With the walls closing in around him, Hunt stared at his foot. He couldn’t allow this damned injury to curtail his efforts at courting her. He’d either convince Allison to marry him or…
Suffer the consequences.
He exhaled a long breath. He had made financial provisions, of course, for his mother and his sisters, but if his father’s treachery became public, they’d suffer anyway.
His father had hidden the extent of his debauchery from his mother all this time. It was ironic that only the innocent left behind would be punished.
How would his mother endure it?
As though he’d summoned her by his thoughts, the door opened, and her concerned gaze met his.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping.” She stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind her. Then, with a glance at the mostly full glass on the table, she tutted her tongue. “I ought to have known you’d disregard Dr. Haversham’s orders.”
But then she moved around the footstool, pausing to adjust the pillows and the blanket. “I’ll have tea sent up, darling. You must be devastated to miss spending time with your Miss Meadowbrook, you poor dear. When you first informed me of your agreement with her father, I must admit I had doubts, but upon better acquaintance, I rather like her. She’ll make for an excellent countess. Her poise surprises me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was raised in an aristocratic household.”
“She has yet to agree to the engagement.” Emerson managed to feel like a sullen boy as he grumbled his protest.
His mother was aware that they faced financial troubles—but not the extent, nor the nature of them.
“She will. Give her time, love.” His mother sat beside him, and as though sensing his pounding head, she smoothed her hand over his hair.
Her nurturing, which was meant to be comforting, only heightened his need to protect her.
“Only a fool would refuse you,” she added.
Hunt was a grown man, for Christ’s sake. But rather than shrug off his mother’s hand, he closed his eyes.
Damn you, father.
Before this mess, Hunt had been living a perfectly satisfying life, following his pursuits, an active member of The Society.
“Even your grandmother approves of her.”
Keeping his eyes closed, he raised his brows. Because Grandmother’s approval was somewhat of a miracle.
“I don’t know, Mother,” he mumbled, surrounded by the familiar scent of her perfume. “Miss Meadowbrook has been fairly consistent in her refusals.”
Was it possible this was some sort of feminine obstinance that he, as a male, was destined never to understand?
He had prematurely breathed a sigh of relief the day he’d signed that contract with her father. Not only would the dowry satisfy Malum’s demands, but he could use the connection with Meadowbrook’s company to build a better future for his family and the tenants who’d partnered with the Hardwoods for generations.
“My sweet boy, you worry too much.” His mother rose. “I’ll keep her busy, and rest assured your sisters are making certain that she feels right at home. I’ve no doubt she’ll be chomping at the bit to accept you once you’re on your feet again.”
Hunt was going to be on his feet again tomorrow. He couldn’t afford to lie around his chamber.
“Will you do one thing for me, Mother, before going back down?”
She stopped and turned around, her gown swishing as she did so. “Anything, darling.”
Hunt pointed toward his cabinet. “Bring over that bottle of scotch?”
“Except that.” She laughed. “Take your medicine.” She indicated the glass of sleeping drought. “I’ll send Mr. Evans up to assist you into bed.”
Evans could be as stubborn as his mother at times—worse in fact—which was probably why his mother had invoked his name into this discussion.
“No need for that.” And then, knowing his mother only meant to be helpful, he took a sip from the glass beside him and frowned at the taste. “Tea will be most appreciated.”
Even as he heard the door click closed, Hunt slouched down and closed his eyes. Allison’s mouth, of course, came to mind. And the twin dimples that danced just above the corners.
