“Elizabeth is perfection as you well know. She is a master at dealing with adversity already. I fear there is little I could teach her.”
Elizabeth leaned sideways across her husband’s lap. “Thank you, Marissa, for noticing my struggles. Every moment is a trial. I pray daily for strength.”
“Sassy little nun,” Spencer muttered.
“Honestly, dear,” Marissa said, placing a hand on Spencer’s arm. “I’m more concerned Arabella has turned into such a gossip. One would think with Lily’s birth and her involvement in Rowan’s various enterprises, she’d be too busy to worry overmuch about me. My life islackingin excitement. Some might even say I’m boring.”
“You are the furthest thing from boring, Mother. In fact, it is my understanding,” a tiny snort left him, “that you are the life of the...houseparty.”
Bloody Hell.These werenottopics Marissa wished to discuss with her adult children. “Was it Brendan or Arabella who told you? The two of them gossip like a pair of elderly ladies over tea.”
Spencer, her dangerous, deadly son, a former assassin and a man few would cross, was giggling like a schoolboy beside her. As if the idea his mother had been caught in a compromising situation with a gentleman was the most humorous thing he’d ever heard.
“Brendan told me. He wasappalledby your lack of discretion.” Another snicker.
Damn it.
“I wonder that your brother didn’t just put an announcement in the Times. He’s told nearly everyone,” Marissa said in a crisp tone. “I think Nick may be the only one who has not poked fun at me,” she said, referring to her nephew, the duke.
Spencer took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m only teasing, Mother. You’ve every right to a life of your own. I’m actually glad you’re enjoying yourself. And though Brendan was a little upset at the time, he likes your...friend.” A giggle erupted from him.
Marissa snatched back her hand. What an appalling conversation to have with Spencer, though she was relieved somewhat to know Brendan thought highly of Haddon. “It was only adalliance, at any rate. It wasn’t as if I had an understanding with him.”
Spencer cocked his head. “Is that why you’re squiring about Lord Haddon’s daughter? Because he was merely a dalliance?”
Marissa swallowed and turned her attention back toward the play where the leading man was overacting in a dreadful manner and skipping across the stage.
This really is a terrible performance.
“His daughter, Jordana, is without the instruction of an older female. The poor thing is terribly awkward, having been raised in the country and without any guidance. I’ve only stepped in until Lord Haddon’s sister arrives in town to take charge of her.”
At least, that was Marissa’s assumption. There had been no communication between her and Haddon since their argument in her parlor.
I called him meaningless.
An image of Haddon that day refused to leave her. He’d been not only angry but utterly wounded. Marissa pressed her fingers over her heart. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. Hadn’t known until that moment that she could.
“Well,” Spencer said, bringing Marissa’s attention back to their conversation, “your work with Arabella certainly speaks for itself.”
“Your cousin is very happy. Her marriage is a love match though they had a bumpy start.”
“I blame Malden for her improved manner and not you.” He shrugged. “Still, I was surprised to hear you’d taken on another project. One would think you busy enough with what you’re doing to Pendleton and his mother.”
Marissa pursed her lips. She didn’t even bother to ask how he knew. It seemed she was to have no secrets at all. Now they would all be meddling. “And what is it you think I’m doing?” she whispered in his ear, not wanting Elizabeth to overhear her.
Spencer lowered his voice. “Be quicker if I just slit his throat. I’ll make it look like an accident.Very clean. Unless you wish him to suffer.”
Marissa closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and shook her head. “No, dear. No murder.” She’d forgotten howbloodthirstySpencer could be. “You promised Elizabeth you won’t do such a thing again.”
Spencer scowled. “I did. But she might allow an exception given the circumstances.” He shot a glance at his wife who seemed enthralled with the play, though Marissa was certain Elizabeth was listening. “I heard Lady Pendleton’s a sot. Had a bit too much to drink the other night during a dinner party Pendleton held for some of his political allies.”
A recounting of the incident had been in Tomkin’s last report to Marissa. The thought of Lydia drunkenly waving about a glass, drops of wine flying across to sprinkle the guests at a political dinner while her son watched in horror, was priceless.
“Sent his mother up to her room before the last course was served. Can’t afford to have his betrothal to Miss Higgins ruined by Lady Pendleton’s drunkenness, though I understand the girl’s father has agreed to the match and the contracts signed. But I expect the betrothal is about to be broken despite Pendleton’s best efforts, isn’t it, Mother?”
“Perhaps.”
“It’s unfortunate you don’t have another son to ruin the girl for you.”
