REQUESTS ARE MADE
The following day, Saturday, March 30, 1839, Aimsley House
Knowing his mother usually wrote her correspondence in the early morning hours before breakfast, Anthony rose early and dressed. He allowed his father’s valet to shave him and then made his way to her small salon on the second floor.
Not wanting to startle the countess, he tapped the dark wood door with the back of his knuckles.
Diana glanced up, a smile lighting her face when she realized it was Anthony who stood in the open doorway and not the butler. “Do come in. You’re saving me from having to respond to yet another invitation,” she said as she indicated a pile of open notes on a silver salver.
“Thank you, Mother,” he said as he nodded and then stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Inhaling to speak, he didn’t when her eyes suddenly rounded.
“Oh, dear. Whatever has you looking as if you’re about to be executed?” Diana asked in a hoarse whisper.
Anthony’s eyes darted sideways. “Although I don’t believe entering into a marriage is quite so odious, I probably do appear apprehensive.” He rolled his eyes. “I feel apprehensive.”
Diana stared at him. “Did you propose to Lady Dahlia again?”
Dipping his head, Anthony said, “I will try again during the garden party today. I fear I may have bungled my chance with her yesterday, but that’s not why I’m here.”
Reeling from learning he had already proposed, Diana motioned him to the only other chair in the salon. “Tell me,” she ordered.
“It’s more of a request, really. I wondered... if I do marry, I understand I should probably continue living here at Aimsley House—”
“Of course, you will,” Diana agreed. “You’ll move into the late earl’s apartments here on the second floor,” she added.
Anthony gave a start. “What about grandmama?”
Diana inhaled softly. “Patience has informed me that she’s moving to the townhouse in Brighton—”
“Brighton?”
She nodded. “She has friends there. Other widows who apparently enjoy the sea air and who like the entertainments offered at the palace. I think she also likes that it’s so much closer to France.” Pausing a moment, Diana chuckled. “I really don’t expect her to stay long in any one place. Ever since she gave upThe Tattler, she’s at loose ends. I’m of the opinion she might start a gossip rag down there, in fact. For something to do.”
“Oh, dear,” Anthony murmured, failing to hide his humor. One good thing about being related to the gossip maven of Mayfair meant his name never appeared inThe Tattlerother than in a complimentary manner, but now that she wasn’t its secret editor, he would be as vulnerable as any other member of thetonwhen it came to the subjects of the gossip rag’s weekly articles.
“You’re welcome to move into the apartments as soon as you’d like,” Diana said. “In fact, you should invite Lady Dahlia for dinner tonight. Take her on a tour. Although she won’t have the household to run on her own until after I’m gone, at least she can be sure she’ll have some rooms of her own. Privacy. We can even see to a lady’s maid for her if she doesn’t have one.”
Anthony stared at his mother for several seconds, stunned at how quickly she had provided a solution to his concern. “She may turn me down,” he warned, not adding ‘again,’ although he was tempted. If he’d been entirely sane, he would give up his quest of Dahlia and turn his attentions to other more willing young ladies.
Diana winced. “She cannot,” she replied. “She must marry you.”
Anthony grinned at hearing her comment. “I know you hold me in high regard—you have to because you’re my mother—but I’m not yet sure about Davy’s feelings on the matter.”
“Shewillmarry you,” his mother insisted. “If she doesn’t, you’ll end up with some insipid miss you’ll regret for the rest of your life, father an heir and a spare, and then take a mistress so you don’t have to listen to your wife complain about the cook and the housekeeper while she tups the footman.”
Anthony reared back at hearing her possible future for him. “Mother,” he scolded softly.
“Oh, don’t you ‘mother’ me,” she warned.
He stared at her. “That didn’t happen to you and father,” he countered, remembering how she had described their original meeting. For as long as he could remember, his parents had always been a loving couple. But perhaps something had happened while he and Andrew were away at school. “Did it?”
“Of course not,” Diana stated, obviously offended he would think such a thing. “But it has happened to others. Your grandmama wrote those very words inThe Tattlermore times than I can count.”
Feeling profound relief, Anthony patted a hand on his chest. “Apologies,” he murmured.
Diana regarded him with a wistful smile for a moment. “You could just ruin her,” she whispered. “Her mother wouldn’t mind a bit.”
“Mother!”
