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He scoffed at that. “Now I know you’re lying to me.”

“I never wanted you to be your brother, because you couldn’t be. There was to be one heir to Oak Park. One son to inherit. Your father didn’t seem to understand that he couldn’t have the same expectations for you and your brother because your lives were bound to take vastly different paths. That was unfair of him.”

They weren’t words of comfort or reassurance by any means, but somehow just hearing his mother acknowledge that his father had been in any way wrong or flawed was a revelation. The weight of disappointment that had sat squarely on his shoulders since he’d been old enough to understand the way his father looked at him lifted just a little.

Still, the judgment and disappointment in every conversation with his mother were hard to shake.

“You never once told me any of this,” he said.

“I was Lady Barrett, not Sir Barrett,” she said, as though that was explanation enough.

He frowned. “Anyone with any sense could see that you were master of this house, not my father.”

A sly smile spread over his mother’s lips. “That I was. But even so, when it came to you and your brother, I deferred to my husband. What would a woman know of being a gentleman?”

Quite a lot, he suspected.

“I was never so proud of you as the day you told the baronet that you had no intention of becoming an officer or a clergyman,” said his mother. “Not that I wished for you to be a writer, but for the first time in my life, I saw you defy him openly.”

The confession left him at a loss for words. It was as though everything he’d ever known to be true was realigning.

“I thought my son had finally decided to become his own man. That you’d do something brilliant and become what you’d always had the potential to be,” his mother said. “And then you met that woman and married her.”

Everything came crashing back down to earth.

“You will not refer to Ina as ‘that woman,’ ” he said, his anger beginning to roil again.

Lady Sophia sniffed. “Well, I certainly won’t call her your wife. Not when she’s up and left.”

“What?”

Oh God. She’d told him she was going to at the very end of their fight the night before, and, even worse, he’d challenged her to go. He just hadn’t believed she’d actually do it. He’d assumed it was the sort of thing people threatened in anger but never actually acted upon.

“She left after breakfast this morning. She called for the carriage and had herself driven to the station with hardly a word of good-bye,” Lady Sophia said.

He stared at his mother, stunned. After all of those years of standing by Ina’s side, she’d abandoned him when he needed her most. He’d stood by her, but she wouldn’t do the same for him.

“What exactly did she say?” he asked, sinking into a chair.

“Nothing except that she was leaving,” his mother said.

“There was no message for me?” he asked, scrubbing his hands over his face. That didn’t sound like Ina at all, but nothing made sense anymore.

“None. Gavin, you’ve rid yourself of a difficult, uncompromising woman who was utterly unsuited to the role of Lady Barrett. Although it’s unfortunate you won’t be able to completely uncouple yourself from her without the scandal of divorce, there are other things you can do. If she’ll agree not to go out in society, she may live apart—or even on the Continent.”

His mother’s words washed over him, barely heard. Ina was gone. Everything he’d known about her—her strength, conviction, and compassion—was all false. He’d been nothing to her but a way to repair her reputation, and now she’d cast him aside like a used rag. He’d served his purpose.

His heart squeezed hard, and the physical pain of the relationship rocketed through him. He’d done what he never thought he’d do again—let a woman into the most intimate parts of his life. Now she’d once again chosen another. For Grace it had been Richard. For Ina, herself.

“I see,” he said.

“This is a clean break, Gavin,” his mother said, her voice almost soft. Almost mothering. “That woman was never going to make a suitable mistress of Oak Park. How can you be expected to have the Earl of Rockport and the Viscount Haughton and his wife to supper when your wife isn’t up to the task of being hostess?”

His head snapped up, realization dawning on him. All of this—from the admission that she’d admired him standing up to his father to the way in which she spoke of Ina merely as “that woman”—was just another masterful manipulation by his mother. Whereas his father had been straightforward and harsh in his disapproval, his mother was skilled at twisting and turning his emotions until he wasn’t certain which way was up. The pull to trust her was strong—she was his mother, after all—but sure enough, the moment he’d let down his guard, she’d gone straight for his deepest vulnerabilities in order to further her own desires.

He assessed his mother with new eyes. She was still lovely as he remembered her as a child, but she aged in such a way that she would have been called handsome rather than beautiful. Her slate-gray hair was tied in a severe knot on top of her head, and her dress was a foreboding shade of black. She was in every way the respectable widow, and yet what no one could see was that a viper lay underneath.

His mother droned on, unaware of the thoughts racing through his head. “This estate demands a woman of refinement, skill, and breeding to run this household.”