Honora snorted. “Which I am sure that my nephew had everything to do with. He always was lacking in imagination, wasn’t he?” She made sure to wink, just as she made sure that Christopher saw it.
“So, you were close to Christopher as a child?” Rose asked, sensing her chance.
“Very,” Honora said rightly. “Like that of a mother, just about.”
“Honora…” Christopher looked at her with warning.
“What?” Honora asked. “She asked, and I answered.” She shook her head and then leaned across the table toward Rose, purposefully cutting Christopher out. “You are likely wondering why Christopher is such a…” She clicked her tongue. “Grump.”
Rose laughed, and Christopher groaned.
“It was his father,” she said. “My brother. A wonderful man, and do not let anyone tell you differently. But he is much like Christopher in temperament and nature. Truly, the two are spitting images of one another…” She looked at Christopher and smiled. “Which is why I have always had such a soft spot for him, I suppose.”
“I am to assume that Christopher was a child of little humor then?” Rose asked lightly, making sure to grin at Christopher, who was looking more uncomfortable by the second.
“Not always,” Honora said. “In truth, as a child, he was rather buoyant. Free-spirited and even fun, if you can believe it. Alas, all boys must grow into men, and it was around the time that puberty struck when he became a real stick in the mud.”
Rose burst into laughter, and even more so when she saw Christopher squirm.
Supper was a revealing experience to say the least. Throughout, Honora spoke freely of Christopher and his father, happy to regale them both with tales from the Duke’s childhood. Some were embarrassing. Some were in appraisement. And many seemed designed specifically to try and get a response out of Christopher.
As she listened, Rose took note of her husband and how he was reacting to all of this.
Before they had arrived, Rose had wondered if she might be treated tonight to the other side of her husband, the one that was slowly coming to the fore, the more comfortable he grew around her—that which laughed and made jokes and could poke fun at himself.
Instead, Rose was disappointed to see Christopher revert to his old self. He was serious and no-nonsense. He was stern and judgmental. And most of all, he was awkward and careful, saying little but watching his aunt closely, always ready to jump in when he feared she would go too far.
“I often wonder what might have happened if his mother had not passed,” Honora said at one point, sighing with a sense of sadness.
“What was she like?” Rose asked.
“Oh, she was –”
Christopher cleared his throat and raised a warning eyebrow at Honora. Honor frowned in argument, Christopher continued to watch her warningly, and Honora sighed and shook her head.
“She was lovely,” was what she ended up saying. “A true gem.” Once that was said, the topic of Christopher’s mother was not raised again.
After supper, Honora announced that she was giving them a tour of the manor. Christopher sighed and moaned about it, as he had been here a hundred times, but Honora ignored him. She took Rose by the hand, and the two walked out in front as she led her through the halls.
Mostly, the tour brought few revelations. But that changed when they entered the main drawing room.
“Ah, here it is!” Honora led Rose toward the back wall, and she beamed as she showed off a family portrait hanging above the fireplace. “What do you think?”
Rose frowned, not entirely certain what she was supposed to say. “It is… lovely work.”
Honora snorted. “I take it you do not recognize the muse?”
“The muse…” Rose furrowed her brow and looked closer at the portrait. It was of three people: a brooding male, a plain-looking woman, and a young boy of about eight.
The brooding male was the one who took Rose’s attention at first. There was something familiar about the man, in particular his eyes; they were grey colored, cold, and emotionally distant. Next, she looked at the young boy, and that was when she realized who he was.
“Oh!” Her eyes widened. “Christopher! It’s you!” She spun about, smiling broadly, expecting Christopher to be at the very least smirking to see her so happy. Instead, he almost looked ill.
“It is,” he said.
“As you can see, little has changed,” Honora said. “A grump then, and a grump today. You see his father…” She pointed to the brooding male standing behind the younger Christopher. “You can see where he gets it from.”
Rose laughed. “I do. And this must be your mother…” She stepped in closer, eyes narrowing on the plain woman who stood by Christopher’s father. “She is… I guess I can see the resemblance.” Rose frowned as her eyes flicked from the womanto Christopher. “You have the same chin… but her hair is lighter, as are her eyes.”
