“There you are, dear,” his mother said as she strolled into his study.
Declan closed his eyes and prayed for patience. His mother was being her usual demanding and annoying self. He loved her. She was his mother, after all. But he also hated her... or rather, he hated spending a lot of time with her. He much preferred keeping some distance between them. Declan found he liked her a whole lot better when they talked less. “I have been in here all day,” he said in a grave tone. “It isn’t as if I’ve been hiding.”
“Have you?” His mother waved her hand dismissively. “How unlike you.” She strolled farther into the room. “I never claimed you were hiding, dear.”
He slowly turned to face her. She wore a day gown of brilliant yellow that complemented her honey-gold hair. She was perfectly put together without a hair out of place. His mother believed appearances were everything. Even if chaos descended upon her, it was best not to show that it affected her.
“Did you need something?” He hoped not. And if she did need something, he prayed it wouldn’t take much of his time.
“Yes,” she told him and took a seat on the chair by his desk. She narrowed her gaze on him and frowned. “Are you drinking? Really dear, at this hour.”
It was well into the afternoon. She was acting as if he sipped his brandy like she did her morning chocolate. He gritted his teeth but held his opinions in check. He would not argue with her. Declan didn’t believe in futile endeavors, and his mother was the queen of such acts. Instead, he took a long draw of his brandy and met his mother’s gaze. “What do you need, mother?” He kept his tone even and without emotion.
“I am going to plan a house party.”
“No,” he interrupted her. “I do not want guests here.”
This idea of a house party was clearly a ruse for what she hoped to gain. He would not agree to it. His mother wasn’t nearly as sly as she believed. Declan saw right through her. A house party. He nearly snorted. Why in the blazes would his mother actually believe he’d give his permission for such an endeavor?
“Dear, be reasonable,” she implored. “You must understand why this is necessary.”
He rolled his eyes. She acted as if it was imperative for their very survival. No gathering was that important. He would not succumb to her demands. Declan doubted he would ever readily agree to have his house invaded.
“I don’t understand at all,” he told her. He kept his tone even and calm as he spoke. If he raised his voice in any way, she’dbecome shrill in her responses. “What is so necessary about a house party?”
“It’s summer,” she told him. As if that was the answer to everything.
God help him. Declan sipped on his brandy and prayed for patience. He was losing his and fast. His mother always brought out the worst in him. After he was done with this discussion, he would seek out his friends and go for a ride. He had told them he would be busy going over the ledgers and they should see to their own amusements. Declan regretted that now that he had his mother sitting in his study. He should have gone riding much earlier. Perhaps then he could have avoided this conversation.
“What does summer have to do with a house party?” he asked her in a bored tone. He finished the brandy in his glass and set it on his desk.
“That is generally when one has a house party. During the warmer months, many like visiting the country and leaving London for their estates.” She smiled at him as if this answered the need for her request. “So I want to have one.”
“No,” he said again. “I did not return to Easton Abbey so you can have a house party. I wanted solitude.” Too bad he didn’t get that at all. First, Lady Charlotte Beckett had invaded his life and mind, then his mother had come to the abbey to add to his troubles. Was it too much to ask to be left alone in his own head?
“You really should reconsider,” she told him. “You’re clearly upset and prone to ostentatious moods when you’re like this. We can discuss this later.”
“I’m not going to change my mind, Mother,” he told her. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He could not believe she was attributing her normal behavior to him. She was the one who often fell into histrionics when her demands were not met. “It doesn’t matter how many times we discuss this.”
“We will see,” she said in a cryptic tone. “I’ll leave you alone to consider it.”
Bloody hell. “Do as you wish mother. But there will be no house party.”
He had a feeling he was not going to win this war. His mother usually did get her every desire. He would fight it as long as possible. Damn it all to hell. Declan really did not want to have guests in his home. It would be chaos of the worst sort. Not that any chaos was good... still, he did not like it.
“Have another glass of brandy, dear,” his mother said. “You are too tense today. It might help you relax a little. We will talk again soon.” She sashayed out of his study as quickly as she had entered it.
She had probably already sent out invitations. His mother never much cared what he wanted. She’d declared there would be a house party, and he would have one. It did not matter that he had said no or that he would not like it. He cursed under his breath and did the one thing she had suggested: pour another drink.
He drank the contents and then poured more. At this rate, Declan would be foxed before the evening meal. At least his mother had given him something else to think about. His obsession with Lady Charlotte Beckett had been taken over by the idea of a damned house party. Perhaps he should visit Havenwood and pay a call on his blonde vixen. He rather liked the idea of seeing her again. He wanted to kiss her.
Hell, he wanted to do a whole lot more than kiss her. Declan might as well face the truth now. He wanted her, and much like his mother, Declan usually got what he desired. It was a matter of when, not if... he sighed and finished his brandy.
He would go find Foxmoore and Amberwood before he drank an entire decanter of brandy. Becoming inebriated would not help him. He doubted much would, but at least a ride wouldclear his head. Unlike the brandy—that would lead to pain and many regrets.
Chapter Six
The afternoon sunlightstreamed into the upstairs room where Miss Spencer held her class on deportment and dancing. They had deportment twice a week and dancing three times, on different days. Miss Spencer was a pretty young woman with pale blonde hair that was almost white and eyes the color of a blue summer sky. Her tiny stature kept her from being intimidating. Not that any of the students were difficult, especially with her. She was sweet-natured and polite at all times.
