“As far as I know, Pandora is well, as is the dreadful mongrel she insists upon calling Cat.” Mrs. Carrington-Smythe shuddered.
Relief washed over her. Lottie rolled her lips inward to suppress a chuckle at the other woman’s clear dislike of poor, misunderstood Cat. She was sure the rotten pig trotter experience was the source of Mrs. Carrington-Smythe’s displeasure.
“That is a relief to hear,” Lottie said mildly, keeping her opinion on the matter to herself.
“Do you care for Brandon?” the elder woman blurted abruptly.
Did she care for him? Of course she did. And despite her every intention to keep their relationship limited to mere physical alone. But she didn’t know how to answer Mrs. Carrington-Smythe’s query. It felt dangerous.
“He is a kind man,” she said, evading the question as she forced a bright smile.
The other woman’s green eyes narrowed upon her. “May I speak plainly, Lady Grenfell?”
Lottie clutched her tea in a tight grip. “Please, Mrs. Carrington-Smythe. I do so appreciate candor.”
Brandon’s grandmother nodded. “I know your husband was a rotter.”
Her blunt statement took Lottie by surprise. “You’ll not hear argument from me on the matter.”
“Grenfell was a selfish, arrogant oaf, not unlike the last Duke of Brandon. I watched the duke break my daughter’s heart andcrush her spirit, and I was powerless to stop it. Even worse, he raised his hand to her. I’ve only just learned for certain from my grandson, though I had suspected, being no fool. I noticed a bruise on her cheek once that she’d failed to conceal properly with pearl powder, and on another occasion, I saw what looked like fingerprints beneath her sleeve.”
Brandon’s father had done his mother violence. Lottie’s heart ached at the revelation. He hadn’t spoken of his parents with her. But then, she supposed she hadn’t spoken of her parents either. Her relationship with her mother and father had been cordial, but they had been more concerned with her making a good match than her happiness. She missed them, but she had never been close to them. Her relationship with her elder sister Caro was little different—their paths rarely crossed, Caro having been happily married for years, seemingly always with child, sending the odd letter here or there when it suited her.
Still, none of her family members had ever physically hurt her.
“I am so very sorry to hear that, Mrs. Carrington-Smythe,” she said earnestly.
“As am I.” The older woman blinked, her eyes glittering for a moment with what may have been tears before she sternly overcame them. “However, I did not relay the sordid secrets of my family’s past to garner your sympathy.”
“Why did you then, madam?” Lottie asked.
“Because my grandson paid me a visit this morning, and Brandon never makes morning calls. Heavens, I cannot even remember the last time he visited me of his own volition. I am always the one who must unceremoniously arrive at his town house, demanding an audience, oftentimes refused. I have become quite adept over the years at coercing his butler, Shilling, into doing my bidding, however.”
Lottie wasn’t at all shocked to hear that Mrs. Carrington-Smythe had managed to circumvent Brandon. The woman was formidable.
“I’m glad to hear Brandon did his familial duty in calling upon you,” she offered, still perplexed.
Mrs. Carrington-Smythe’s conversation was meandering along a confounding path.
“I love all my grandchildren, Lady Grenfell, but Brandon has always been especially beloved to me.” Mrs. Carrington-Smythe’s voice was undeniably tender now, fondness evident in the softened lines of her haughty face. “He may have been born the future Duke of Brandon, but in many ways, his life was far more difficult than the lives of his cousins. I suspect it is my affection for him that caused me to ignore the fact that he was using my family’s estate to host some manner of illicit society engaged in heaven knows what sort of wickedness.”
Lottie stared.
“You didn’t think I knew, my dear?” Brandon’s grandmother shook her head. “He didn’t either until recently. But of course, I did. Though, for years, I did my best to pretend as if I hadn’t an inkling that Brandon has been collecting exorbitant sums from the members of polite society to attend his house parties at my estate. I may be old, but I’m not a fool.”
“Of course not, Mrs. Carrington-Smythe,” she agreed.
“Has he told you what he has been doing with his portion of the Society’s earnings?” the older woman asked.
Yet again, Lottie found herself perplexed. “It is hardly my business, madam.”
“As I thought.” Brandon’s grandmother nodded. “I shall tell you myself, then, my dear. Brandon has been sending his allotment of the funds to an orphanage that was important to my daughter. Quietly, anonymously, he has gifted them with nothing short of a small fortune that has provided hearty mealsand new clothing and shoes—and even instruments for the children to learn to play.”
The revelation warmed her heart. “How generous of him.”
“He is a good man.”
Emotion made Lottie’s throat go tight. “Yes, he is.”
