Chapter 18
His mother’s “little house party” was, as Nathaniel had expected, an infuriating affair—a transparent scheme that seemed designed to manipulate him.
He could not yet discern the exact aim of her machinations, but the abundance of unattached ladies in attendance, from young debutantes to more experienced widows, each paraded before him with barely veiled intent, gave him a weird feeling in his gut. It was awkward in the extreme.
Everywhere he turned, another hopeful miss gazed at him from behind her fan or blushed furiously when he caught her staring.
The more brazen among them sought him out in the drawing room, dropping their handkerchiefs, their conversation peppered with poorly concealed compliments and subtle invitations.
One forward widow—a Mrs. Stanhope—had abandoned all sense of propriety, allowing her gloved hand to rest on his arm longer than was necessary and leaning in to whisper risqué comments under the din of the room.
If anything, Nathaniel had begun to prefer his work in the fields to the oppressive company of his mother’s guests.
Thank goodness the demands of dealing with the crops kept him away from the house most of the day.
The daily toil of conferring with Mr. Fletcher, inspecting crops threatened by the barley blight, and dining with his tenants out in the fields was refreshingly straightforward.
Honest. The soil had no ulterior motives, nor did it look at him with mooning eyes or calculating smiles.
But at dinner there was no escape. Each night he presided over the massive dining table, its twenty seats a stage for subtle power plays.
The place of honor at the other end seemed to have become a private battleground for the two Dowager Viscountess Greystones.
His mother invariably prevailed, pulling rank to oust his sister-in-law from the position she had appropriated during her widowhood.
It struck Nathaniel, with bitter clarity, how untenable the situation in this household had become.
He had every intention of bringing his wife here.
But Alice was right. There were already two dueling viscountesses occupying the position.
Two women, both styling themselves as the true mistress of Greystone, their claws buried deep in the estate’s running, neither inclined to relinquish their hold.
He had been too blinded by his responsibilities and grief over his brother’s death at first, and too distracted by Alice’s departure later, to care about the household politics.
But now he saw it. The subtle snipes. The tightly held reins.
Even he found the atmosphere oppressive.
For Alice, who was never bred to this rarefied world, it would have been intolerable.
And he would not allow it to continue.
This conviction hardened as the evening dragged on.
He endured conversation with a debutante so painfully shy she nearly expired when he spoke to her, and on his other side, the irrepressible Mrs. Stanhope, who pressed her bosom perilously close as she suggested she might “assist” him with estate matters—or indeed, any matters he required.
When at last he rose to retire to his room, his mother was waiting for him like a spider in her web.
“Nathaniel, darling,” she cooed, sweeping forward in a rustle of black satin. Her smile was a mask of practiced charm. “You must tell me your thoughts on Lady Blanche. Such a lovely girl. So accomplished. Her father tells me she is an excellent horsewoman and speaks flawless French.”
“How very accomplished,” Nathaniel replied curtly, resisting the urge to glance toward the door.
“And Mrs. Stanhope, of course. Such a vivacious woman. A little older, yes, but seasoned, experienced. I should think you would find her…stimulating.”
His mother’s eyes glittered as if daring him to deny the implication. Before he could cut her off, Lady Blanche herself materialized at their side, cheeks flushed with excitement.
“My lord,” she began breathlessly, “I wondered if you might ride with me tomorrow morning? The weather promises to be fine.”
Nathaniel gave her his most diplomatic smile. “That does sound tempting. However, I must decline. I expect to be busy with estate matters.”
“Nonsense,” his mother broke in, laying a proprietary hand on his arm. “You mustn’t neglect your social obligations. Lady Blanche would make an excellent riding companion. Perhaps more.”
Enough.
Nathaniel turned his head slowly, his expression hardening as he regarded his mother. His voice, low and dangerously polite, cut through the air.
“Mother, I need to speak to you. In my study.”
She blinked, a flicker of surprise breaking through her facade. “Oh, I’ll have to consult my calendar. We have such a full schedule this week—the picnics, the card parties—I’m sure we can find a moment after the musicale tomorrow.”
“Now, Mother.”
His tone left no room for argument. With a smile that did not reach his eyes, Nathaniel took her arm and threaded it through his own, placing his hand firmly over hers. To the guests, it was a picture of filial devotion. To his mother, the grip was a warning.
“Please excuse us,” he said smoothly to Lady Blanche. “I must borrow my mother for a moment.”
As soon as the study door closed behind them, he released her arm and turned, his face inscrutable but his eyes sharp with barely contained fury.
“Explain the purpose of this charade.”
To give her credit, his mother rallied with commendable speed. Only the barest flicker of surprise showed on her face before she lifted her chin and put on her haughtiest expression.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean by that.”
He glared at her. “I’m sure you do. This farce of a house party, with unattached women being paraded in front of me like mares at a livestock auction.”
His mother’s lip curled with disgust. “Don’t be vulgar, Nathaniel. I invited a few ladies of quality to show you that you have options.”
“Options for what, pray tell?” Despite the softness of his voice, or perhaps because of it, his mother took warning. As well she should. He was hanging on to his temper by a thread.
“For a wife, of course. Any of the unattached ladies here would make you a fine viscountess. If none of them are to your liking, I guess we could cast a wider net, but really, this is the best of this year’s marriage mart.”
The reins on his temper slipped a bit more. He took a steadying breath before replying. “You seem to forget, Mother, that I already have a wife.”
“Oh, pish.” She made a dismissive hand gesture. “Not for long. Thank goodness you have finally taken steps to rectify that youthful mistake. I’m sure if you reach an understanding with one of these ladies, they’ll be happy to wait a few months until you are free.”
“Have you taken leave of your senses? What makes you think I will be free, or that I would be amenable to courting any lady when I am a married man?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Nathaniel. You are not the only one with a talent for spying.
Very little happens around me that I don’t know about.
I was informed that you petitioned for a divorce.
Of course, a divorce is not ideal—quite the scandal.
But much preferable to the alternative: you staying married to that disgraceful chit. ”
Mere irritation transformed into fury. His fists clenched instinctively, and he forced them to open. To breathe in and out, to keep his words even.
“That is my wife you are talking about. I demand that you accord her the due respect.”
“Respect must be earned. You need a proper wife, one who lives with you and gives you an heir. Not one that forgoes her duties to you and the title to go gallivanting around London, doing God knows what. You must agree with me, or you wouldn’t have initiated the divorce proceedings.”
“That is none of your business, Mother. But just so that you don’t keep harboring outlandish hopes, the divorce may not proceed.”
“What? Whyever not? I’m sure there’s plenty of evidence against her, what with her shameful behavior, and her abandonment of her home.”
“Because I no longer want to pursue it. Alice is my wife, and I want her to continue to be. So it’s better if you get used to the idea. Alice is Lady Greystone, and if I’m to have heirs, it will be by her.”
His mother’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “I knew it! You have gone back to that Jezebel. That is why you are in such a hurry to return to London. Have you no dignity? Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to these past few weeks. When I learned she’s been staying at the London house—”
“How do you know Alice’s been in the London house?” he interrupted. “Or that I’ve been seeing her? Have you set the servants to spying on me, Mother? Are they reporting to you on my every move? Was that the reason for the urgent summons and for this ridiculous house party?”
“Everything I’ve done is for your own good!”
“My own good? All this time I’ve been guarding against external threats, and I have spies in my own home!”
“I had hoped you were just having a bit of fun with her. But you are still under her spell, aren’t you?”
“Enough! You have no clue what our relationship is really like. Alice and I love each other, and if we decide to give our marriage a second chance, that is our business and nobody else’s.”
“You are a fool, Nathaniel. A cuckold and a fool.”
The dart was carefully thrown to strike at the center of his most tender spot. A cuckold, indeed. He turned away to hide his reaction behind authority.
“By the way, things are going to change around here. I won’t have Alice disrespected or looked down upon.
If and when Alice comes back, she will assume her rightful place as Lady Greystone.
In society as well as in this household.
Anyone who doesn’t accept her, whether you, Louisa, or any servants who feel they owe their loyalty to you alone, are welcome to find a different home. ”
His mother sputtered. “Are you threatening to remove Louisa and me from Greystone Manor? What about your niece? Will you also toss the child from the only home she’s ever known?”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Mother. Both you and Louisa have more than adequate widows’ portions. Certainly enough to keep your own households. You’ll be far from destitute, and I think you might be happier that way.”
“That woman doesn’t know the first thing about being a lady, about running a household such as this one.” Fear, passion, or a combination of the two made his mother’s voice tremble. “She will run Greystone Manor to the ground. She will embarrass you. You are making a grave mistake.”
He regretted the necessity of putting his mother in her place, but she was a strong-willed and stubborn woman, used to commanding all around her. She would only understand—and respect—a firm hand.
“Regardless, it’s my mistake to make. And one more thing, I’m returning to London in the morning.”
“You can’t just leave in the middle of my house party!”
“Like you said, it’s your house party. I want no part of it.”
“What about the crops?”
“The issues are mostly resolved. The steward can take care of the rest.”
He had made the decision in the moment, but as he said it, his resolve firmed.
Yes, this was the right thing to do. It was past time he returned to Alice.
He had not heard one word from her in the week he had been gone.
No reply to his telegram, nothing. He didn’t like it one bit.
Pray God his absence had not undone the progress they had made in their relationship.
Turning on his heel, he walked toward the door.
“Goodbye, Mother. I’m going back to my wife.”