He blinked, completely confused. One moment she wished him with the devil, and the next, she demanded his attendance at his next meal? “I…If that is what you wish, then, of course, I shall be here for tea.”
“Swear it,” she ordered. “I know you have never gone back on your word.”
That wasn’t true. He’d never purposefully failed, but promises in war are often broken. Especially those made to men about to go into battle. “I swear I will be here, provided my other responsibilities do not claim me first.” And when she looked at him askance, he huffed out a breath. “Mother, I am in the middle of important matters.”
She waved them away. “I should be one of your important matters.”
He swallowed away a caustic retort. After all, he had asked for her help. She could have refused him. But that didn’t mean he would give her the satisfaction of saying something untrue. He would do his best to attend tea. That was all. In the end, she pursed her lips and nodded.
“Give me a moment to dress, and then I will accompany you to Bond Street.”
He smiled and bowed, already itching to be away. He didn’t like the idea that his mother would stand with him at a tailor’s as if he were a boy still in leading strings. But he had started on this path and would see it through, even if it made him feel like a humiliated child.
It didn’t. And what a shock that was!
Several hours later, he was stunned to realize that his mother knew how to shop for a man. She knew how to speak to a tailor with utmost efficiency, explaining things he could only guess at. She picked patterns that gave him freedom of movement and no hint of foppery. And best of all, while he was being measured from top to bottom, she faded away to discuss fabric and buttons, such that she was not even in the same room with him.
It allowed him to breathe and proceed with the task without wanting to hit someone. A miracle, indeed. Still, it was an exhausting morning after a long night. If he hadn’t promised to dine with her, he would have made his excuses and sought his bed. But he had promised, and so he nodded wearily when his mother tapped her watch and declared it time to return home. Though, he did offer her an out.
“I woke you early, Mother. Perhaps you would prefer to rest today, and we can dine tomorrow.”
The stare she gave him was so cold, she nearly froze his toes. “You promised.”
“And I am not going back on that promise. I was simply offering—”
“No. Today.”
Very well, then.He bit his lip and resolved to endure more time with his irrational parent. Or maybe not so irrational, because the reason for her demand became clear the moment he stepped into his parents’ house.
“Diana?” he gasped. “Whatever are you doing here?”
She looked up from where she was drinking tea in the parlor. She was dressed in mourning, the unrelieved black doing little favor to her already pale complexion, and yet he found her stunningly beautiful. She straightened immediately, her movements graceful even as she stepped out into the hallway to curtsey to his mother.
“Lady Wolvesmead, thank you for the invitation.”
“Lady Dunnamore,” his mother returned. “I apologize that I was not at my best the last time we met.” A vast understatement given that his mother had entered Diana’s home screaming upon seeing Lucas alive.
“Totally understandable,” Diana returned. Then she looked at Lucas. “You seem surprised. I thought you wanted me here for some reason.”
He had wanted her safely away from his poisonous mother, but apparently, something had gone amiss.
“I sent the invitation,” his mother stated flatly. Then she pursed her lips. “Prattling about in the doorway is uncivilized. The meal should be served forthwith.” She looked at her butler. “Show them into the parlor while I go repair my attire.” Then she turned and climbed the stairs without even glancing back at them.
Lucas watched her go, then gave Diana an exasperated look. “It’s been a trying morning,” he said by way of explanation.
“That sounds interesting. Do give me all the details.”
He didn’t answer. They were being escorted into the parlor, which was a bare three steps away. They could have walked themselves there, but his mother—and her butlers—were always ones for ceremony. “Where is your guard? He was supposed to watch you.”
“He came with me, as well as two others. Last I saw they went belowstairs to oversee the preparation of the meal.”
Given that Lord Dunnamore had been poisoned, the precautions were necessary. As was the fact that he now saw his man gesture to him through the window before slipping out of sight. The guard was probably watching the perimeter.
“Why does your mother want me here?”
Lucas shrugged. “I cannot understand the woman.”
Diana raised her brows. “Is that a new shirt? And your hair has been cut. Sweet heaven, those are new shoes. Has your mother replaced my disreputable Mr. Lucifer with a respectable Lord Chellam? I am shocked.”
