“And I am your son in the eyes of theton, but you have done everything in your power to undermine me. Do not think I have forgotten.” He paused, looking at her, waiting for a confession, but it was not forthcoming. She would not admit to what she had done to him.
Very well. He would have to find proof another way.
* * *
“We shall have to search her townhouse,” Sybil said when George recounted his meeting with his mother to her. His eyes widened slightly at her matter-of-fact tone, but as far as she was concerned, this was the logical next step.
“And how do you propose we do that without the servants discovering what we are up to?”
“Choose a time when you know she will be out, insist on seeing her, and wait. Then, when we are already in the townhouse, we can search it. Of course, we will have to be careful, but she is your mother and you are her son—you have rights others do not.”
“The right to search her home?” he asked wryly.
“Precisely. Why, are you getting cold feet?”
“About protecting you? Never.” He chewed on his lip. “I’m just wondering how I can prevail on you to remain here.”
“Remain here?” Sybil was shocked into laughter. “There’s no way you could prevail upon me to remain here.” In his Manor. Alone. There would be plenty of material for a scandal, which was the last thing she needed when there was already someone out to get her.
At least there had been no more bricks through her window, although she suspected that, at least, was in part because her mother moved her from guest room to guest room, deciding last minute where she should sleep. Thomas viewed this as somewhat eccentric but harmless, and Sybil appreciated that her mother was at least trying to keep her safe.
George’s mouth pinned into a hard line, but he nodded sharply. “Very well.”
They spent the remainder of their time together planning, Penelope as their chaperone being conveniently absent whenever they were somewhere private, and eventually agreed on the next evening as the best time for the attempt. The Dowager would be at an event that George and Sybil would attend but briefly, leaving together—although appearing to leave separately—for his mother’s townhouse.
Sybil’s stomach churned with mingled excitement and dread all the next day as she considered what they might find. If his mother truly was behind all the unpleasant notes and the threats, what did that mean for them? George had assured her he would marry her no matter what, but no matter what was a strong statement to make. His mother was… well, she wasn’t family, but she wassomething. And he was not immune to the duty that a mother deserved.
As she got ready for the ball, Sybil’s chest rose in righteous anger, and she had to remind herself that for the purpose of the evening, she was to appear with glittering good looks so everyone around could appreciate the way she looked on George’s side.
“Beautiful,” her mother said as Sybil placed ruby drops in her ears—another gift from George. “My darling, you are beautiful.”
Sybil looked at herself in the mirror. Shewas, wasn’t she? And perhaps that was something to do with the happiness she felt now, but that was still part ofher. Even terrifying letters and veiled threats and George’s cruel mother couldn’t take that away.
“Thank you, Mama,” Sybil said, and the compliment sat warm in her chest.
“You know,” Scarlet said as she advanced into the room and perched on the bed. “I always wanted you to be happy. You know that, don’t you?”
Sybil nodded, her throat a little tight for a reason she couldn’t quite understand. “I know.”
“Even if my methods were not always to your taste.”
“Mama, your methods were to very few people’s taste.” Sybil took a long breath and turned to face her mother properly. How had she not noticed the lines that were gathering around her mother’s eyes? All the skin remedies in the world could not maintain a glow that age and worry seemed determined to take away.
And for her mother, who had always been prized for her beauty alone, that must be a hard pill to swallow.
Pity swamped Sybil, and she held out her hand for her mother. “I know you only ever wanted the best for me.”
“Confidence comes from within. Not what other people think of you.” Her eyes, so very bright and vibrant—a color Sybil had often wished she possessed—were fierce and steady. “Own your body, my daughter, and what you choose to do with it. We made different choices, you and I, and they will take us to different places. But never be ashamed of what you do, and who you decide to love—even if that person is yourself.” She paused. “Especially if that person is yourself.”
This was a question Sybil did not want to ask, but she couldn’t prevent it from leaving her lips. “Do you love Thomas, Mama?”
“Of course I do. He is kind to me and treats me with respect. But even if I did not, I would have married him to provide you with stability and respectability I could not offer alone.” She swept a curl back from Sybil’s face. “You are my greatest triumph.”
All this time, Sybil had felt as though her mother had stolen a prospective husband from her—however much she wished to marry her husband. Not once had she considered that Scarlet’s actions might have beenforher. That a Marquess’ protection would be greater than her own; that her desire to give Sybil a home was stronger than her love for attention or love for herself.
Even if I did not, I would have married him.
This had all been for her. And yes, her mother’s methods hadnotbeen to Sybil’s liking. Her mother was proudly defiant of others’ opinions, and Sybil had borne the brunt of theton’sdispleasure.
