“Oh, not yet. Not formally. But it is implied.”
“And what has he told you of his past?” George asked, feeling uneasy having to ask these pointed questions of his sister. But he needed to get to the truth, not only for Betsy’s sake but for the wellbeing of the entire family.
Betsy seemed puzzled why he would ask that. “Has he not already told us about his past? Remember the night he related his story in the drawing room after dinner?”
“I know, but I wondered if he elaborated on any particular part of his life. Perhaps he has given you details he might not have chosen to tell us when we were all together.”
Giving him a strange look, Betsy asked, “What are you getting at? I know you all too well, Your Grace, The Duke of Sutherland. You are up to something. What is it?”
George absolutely did not want to imply any wrongdoing at this point, so he replied, “Father is no longer with us, so it is my duty now to look after my darling sisters. I just want to know what is going on and if you are happy. I remember so vividly your plea to me when you came to my studio to profess your feelings for Harold. I just want to make certain he is an honorable man. I am sure you can understand that.”
Betsy smiled. “Oh, brother Georgie, I can assure you he is.”
George could see he was not going to get any new information about Harold from Betsy. She was too much infatuated with the young man to notice anything that might seem amiss.
“Then please, run along to your dressmaker. And tell her, for me, not to make you all look like scarecrows.”
Betsy laughed and scampered off, saying, “Fear not, Brother. I shall do my very best.”
George’s next stop was to his mother. He was worried about her. She did not look at all well during the day of the funeral, and he needed to see if he should call the doctor to examine her. But he laughed to himself when he thought there was probably no cure for orneriness.
“Mother, how are you faring this fine morning?” he asked, as he stood before his mother who was sitting up in bed with the dog snoozing by her side.
She smoothed out the covers on either side with both hands. “How do you think I am doing, George? I just lost my husband. I have had to endure hundreds of strangers traipsing through my house. And Lucy has abandoned me.”
Of the three George calculated that the loss of Lucy was probably the biggest blow.
“Did you have breakfast?” he asked, ignoring her rant.
“Barely. The eggs were solid, the toast was cold, and the tea was as tepid as old dishwater.”
“And what would you know about dishwater, Mother? You have never washed a dish in your entire life.”
“Do not be smart with me, George Grayson. You may be the Duke, but I am still your mother and demand proper respect.”
George laughed. “Well, I see you have not lost your fighting spirit. So, you must be well enough to get out of bed now.”
“And why should I? I am quite enjoying my solitude. Have all those strangers left my house yet?”
“Most have. I believe the last few are leaving after lunch.”
“Then I shall remain abed until then.”
“I came by to see if I should send for Doctor Wilcox. You looked unwell yesterday and I thought…”
“I do not need a doctor. I need Lucy. Oh, George, what can be done about her? I need her desperately. And now that there can be no thought of you marrying her for at least a year, might I not have her back? After all, she is well used to my routine and seemed quite content taking care of me.”
“That is because she is too much of a lady to complain. But I can tell you, with my profoundest assurance, she intends to do her writing and will continue to reside with us as a member of this family. So, if you have any doubts about my resolution on this matter, then know that I am firm on this decision.”
The Duchess pursed her lips and waved her hand at George. “You may go. I shall have lunch in my chambers but shall be down for dinner.”
* * *
Lucy desperately wanted to turn to her writing. She felt an urgency now that her future seemed to be uncertain once again. But she sat at her desk in the suite and could not even go so far as picking up her pen. She could not get that kiss on her eyes out of her mind. She began questioning her whole relationship with George. Did he have feelings for her, or was that only an expression of his sympathy?
She suddenly stood, put on a sweater, and wrapped her thickest wool shawl around her shoulders before leaving the room. She scurried along the hallway and down the staircase to the entrance to the house. Before she reached the door, she saw Stevens.
“Oh, Mr. Stevens, if I might have a word?”
