There was a bit of a flutter as the next song ended, with the congregated people pulsing around a series of new arrivals with a gasp and flurry of fanfare. Ambrose and Matthew both raised their heads to observe it, staying in place as the music once again transitioned, this time to a rapid overture instaccato.
“Lord Greendale, the Vicar General in service to the Archbishop of Canterbury!” the herald announced, to a general murmur of approval.
“Oh, fancy,” said Ambrose, lifting a glass of champagne from a passing tray.
The herald continued, “Accompanied this evening by Her Grace, the Duchess of Canterbury.”
He almost dropped the glass.
His fingers went immediately numb, his heart sinking into his stomach as his head snapped around to the entry to see a rustle of gauzy sky-blue skirts, a flash of white-blonde hair, and the unmistakable air of superiority that only his mother could embody walking into a room.
“Ah,” he said politely. “Shit.”
She nodded graciously to the assembled ogling masses, dipping and swishing her skirts about to dazzle them, and then parted from the vicar general with a press to his hand and what was likely an impeccably polite beg-off in that utterly polished way of hers.
Ambrose grimaced. He couldhearher in his head, even from here, across the room.
“You think you have unfair expectations upon your head, my darling Ambrose?”she would say to him, from whatever tender young age he’d been when he’d learned to complain.“Your father is only a duke. Mine own was a prince of the Swedish crown. Imagine that!”
As though suffering were a competitive sport.
He glanced around, wondering if there was somewhere nearby that would facilitate a quick escape or elsewise shield him from her observation.
Unfortunately, the damned hydrangeas were against a wall and still being interrogated by bloody Mrs. Baxter.
“Ambrose,” Vix’s voice came, breathless and urgent at his elbow. “I didn’t know she was coming.”
Immediately his body eased in some small degree, turning toward her like a buoy in a sea storm. “We did invite her,” he said, cringing at his own stupidity. “But I thought she’d send money and some condescending apology and stay in Kent where she belongs.”
“Right,” said Matthew Everly, “I’m just going to …”
“Yes, go,” said Vix impatiently, flapping her hand at him until he had, in fact, gone. “Here she comes.”
He breathed deeply and held it as his mother locked her eyes on his, a pale, icy blue, and gave him her fixed duchess’s smile as she floated her way across the ballroom floor. “Ambrose!” she cried, reaching her hands out for his. “Sir Ambrose, now! My most darling child!”
He did not flinch. “Mother,” he replied. “I did not expect to see you tonight. What a gift.”
He saw Vix’s head swing toward him at the word, saw the miniscule rise in her brows. He wanted to almost smile at it, knowing that she understood. He did not.
“And you must be my new daughter,” Helena Aster said, turning toward Vix with her smile still firmly in place. “Goodness, look at you. You have royal stature, my girl.”
“Oh,” said Vix, appearing genuinely surprised. “Thank you, Your Grace. It is a pleasure to meet you in person. I have heard much of you and your family.”
“Hm, I am certain you have,” said the duchess, flicking a little glance at her son. “I would have come earlier, but the duchy requires many duties, and I could not get away until now. I am so very proud to see my Ambrose finally embracing his potential, at long last.”
“Mother,” Ambrose said, already exhausted, already going numb again from the inside out. “Please.”
“He has always been the most talented of my children, you know,” she said to Vix, turning toward her as though Ambrose was interrupting the adults in conversation. “Utterly stunning in every way, and thoroughly unwilling to embrace it. I can see now that all he needed was the influence of a worthy woman. What is your heritage, my dear? Greek? Italian? You’ve a look of the Mediterranean about you.”
Vix opened her mouth to answer but was barreled over before she could make a sound.
“I will, of course, introduce you to all of the best people,” Helena continued, reaching out to touch Vix’s arm where her skin peeked out between the top of her glove and the bottom of her sleeve. “We will have Society eating from your hand. This charity will only be the beginning of your ascent, my darling girl, you will see.”
Ambrose lifted his glass to his lips, pushing some champagne down past the lump in his throat. He observed the dazzled befuddlement in his wife’s eyes.
This was what she had always wanted, wasn’t it? This was better than anything he could have offered her himself, such as he was.
“The knighthood was such a welcome surprise, of course,” his mother was continuing, her voice beginning to muddle with thestatic of familiar weight in the air, smothering out the color and warmth from everything. “I can only hope you continue to guide him into the light.”
