A glance at the clock made him curse under his breath. Nearly eight. He pulled on pale grey trousers, a high-necked shirt and a simple silk cravat. He would reach the breakfast room before Evelyn. He must. He would not leave her alone to face his mother’s disapproval.
He hurried downstairs.
“...and I shall be checking the silverware today,” his mother was announcing as he approached. He tensed, pausing at the doorway.
“Mama, I can do that,” Gemma offered.
“Whyshouldyou? It is the Duchess of Brentfield who ought to see to it. Not the Countess of Chelmsworth. Though I daresay the new one will not trouble herself.” She sniffed sharply.
Sebastian entered. Even his imposing height did nothing to quell her when she was in this mood.
“Good morning,” he said evenly.
Gemma returned the greeting with warmth and reached for the teapot. “Tea, brother?”
“Yes, thank you.” He managed a grateful smile. She was trying to keep the peace as always.
Nicholas greeted him; William nodded over his newspaper. Sebastian wished he could hide behind it as well, but there was only one copy, and he would not ask for it.
“Did you see the article?” Mama demanded, tapping the paper. “Lord and Lady Carlington will be in the countryside soon, and Lady Belinda with them. Nowthereis a fine young woman. The Diamond of the Season, they say. Afinelady.”
Sebastian winced. His mother’s longstanding fantasy—that he ought to have married Lady Belinda—was as persistent as it was irrational. Lady Belinda was polite, pretty, and entirely uninterested in him. He had returned the sentiment gratefully. Yet his mother clung to the idea with a stubbornness he could only attribute to nostalgia for her own youth.
“Mama? Has theLadies’ Gazettearrived?” Gemma asked brightly—too brightly. She was trying to divert the conversation before the familiar argument began.
“No. Not yet,” their mother replied, affronted. “We shall have to wait to see the new illustrations for hairstyles.”
“A pity,” Gemma murmured.
Sebastian smiled at her. She had no real interest in theGazette; she was only rescuing him yet again.
A soft step in the hallway made him look up sharply.
Evelyn stood at the doorway, hesitant, almost shrinking. She wore a blue-and-white muslin gown that must have been part of her modest wardrobe; it fitted a touch tightly across her bodice, drawing his eye before he forced it away. Her hair was tied with a matching ribbon. She looked pale. Frightened.
He rose at once. William and Nicholas followed suit.
“Come in,” Sebastian said gently, going to her and taking her hand. She stepped inside, still uncertain, and followed him to the empty seat beside his own. He ignored his mother’s glacial expression.
Gemma smiled kindly. “Some tea?”
“Bread?” Nicholas said at the same instant, already offering the basket. “Or do you prefer toast?”
“Um…toast. Yes—thank you,” Evelyn said.
Sebastian’s throat tightened—not with irritation, but with gratitude. Gemma and Nicholas were trying so hard it verged on overwhelming her, yet their intentions were good.
Gemma poured her tea. Nicholas returned the breadbasket and took a pastry, crunching into it. Normally, Sebastian would not notice such a sound, but tension sharpened everything this morning.
“We plan to ride later,” Gemma said pleasantly. “Do you ride, your Grace?” she asked Evelyn.
Across the table, Mama emitted a derisive little sound.
Sebastian stiffened.Enough.Just because Evelyn came from reduced circumstances did not mean she lacked accomplishments. For all his mother knew, Evelyn might have spent her entire youth on horseback. Many country families did.
“Did you have horses?” he asked Evelyn gently.
She inclined her head. “When I was a little girl, I learned to ride.” Her gaze flicked to Gemma—tentative, hopeful.
