Now the viscountess drifted to the sculpture of two sheep and a ram grazing on the side of a cliff. She turned her head this way and that, considering the frozen trio with a critical eye.
“Now, this piece reminds me of you, Your Grace,” she said.
Ian could guess, but he wanted to hear her say it. Her back was turned so he made a face at Drew. She closed her eyes briefly, a look that said,I’m sorry, andI told you, andplease let it endall at once.
“In whatwaydoes it remind you of me, I wonder?” He came to stand beside her.
“Well, the sheep, naturally,” she drawled, laughter in her voice.
“The sheep,” he repeated thoughtfully.
“Well, thewool.” A chuckle.
“The wool.”
“That unfortunate business with those wretched little weavers in Dorset? Their complaints and demands and all the unnecessary chain rattling. How noble of you to try to indulge their pathetic complaints. And what a pity they took it so very far. How could you have known? I asked Lord Blicken that very thing,Howcould he have known?”
“Follow the plight of the working classes, do you, my lady? And three years ago, to boot?”
“Oh, well certainly I studied the matter when I learned that my new son-in-law was none other thanThe Shearling Duke.”
Ian bit back a smile.The Shearling Duke.He’d not heard this in a while. She was referencing a political cartoon in which Ian, in the wake of the riots, was depicted as a peasant shepherd with cartoon sheep conspiring against him. For a time, he’d been greeted with heckles of “HisGraaaace, The Shearling Duke,” everywhere he went. It was an expected jeer within the raucous confinesof a boisterous pub, but hearing it from his new mother-in-law in his own home almost made him laugh.
“As duke to an estate that equals roughly a quarter of Dorset,” he said, “those ‘wretched little weavers,’ as you call them,have beenandshall remainmy priority. Along with the farmers, shepherds, tanners, and mill owners who also make their home on my property. As such, I find the title rather fitting. Iamin possession of a great many sheep, among other assets. Anyone opposed to this should embark on a month without wool to keep them warm and lamb to keep them fed. Those of us among the ‘shearling aristocracy’ take our work very seriously and it comes with no small amount of pride.”
“Oh, no doubt, no doubt,” mused Lady Blicken. “But it’s one thing to raise the sheep or wear the wool—Britons have done this for generations, haven’t we?—but quite another tomismanagethe resources so.”
“You have some experience with managing sheep, my lady?” Ian’s patience was running thin. He worked to keep his voice calm, casual.
“Oh no,” she proclaimed, laughing off the notion. “But I’ve long been a student of the harsh judgments that follow a political scandal. You will, no doubt, easily weather the harsh bite of public scorn; but as a mother, I worry for dear Drewsmina. Does she have the backbone to be the ‘Shearling Duchess’? I cannot say. I’ve already alluded to her deep sensitivity. And it’s not as if she allowed Blicken to properly dower her. Why, she wouldn’t even permit us to properly house and clothe her these last few years; she lived with her sister like a poor relation. I raise it only because she is already so ripe for gossip and pity. And this says nothing of your dear nieces and sister. How your reputation may cloud their—”
“Enough!” called Drewsmina from across the room. “Enough. The duke has indulged your petty accusations for long enough. I warn you: Do not to begin with his nieces or sister. If he’ll not take you to task, I will.”
Lady Blicken, her eyes wide with feigned innocence, opened her mouth to protest, but Drew spoke over her. “You’ve other business, I know, Your Grace. Pray let us not detain you.”
“I cannot leave you,” he said. He’d no sooner leave her with a hungry lion.
“You can and you shall. Please. Ultimately, this quarrel is between myself and my mother. Will you excuse us? She will not stay long, I assure you.”
“‘Between myself and my mother,’” repeated Lady Blicken in a mousy voice. “Such dramatics. You were always so dramatic.”
“I cannot leave you,” Ian repeated.
“Please,” Drew said, looking at him plainly. It was the “please” that got to him. Perhaps she needed some reckoning. Perhaps his presence provoked the older woman, and he was making it worse. Perhaps the insults were more deeply wounding when Drew knew he heard them too. He remembered her sending him away when she took Imogene’s rudeness to task. She was thoughtful in that way. And clearly, she’d dealt with this woman before.
“Alright,” he said carefully, holding her gaze. “If that is what you really want.”
“Look at the two of you,” teased Lady Blicken, “with your long gazes and your implorations. And here I thought perhaps some money had changed hands for this very speedy, very ‘private’ union.”
“It is what I want,” Drew whispered to him sadly.
Ian nodded, holding her gaze for a moment more.
He turned to Lady Blicken. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, my lady. Alas, that would be bollocks.”
“I should expect nothing else from a disgraced duke with a batty sister and two—”
“I’ll walk you out, Mother,” Drew cut in loudly. She took her by the arm and began to drag.
