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Ina and Gavin exchanged a glance.

“The deal won’t fall apart,” said Gavin.

“Of course it will,” his mother shot over her shoulder, leading them into a west-facing drawing room that still had some of the last rays of daylight. “There’s no one to broker it.”

Gavin clenched his jaw. “I’ll broker the deal. But that’s not important right now. We have other arrangements to make.”

His mother turned sharply. “No matter what, an estate this size always requires attention and care. There’s no stopping, even for grief. You’d understand that if you possessed even an ounce of your brother’s head for business.”

“I’m fully capable,” Gavin said, his tone clipped.

The tension in the room was palpable as mother and son stared at each other, neither willing to move. Grace, beautiful and reserved, stood with her hands folded in front of her, her eyes fixed on the intricate pattern of the rug as though she wished herself a million miles away.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Ina said, “Perhaps we might retire to our rooms before supper? The roads were dusty after Newcastle.”

“I’ll show you where you’ll be staying,” said Grace. “It’s not so far from the baronet’s bedroom.”

“Not so far?” asked Gavin. “The baronet’s wife’s rooms are connected to mine unless you’ve remodeled.”

“Lady Barrett will take rooms in the west wing,” said Lady Sophia.

“It’s pretty this time of day,” Grace offered. “You can see the sea from some of the windows.”

“Why would Ina not take your rooms, Mother?” he asked. “You’ll no doubt be removing yourself to the dower house, where you’ll be more comfortable.”

An appalled silence fell over the room as his mother leveled a stony gaze at him. “Are you suggesting that I be evicted from my rooms while I’m in the depths of grieving for my husband and my son?”

A hardness Ina had never seen in him before fell over Gavin’s expression. “Didn’t you just say that we must not stop, even for grief?”

“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to move at a time like this,” Ina said, inserting herself in the conversation to try to calm some of the crackling tension before it exploded. “Of course you should have your rooms for a while longer.”

The dowager’s expression was so sour she might as well have sucked on a basket of lemons. “Thank you for giving me permission to arrange my own household.”

Ina couldn’t resist raising an eyebrow. She understood that mourning was a difficult time and could manifest in different ways, but Lady Sophia’s hostility was unwarranted.

“Careful, Mother,” Gavin warned, his voice low. “You don’t want to find yourself without a home.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” gasped Lady Sophia.

“Do you really want to test me? Your unreliable, unpredictable son?” he asked.

“Think of the scandal casting your own mother out would cause,” said his mother.

Ina sought Gavin’s hand, threading her fingers through his. “We’ve grown rather fond of flirting with scandal, actually.”

He gave a half smile and squeezed her hand.

“The maids will need at least a week to remove my things to the dower house,” said his mother.

“A week should suit me just fine,” said Ina, her tone considerably frostier than before.

“Until then, I will join my wife in the west wing,” said Gavin. “I’ll negotiate a move to the baronet’s suite at a later date if it’s necessary.”

Lady Sophia’s mouth twisted as she chewed on whatever insult she was about to hurl at them. Instead, the lady drew herself up to her full height. “Supper will be served at eight without delay.”

Gavin’s mother turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

Grace trailed behind her like a shadow but paused in the doorway. “You don’t know what you’ve done. She’ll be a nightmare for days.”