“I didn’t hear any poetry,” she replied before he could even bite off the final consonant. “Besides, Ihavebeen abetti—assisting you. I have!”
“When?” demanded Freddy, pushing himself up to sit. “How?”
“Do you want an itemized accounting?” Patricia snapped, holding up her hand and ticking off her fingers. “I got us to the Rollright Stones. I had her stand nearby to watch when you met Oliver at breakfast. I—”
“You didwhat!” Freddy gaped at his mother, both impressed and a little affronted. “She wasn’t there!”
“She was, dear. In the trees,” Patricia told him, widening her eyes for emphasis and moving on to her third finger, “and she will be there, next to you, in the church later. I saw to it. You, Claire, and Oliver sat together, as a family ought to be. My family. Right in the front pew.”
“Oh, excellent,” Freddy nodded with sarcastic enthusiasm, “I shall endeavor to seduce from the front row of a church service, Mother. That is deeply romantic.”
“It’s awedding, Frederick. Awedding!” Patricia shook her head, tossing her jewels onto the top of the chest of drawers to her right. “If you cannot make use of the romance of a wedding to your own ends, then I cannot help you anyhow.”
Freddy made a face. He wanted, for a brief, ill-advised moment, to tell his mother about all the surprising places he’d managed to seduce a girl before.
He did not do that.
The fact that he stopped himself was, perhaps, further proof that he really had changed.
“Please don’t call me Frederick,” he said instead.
“Have you made any progress at all?” she returned, crossing her arms. “Freddy?”
“I have, in fact,” he told her, dropping his elbows onto his knees as she floated forward to refill their cups of tea. “I kissed her.”
Patricia’s fingers faltered on the handle of the teapot, pale blue eyes flicking up to meet her son’s. “You are teasing me.”
“On the cheek,” he clarified with a chuckle, because he had been teasing her. “She looked like I’d run her through with a bayonet. It was glorious.”
“Ah, yes,” said Patricia with a single, dry blink, “exactly the reaction one hopes for in matters of love.”
“In matters of love? That’s a volatile chemistry,” Freddy said, still amused, still smiling. “In matters of Claire, there are clearer signs of effect.”
“Are there? She always seems so very composed to me,” Patricia said thoughtfully, taking her teacup and standing aggressively by the chaise until Freddy got the message and scooted over for her to sit. “Perhaps I do not disquiet her in quite the same way.”
“I imagine you did, upon first meeting,” Freddy said with a tilt of his head. “Unless you welcomed your son’s usurper with open arms and no questions whatsoever.”
Patricia colored, averting her eyes. “I might have.”
“Mother!”
She pressed her lips together, the color spreading to her ears. “Freddy, you were in prison! There were gossip sheets! It was all very tawdry and so incredibly visible. I didn’t have any questionsbecause it all seemed very clear to me! And because … well, Tommy …”
“Tommy interrogated her?” Freddy asked, somehow both delighted and horrified. “In front of you?”
“I … yes,” Patricia answered thinly. “Millie was there. She assisted in the answering. It was all terribly awkward, darling, and the damage was already done. Claire had arrived with legally binding custodianship of the Nook. We could adapt or we could find somewhere else to live. You must understand …”
“I understand completely,” Freddy said, surprised that he truly did. “I won’t pretend I didn’t imagine you giving her icy disdain in maternal outrage for my displacement, however. Really, Mother. Haven’t you an ounce of defense for your own cub?”
“I did,” she answered with a high-pitched outrage, “back when he was still a cub!”
“I see, I see,” Freddy pressed, enjoying her discomfort. “And here was Claire with a brand-new cub to dote over. Typical!”
She watched him for a moment, her color softening back to normal, her mouth in a thin line. “Have you finished?”
Freddy gasped, dropping an affronted spray of fingers to his throat. “Not yet! Is Claire a better earl than me? Go on, tell me the truth.”
Patricia gave a loud sigh. “Of course she is, Freddy. Abra would be a better earl than you.”
