“We know that, lad.” His father leaned back in his chair and sipped tea. “But I am of a mind to mention that you’re our only child. And for some unknown reason, your mother and I are rather fond of you. Therefore, when you vanish into a snowstorm and we hear nothing for an entire night…well, we worry.” He shrugged. “You’ll always be our son and we’ll always worry. That’s how Chillendales are.”
Guilt washed over Reid. “I suppose I forgot that. And I shouldn’t have. It was wrong of me. But…”
“Here it comes.” His mother sat with her meal. “You may eat, and then we shall dismiss Bunbury and you will tell us everything.”
Oh dear Lord. I don’t think so.
Most of the meal was conducted in silence as his father perused the morning paper, which was almost a week old, Reid noted. His mother read what little mail had arrived earlier, courtesy of a local lad who needed the extra shilling for his mum. It was a large coin for a simple service, and the lad rode a donkey, but the weather was inclement and the Chillendales like to reward diligence.
After an appropriate period of enjoying breakfast and being quite terribly polite to each other, Lady Jocelyn told Bunbury he could clear and that they wouldn’t need anything else for a while.
Reid grabbed the teapot and the unfinished plate of toast.
“Shall I leave the jam, sir?”
“You’d better. I’m going to need additional sustenance, I fear.”
“Just so, sir.” Bunbury departed and Reid could have sworn he heard a snicker.
Turning to face his parents, Reid observed two intent faces, staring at him, waiting for him to speak.
He straightened in his chair and bought himself a little time by topping up his tea.
“Right then.” He took a breath. “What do you want to know?”
“Good God, son. Has a night away from home robbed you of your wits? We want to know where thehellyou were.” His father frowned awfully.
“And who you were with.” His mother wasn’t frowning, but she was giving himthatlook. The one that froze his intestines to this day.
So he laid his hands on the table. He couldn’t prevaricate, or hedge the questions. Prudence was going to be part of his life if he had his way, so announcing afait accompliat this point would be wrong, both to her because she had yet to agree, and to his parents who wouldn’t appreciate being presented with a daughter-in-law without any warning.
“Very well. It all began when I got hit on the head with that branch…”
“I knew it.” His mother flew up from her chair and rushed to Reid. “You’re losing consciousness, aren’t you? Having blackouts? And seeing things? I felt you were acting strangely, darling. Why didn’t you say something?” She cradled his forehead. “Do you have a fever?”
“Mother.” He took her hands and led her back to her chair. “Stop flying into the boughs over my health. I’m quite well.”
She snorted. “That’s yet to be determined.”
“Let the lad talk, Joss. We won’t know anything more than we do now if you keep interrupting.”
Reid shot a glance of gratitude to his father. “To continue, that night in the snow, I met a woman.”
“Aha.” His father looked smug. “Knew there was a female behind it. Didn’t I say so, Joss? Didn’t I?” He poked his wife in the arm.
Lady Jocelyn lifted her nose and sniffed, ignoring her husband’s gloating comment. “Go on, Reid.”
“I met her again the next day, and last night you met her.”
“Lady Eldridge.” His mother tilted her head. “The incredibly beautiful Lady Eldridge. Why did I not see it?”
“Because Reid’s been around plenty of beautiful women,” his father observed. “He’s never disappeared with any of them before.”
“You disappeared withher?”
“Well we didn’t disappear…as in vanish, of course…”
“Reid…” His mother waved her teaspoon threateningly. “If you were an egg I’d have cracked you by now…”
