slowly, calming himself. “As for what happens between my wife and I—it is our business, not yours.”
“Youhave a duty, Albion,” she said curtly. “Your father’s legacy must be continued. It was his final wish, and Iwillsee it fulfilled. It is the only reason I have not protested more about this infernal marriage.”
If his mother had said anything else, if his mother had said that she wanted him to have children in order to enrich his life or becauseshelonged to have grandchildren or because she thought it would bring cheer to the manor or even because Isaac would have loved to see his brother with children, he might have responded in a kindlier fashion.
He might have said “maybe” or “we have not yet discussed it,” but “your father’s legacy must be continued” was a death knell to the very possibility.
“I will never continue his legacy,” Albion said. “It will die with me. I said I wasn’t vengeful, but that is my one exception.”
Constance gasped, fumbling with the pearls at her neck. “After all he did for you, you would dishonor him like that?”
“Your memory of him and mine are very different,” Albion replied, feeling as unnervingly calm as he sounded. “He doesn’t deserve a legacy.”
“He was strict with you because he had to be!” Constance snapped. “You proved that when you defied our wishes and joined the military, venturing off to foreign shores with no notion of when or if you would return. He raised Isaac in the same fashion, but Isaac never hated him! It is you—you are the problem.”
Albion shrugged. “Isaac didn’t have it in him to hate anyone, but I’d wager evenhefelt some relief when father finally croaked. Father was a cruel, unpleasant man. For goodness’ sake, he didn’t treatyoukindly. How many affairs did he have, Mother? How many times did he ridicule you when you tried to look your prettiest for him? How many times did he strike you for nothing at all?”
Constance stared at him open-mouthed.
