“If I have anything to say about it he will.If he tries to leave early, I’ll cry.”
“You never cry.”
“I can summon tears upon occasion.I managed to squeeze out a few when I sent Lucien off to find James.”
“And he believed you.”
“He loves me,” Miranda said simply.“If I feel strongly enough to fake tears then he knows it’s important.He won’t come back without him.”
“Splendid,” said Emma with a fixed smile.“It will be wonderful to see him.”
Brat decidedto count his blessings, of which there were few.He was being forced to attend the Christmas festivities at the lake house, surrounded by his revoltingly happy aunts and uncles and his equally enamored parents, he’d be besieged by importunate children, and he’d be forced to attend neighborhood gatherings and flirt with vapid young women and dance with clod-footed country girls.He would have no outlet for his prodigious sexual drive, but then, that would be no different in in the city.He’d dismissed his latest mistress with suitably expensive gifts, and he’d had yet to choose another, so it wasn’t as if there was blessed surcease waiting for him back in London.His father’s carriage was beautifully sprung, the squabs rich velvet, the animal throws warm and comfortable.Unfortunately, comfort had never been one of his main needs.Neither had filial obedience.There was no escaping the fact that this was a command performance, and he would have to be on his best behavior, which was equivalent to that of a great white shark.He didn’t wish to punish his mother for insisting he come back—he loved her, as much as he loved anyone in this world.But she was going to regret dragging him into this family reunion.
They’d driven north very fast, another mixed blessing.Travel was tedious, but it brought him to his destination more swiftly, and to say he wasn’t looking forward to it was an understatement of colossal proportions.The very thought turned his sour mood into one of bleak, black despair.He couldn’t be completely unpleasant to all around him, but he could come close.
Even for his mother he couldn’t tolerate this.He would arrive, be his charming self, visit with his mother, and then make his escape, much to the relief of the assembled family, promising to come back in the new year for time with his parents and countless siblings.He could behave just badly enough that his mother would be happy to see him go.
“What evil plans are you hatching?”Lucien demanded sleepily from his seat opposite him.
“Why should my plans necessarily be evil?”he countered.
“Because you’re my son.”
“I simply intend to be my usual, lovable self for the next week.”His voice was dulcet.
Lucien closed his eyes in pain.“God help us all.”
“You can drop me at the next posting house and I’ll arrange transportation home.”
“You’ll behave yourself like a gentleman.At least, I hope you still are one,” his father snapped.
“The perfect gentleman,” Brat said, an evil smile on his face.“Tell me, are Charles’s two daughters suitably nubile yet?Last time I saw them, they were beset with baby fat and spots.Are they any more presentable?While I disapprove of cousins marrying, I’m not averse to a flirtation.”
“Fortunately, Charles and Annis are not coming.”
“Thank God for small favors,” Brat said piously.
“And they still have a governess, according to Charles, who has had the temerity to give her notice.Charles wanted me to recommend a new one.”
“I would think they wouldn’t be as exacting in their demands as we were.After all, I have seven siblings, each one worse than the previous one.”
“Except you’re the worst of all.”
“Father, you wound me.”
Lucien snorted.“At least Charles won’t be around to lecture you on the error of your ways.Damned prosy old bore, Charles is, and always has been.”
“I could have kept him entertained.”
“The rest of us don’t need to hear his opinion of your abominable manners.”
“Only abominable when I care to make them so,” Brat said.
“Really?I assumed it was when you couldn’t be bothered to be polite.”
“Oh, being polite is a great deal easier than being truly insulting.It’s a rare gift I’ve cultivated over the years.”
His father just looked at him, and Brat had the vain hope that he’d changed his mind.But his mother’s wishes, and tears, held sway.“God help us all,” Lucien murmured, and it sounded like a prayer.
