Catherine opens her mouth, unsure of exactly what Mother’s referring to. Somethingworsethan being ravished in public, unmarried, unbetrothed?
Mother lets out a watery giggle. “Oh, darling, I love that you’re still so innocent.”
Catherine snaps her mouth shut. She’s sure there are things about carnality that she still doesn’t know. Particularly with a man, she supposes. But sheknows.
But that’s not important now.
“I’m worldly,” she says, putting a little extra whine in her voice to make Mother laugh again.
“You are,” Mother agrees, looking a smidge put back together.
Catherine smiles. “And because I am worldly, I know that the people who actually matter and care about you won’t care a whit that Lord Dean is an uncouth blabbermouth.”
“You’re right,” Mother says, tugging on Catherine’s hands to pull her in for a quick hug. “Let’s go home to your father, let him tell you all about how he nearly punched a man for saying something similar about a year after we got married.”
“Fatherwhat?” Catherine asks loudly.
Mother laughs, stepping back to lead Catherine down the stairs to the street.
“Who was it?” Catherine asks as they reach the courtyard and start walking back toward home.
“Some second son of a second son passing through on his way north. They met at the tavern. Said your father was lucky to have gotten the spoiled fruit from a titled tree.”
“He did not,” Catherine says, aghast.
“Your father popped him one, sent him crashing over the bar, and everyone cheered.”
“I miss home,” Catherine admits, thinking of their rowdy local tavern, full of quarry workers with good hearts.
“I do too,” Mother admits. “But we’ve—well, today not withstanding—we’ve been doing well here.”
“We have,” Catherine agrees. “Do you think Father will go over there and punch Lord Dean?”
Mother laughs, the sounding ringing around them. It makes Catherine’s shoulders come down just a hair. Even if she couldn’t prevent the humiliation, at least she can help cheer her up.
“I’ll have to persuade him against it. I am sorry, though,” she adds, squeezing Catherine’s hand.
“For what?”
“Well, Lord Dean remembering nothing about our family other than my... supposed indiscretion might make it harder—”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care,” Catherine says, trying not to sound too eager.
“Darling—”
“Anyone who judges you based on something someone said happened twenty-five years ago isn’t someone I want to marry, or be related to by marriage.”
She said it.She actually said it.
“Just wait until the ton sees our tea. Everyone will forget all about him because they’ll be so impressed by your hosting skills,” she continues, her whole body feeling lighter.
Mother laughs softly. “If you say so.”
“I do,” Catherine says, watching the way Mother’s shoulders roll back, the way she carries herself just a little taller than before. “We’ll show them yet.”
“We will,” Mother agrees, pulling her hand up to tuck their arms together again. “You’re right. We can make sure they all forget prior scandals by throwing the best tea they’ve ever seen.”
“Hear, hear,” Catherine enthuses, a warmth flooding through her chest. Mother sounds like she used to, back home. Bright, and cheerful, and hopeful.
