“Where were you?” Mother sat behind the pianoforte, fingers splayed on the keys as if in reminiscence of tunes now silent. “You did not come home last night.”
“I am sorry to cause you worry.”
“I fear you have done little else your entire life.”
Simon scooted a satin-seated chair from the wall and straddled it backward. Mother would have gasped could she have seen it. He should bear guilt for that. He should bear guilt for slipping into Sowerby House at the break of dawn too.
But he was too weary for anything but exhausted indifference. “I had matters which had to be attended to.”
“Your father was one of the most fully engaged men I have ever known. He had more duties and pressing businesses to attend than you have even thought about—and hismattersnever kept him from bed at a proper hour.”
“I am not my father.”
“Of that I am well aware.”
Simon dropped his forehead to the back of the chair. Frustration expanded throughout his body, but he tried to ward off the tension. Mother could not be blamed. She was tired and afraid like he was—only worse, because she was left in the dark.
He stifled a yawn with his fist. Last night, after departing the Whitmore town house, he had hurried back for Seeley Lane. The muscled turnkey had been gone and the room stripped of belongings. Simon had spent the last hours of night combing every nearby tavern and pub. The man was nowhere.
But Simon would find him soon enough. As soon as he gained some sleep, he would take another visit to Newgate and wait for the turnkey to leave for the day. The blackguard had a lot of questions to answer. And if it took bloody fisticuffs to get him talking, Simon would oblige.
Happily.
“You have not eaten breakfast.”
“I will sleep first.”
“You do not take care of yourself, Son.” Mother sagged from behind the pianoforte. “Have you no thought for anything beyond the present? Can you not see that you shall fall ill? Do you not realize that in less than a fortnight, you shall lose your inheritance?” Her voice cracked. “Have you no care that you and the children you supposedly care for shall be destitute, if not for the charity of myself and others?”
The bleakness of her words engulfed him. He moved his chair back to the wall, walked behind the pianoforte, and with a careful finger, brushed the tears from Mother’s cheeks. He kissed the top of her head. “All shall be well, Mother.” He hoped she believed the words.
He certainly did not.
“Married?” The word had difficulty squeezing out.
Mamma waved it away, as if her splendid bit of news was hardly worthy of fuss. “Do not carry on so, darling. Most everyone is doing it. Of course, I would have consulted you first had you been a child. But I daresay, you are quite a lady now and should be old enough to encourage any desire of my heart, if you truly loved me.”
“It is just so”—Georgina sank into one of the parlor chairs, a strain creeping across her temple—“I daresay, it is all very sudden.”
“On the contrary. I have known him quite longer than I knew your father.”
“Where did you meet?”
“Oh, I knew you would make me tell, you silly girl.” A pout settled across Mamma’s lips, then an impish smile dashed it away. “I had little intention of confessing to my own daughter, but it seems I must. I have not been in Bath these past three weeks.”
“Oh?”
“The Hawes and I grew hideously bored taking the mineral waters, so we traveled back to London to attend a house party at Gumbleton Estate in the country. Of course, it did enter my heart to write to you, but I did not wish to burden you with news I was so near when you were doubtless otherwise occupied with suitors and such.” Mamma giggled. “Speaking of which, it has been whispered to me by more than one nattering friend that you have been seen with the illustrious Mr. Oswald. Am I to imagine a matrimonial announcement is forthcoming?” “You are to imagine nothing of the sort.” Did Mamma know her so little? Did she remember nothing of Simon Fancourt?
“You have always been shy, I think, else you would have been married by now. Poor darling. But let us not speak of it. I must continue this story quickly, for all day I have been longing quite pathetically for a soak in warm water and a cup of hot tea. Nothing pacifies me like those two remedies after a hard travel.” She rushed in a breath. “In short, it was quite providential that I should happen to find an old friend in attendance. We had both known each other since childhood days, and I once fathomed myself in love with the silly boy. Until your father, of course.” Sighing, she twirled at the gold, pearl-studded ring on her pudgy finger. “The three of us were all quite wonderful friends, many years ago, but by and by, he no longer came to visit. I have neither seen nor heard from him in positively ages.”
Georgina nodded as if she understood, as if a sour taste was not forming in her mouth. “And then?”
“Oh, he quite charmed me all over again, the darling man. As soon as the banns were read, we were married at the church near Gumbleton. We had but two glorious days before we decided we must return to reality sometime. He went on to take care of business at his estate, and I am returned here to wait for him. He should arrive most anytime, I imagine, and then you shall meet your new papa.”
Georgina bit her lip against a burning protest. She intertwined her hands in her lap. “I am…” She cleared her throat. “I am happy you are happy, Mamma.”
“You sweet pet.” Mamma stood and patted Georgina on the cheek, then sashayed from the room with murmurs about a hot bath and tea.
