“Ouch!” hissed Lady Blicken. “You violate me with your mannish hands, youtowerover me.”
Drew looked over her shoulder at him once more, her face very sad and very tired and very grave. Ian squinted back in disbelief. Drew had not been exaggerating, not even a little.
Lady Blicken had yanked her arm from Drew’s grasp but continued to walk. Drew followed behind her, her hands clamped behind her back, her head bowed, like a monk.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Drewsmina Trelayne’s Rule of Style and Comportment #7: Troublesome guests, no matter how tedious or boorish, can be tolerated for the short length of a morning call. In the end, it’s less effort to bite your tongue and nod along than to make excuses or be unpleasant.
“No,” Drew snapped, “notthat way. To the door, Mother. The call has come to an unregrettable end.”
“I’m expected to find my way out, am I? Some expert on manners you’ve proven yourself to be.”
“My manners are not on display at the moment, it is my restraint.”
“Oh yes, your precious restraint. Well. Do keep in mind that few people can hide their true natures forever. Perhaps you’ve managed to deceive the duke, but he’ll eventually see the truth.”
Do not ask, do not ask, do not ask, Drew ordered herself.
“And which truth would that be?” Drew huffed. There were too many perceived “truths” to be seen.
“Oh, Drewsmina,” sighed her mother. “You’ll not trick me into speaking against you. It only makes you feel sorry for yourself. And I won’t be blamed for that. I meant to teach you confidence, if nothing else.”
“Come now,” urged Drewsmina, striding toward the door. She could see it. So close. Almost in reach. The old hurt and desperation nipped at her heals, causing her to clomp instead of walk. Pain and defeat burned down her throat and into her gut like a hot coal on a soft rug, singeing a hole ringed in black. She struggled to breathe. Her voice grew louder. Her eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched. “Let us not feign niceties at this very late date.”
“I’ve not come tofeignanything, darling, I’ve come tocongratulateyou. You’ve done it, Drewsmina. Aduchess? Against all odds. And seemingly without my help.”
Drew would have laughed at this if her throat were not so very tight. She mustn’t respond. Every response was mined for weakness and potential exploitation. She must be a blank page.
Her mother continued, “Although doubtful you’ve done it entirely on your own. Thatimposterin Kew Palace had something to do with it, I dare say. I shudder to think of your debt to her now.”
They finally reached the front door, which was flanked by two footmen.
“Lady Blicken’s things,” Drew snapped to the servants, hating her rudeness, hating everything about this moment. Thank God she’d sent everyone away. Her mother caught up, and Drew wrenched open the door. Weak morning sunlight and cold air filled the space between them.
“What I wish Iknew...” said her mother lightly, glancing around, “what wouldassist meas I curtail gossip about you all over town, is,why the haste? Why the secrecy? ’Tis a vain hope, I suppose, that you’ll confide in me.”
“Yes,” said Drew. “Very vain.”
“Not even to protect those nieces of his? I can only assume they are now under your care.”
“Lachlan’s nieces are none of your concern.”
“They’ve been the concern of nobody for quite some time, haven’t they? My God—that baroness? Their mother?” She made an exaggerated face that said,Spare me.
“Good-bye, Mother,” Drew said. A footman had returned with her wrap and umbrella. Betina shouldered into her cloak, flashing a sensual smile to the young servant. Drew’s stomach turned.
“I only raise it,” her mother whispered, “because there will be talk—the chatter, in fact, has already begun. The duke made no effort to restore his reputation after the riots, his sister is clearlymad, and his nieces are rumored to be barely fit for decent company. And now he’s married? To...you?” She looked Drewsmina up and down, her disgusted gaze as familiar as a stomachache. Drew fought the urge to slump.
“And all in a matter of days?” her mother continued. “Let me help you. Tell me what I can say.”
“You can say that you have no idea, which is the truth, for once. Pray,leave us alone. If ever you cared for me. If ever you wanted me to be happy, even for a second.”
“But are you happy, Drewsmina?” she challenged softly.
“In this precise moment? No, I’m not. In general, I am very happy.” Drew said the words, not really knowing if they were true. It was always this way with her mother. She must portray the best possible result simply to counter her mother’s doomsday predictions. It made Drew feel like a liar, whether things were, in fact, the best or the worst or anything in between. To forever project hopefulness made her suspicious ofactualhope. It was one of the many, many soul-destroying tactics in her mother’s terrible bag of tricks.
“Well, good for you, Miss Duchess,” her mother mocked. “See that you don’t allow all of it to crumble. It’s one thing to marry, another toremainmarried.”
