She didn’t.
Instead she took the chair in front of his desk.
Gavin wanted to ignore her. He also knew she wouldn’t let him.
“Why have you made this decision?”
Because I’ve lost the only person who means anything to me, Gavin almost responded, but didn’t. “I do not have time.”
“Yes, but I imagine you have time for the theater this evening. Isn’t tonight the opening of your paramour’s play? Oh, don’t look so surprised. Of course I know this. All of London is gossiping about it. Did you truly imagine I would not know of your involvement? I’ve received more questions than you can imagine about this play. Eyebrows have been raised. Not just about this woman being your mistress but that you are supporting her play.”
“And why is that? Do they not think a play is a wise investment?”
“Do you?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. Mrs. Pettijohn is very talented. It has been my honor and privilege to support her.”
“Baynton, it is not done. A woman is not a theater manager.”
“This one is.” He picked up his drink.
The dowager eyed him in the way only a mother could. “You are done with her, aren’t you?”
Gavin set the whisky down without a taste. “Actually, she is done with me.”
His mother’s chin lifted in affront. “Done with you? Is she mad?”
“She may well be the sanest person I know.”
He could feel her scrutiny as if she weighed his words for what he had not said. In that moment, Gavin could look anywhere save his mother’s eyes. He would be a disappointment to her. He knew her thinking. And yet, God help him, his heart was broken.
Yes, his heart. He’d often wondered if he had one. While other men did fanciful and foolish things over women, Gavin had focused on duty and responsibility. He’d thought those men deluded for their lack of sound reason.
Now Gavin wished he was not so responsible, so chained to family honor and expectations.
His mother rose majestically to her feet. “I shall go with you this evening.”
“You don’t like the theater.”
“I do not, save for the occasional Shakespeare. However, this play is your investment. And you are my son. I consider it a show of family solidarity.”
“There is no need for that.”
“Then understand I need to be there this evening.”
“For what reason?” he asked carefully.
“My own purpose. We women have a feeling about these things. Imogen will also attend. You may need the two of us.”
“Lest I do something foolish? I told you—”
“We will be there, Baynton.” And with that, she sailed from the room.
Chapter Nineteen
Sarah woke with a groggy brain and with eyes so swollen they hurt to open.
Today her play opened. She’d dreamed of this day, worked for it—and instead of elation, she looked to the empty side of her bed and didn’t know if she could move.
