“Who in the world is that?” Drusilla asked.
“It’s not a developer, if that’s your concern,” Rhenick hurried to say. “It’s my mother, Wilhelmine Whittenbecker, who was supposed to wait at the gate until I rode down there to fetch her if I thought you’d be receptive to hearing us out, but who must have been worried that my initial meeting with you wasn’t going well since I’ve left her waiting for quite some time.”
Before he could add any sort of explanation regarding why he and his mother wanted Drusilla to hear them out, the carriage came to a stop, the door swung open, and his mother stepped out, although Wilhelmine hesitated right beside the carriage door, obviously waiting for him to send her some sort of sign that it was safe for her to approach them.
Given the way Drusilla’s eyes had taken to flashing, quite like her mother’s had recently done, he wasn’t completely convinced itwassafe for his mother just yet, which was why he sent Wilhelmine a discreet shake of his head before he redirected his attention to Drusilla, who rose to her feet and took a step closer to him.
“While I was certainly willing, given how you intervened with the ravens on my behalf, to extend you a brief moment to hear what you came to say,” she began, “I’m not certain that’s still the case. You’ve obviously decided to try out somenew tactic in order to get your hands on my land, but if you’ve brought your mother with you so thatshecan attempt to convince me to marry you, know that while I won’t pull a rifle on anyone’s mother, I won’t hesitate to aim another one at you.”
Seventeen
Knowing it would be best all around to make a point of dispelling any theories Drusilla had obviously come up with before someone got shot—not that he could actually blame her for developing theories in the first place since he was a grown man who’d shown up with his mother in tow, and after having botched a marriage proposition no less—Rhenick cleared his throat.
“I know the unexpected appearance of my mother probably looks somewhat suspicious, but it’s not what you think.”
She began tapping a toe against the gravel. “Do tell.”
For the briefest of seconds, he found himself completely distracted from the conversation at hand because his gaze, on its own accord no less, had taken to lingering on Drusilla’s face, the lingering allowing him to realize that there were so many little things he’d missed the first time he’d laid eyes on her—such as the hint of a dimple that was precisely in the middle of her chin, or the way her eyes seemed to be more along the lines of a greenish-blue shade today compared to ...
“So your mother’snothere to broach the subject of marriage?” Drusilla pressed, snapping him from his perusal of her face, although he couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were flashing more intensely than ever, leaving him with the sneakingsuspicion that he might already be making a muddle of things, but it was hardly his fault he found her face so compelling and...
“Your lack of response has left me believing that your motherishere to convince me to marry you, isn’t she?”
Realizing he was definitely floundering, something he’d hoped to avoid this time around with Drusilla, Rhenick summoned up a smile, one that, unfortunately, wasn’t returned. “Perhaps it would be best if I let my mother explain the particulars.” He strode into motion, not stopping until he was directly beside Wilhelmine, who immediately settled a rather pitying look on him.
“Things not going well with Drusilla, dear?” she asked.
“Not going well is an understatement, which is why I’m now going to turn this delicate situation over to you, although be warned—any mention of marriage might put a rapid end to our visit and could very well see a rifle coming into play again, so I’d avoid that word at all costs.”
It spoke volumes about his mother’s no-nonsense attitude when she didn’t bat an eye over what most people would find concerning news, instead sending him a nod before she took hold of his arm and pulled him into motion, reaching Drusilla a moment later.
Wilhelmine immediately dipped into a curtsy that left her knees creaking when she straightened, the creaking a direct result of the fact there weren’t many people she bothered curtsying to and her knees were out of practice. To her credit, though, she ignored the creaking as he introduced her to Drusilla and Irma, Irma taking over the introductions when he reached Drusilla’s sister and realized he had yet to be formally introduced to her.
After presenting Annaliese with a bow, it was a less than encouraging sign when she simply responded with a thinning of her lips, which suggested that she, unlike her mother, didn’ttrust him in the least and probably wouldn’t have any qualms about summoning her ferrets. Before he could think of anything that might soften her opinion of him, though, his mother ever so casually nudged him aside, then inserted herself between him and Drusilla’s sister.
“Now that we’ve gotten introductions out of the way,” Wilhelmine began, “it would probably be for the best if I got right down to why we’re here since...” She abruptly stopped talking as her gaze settled on Drusilla. “Good heavens, Miss Merriweather, here we are, standing around chatting as if we’re at some type of social event when you’re bleeding from the head.”
Before Drusilla could say more than “raven attack,” Wilhelmine whipped a clean handkerchief from her sleeve and immediately took to dabbing Drusilla’s forehead with it.
“I’ve never heard of an attack by raven before, but how unfortunate that you’d suffer such a thing upon your arrival in Chicago, which probably hasn’t left you with a favorable impression of our city,” Wilhelmine said, moving Drusilla’s head to the right before she frowned. “However, you have more than a few wounds that need to be properly attended to, which is why I’m going to suggest we put all talk of what Rhenick and I are doing here on hold until after we get you inside and cleaned up.”
Even though Drusilla was looking a tad bewildered, probably because a woman she’d just met was now trying to rub what appeared to be a particularly stubborn smear of blood mixed with soot from her cheek, she smiled. “While I appreciate your concern, I’m afraid it’s not safe for us to move inside just yet since I’m relatively sure there are some ravens still running amok in there.”
Whatever else she’d been about to say got lost when Wilhelmine turned her attention to a stubborn streak of soot that was marring her forehead, the effort with which his mother was now scrubbing at the streak leaving Drusilla wincing as she shot him a look that begged for an intervention.
He fought a smile and cleared his throat instead, which drew his mother’s attention and earned Drusilla a reprieve from the scrubbing.
“Perhaps we should take our leave, Mother, and come back another day when Miss Merriweather hasn’t experienced an unfortunate encounter with aggressive birds.”
Wilhelmine waved that straight aside. “We can’t leave this poor dear here with ravens on the loose and a head that’s all pecked up. We need to sort those issues out for her, but before you go off to chase any lingering ravens out of the castle, be a dear and fetch my medical basket from the carriage.”
The urge to argue was immediate, but since his mother was now sporting what his father always referred to as her stubborn look—an expression that usually meant anyone idiotic enough to argue with her was in for a rough time of it—Rhenick settled for sending her a nod before he headed for the carriage.
It came as no surprise when he had to burrow his way through abandoned slippers, hats, and numerous books littering the floor before he located the basket, but it was a surprise when he started walking back to rejoin the ladies and discovered Annaliese sprinting around the side of the castle, calling something about needing to catch Pippin before another rat got left as a present.
“Should I assume Pippin is one of Annaliese’s ferrets?” he asked, handing his mother the basket and earning a rather dramatic sigh from Irma in return.
“She is,” Irma said. “Unfortunately for me, though, Pippin enjoys bringing me all sorts of surprises.”
