Chapter Eleven
The invitation was odd—after all, how often did one receive an invitation from one’s own mother when they, technically, still lived in the same house?
Pere tapped the thick paper on the table and twisted her lips.
The vellum was heavy, scented faintly with lavender water—her mother’s signature, a ghost of childhood comfort now turned brittle.
“I guess it’s not surprising that she had mine delivered here, along with yours.
” She glanced to Anna, who was sipping on tea slowly, her brow furrowed.
“You do spend most of your time here.”
“Do you think she doesn’t notice when I come home? I’ve been sleeping in my room the past week. Did … did she not know?” Pere didn’t raise her eyes to her friend, rather she bit her lip and considered the fact her mother was that oblivious—or perhaps, that uncaring—to be aware of her presence.
The silence stretched, thick as the damask curtains, until even the ticking clock seemed to judge.
“Well,” Anna started tentatively. “She did know you were often here, so that means she recognizes when you’re missing.”
“True,” Pere admitted, feeling slightly better. “Is your invitation for the same time? I’m assuming it is.”
“Tonight?” Anna asked.
“Yes. Good, I … would rather not navigate whatever situation awaits us alone,” Pere confessed.
“Understood. Your brother is just as confused as you.”
“Not surprising. Have…” Pere paused. “Has he heard from Edwin at all?” she asked, daring a look up to her sister-in-law.
Anna shook her head. “No. And don’t hesitate to ask regarding your eldest brother; it is of no consequence to me.
I understand my actions last season could lead to speculation, but I’m, obviously, very unscathed by his actions and blissfully happy with Henley—your other brother,” she added with a slight smirk of delight.
“Clearly. Seeing as I’m going to be an aunt so soon.” Pere raised an eyebrow as she grinned.
“Remember, Henley doesn’t know I’ve told you all the details, just a—”
“Told her what?” Henley asked, striding into the room and quickly placing an adoring kiss to Anna’s head.
Pere pinched her lips and gave a wide-eyed look to her friend.
“You have terrible timing, love,” Anna chided teasingly.
“I rather think my timing is impeccable, seeming as I came in just as my name was mentioned.”
Anna let out a sigh. “I told Pere she’s going to be an aunt.” Anna fiddled with her teacup and then looked to Henley.
Pere’s eyes followed hers as she awaited her brother’s reaction. Henley gave a soft chuckle. “You went nearly a week before telling her; I’m honestly shocked you made it so long.” He raised his own freshly poured teacup in a toast.
“I’m offended!” Anna shouted as she let out a laugh.
“No, you’re not. And I do believe you need to offer me a word of celebration, sister. After all, I had some part in this.” Henley turned a smug look to Pere.
“Why must you say such things?” She gave Anna a grimace, earning a mere shrug from her beaming friend. “Very well, congratulations; I’m thrilled to soon be spoiling your little one.”
“Of that, I have no doubt. We’ll have to have another soon after just to keep the one from being a total hoyden like his or her aunt.”
“And, now it’s time to change the subject.” Pere clapped her hands once. “And I’m not a hoyden.” She glared.
“Your sister was just speaking about the invitation from your mother,” Anna said, gesturing to the missive on the table.
“Ah, yes.” Henley twisted his lips, and Pere noticed that they shared that trait.
Belatedly, she recognized the habit as one belonging to their late father.
It brought her a measure of comfort, recognizing a piece of him living on within them.
If he were still alive, perhaps it would be an entirely different situation with their mother—maybe Edwin as well.
However, musing about what could be didn’t help what was.
Henley set his teacup down and grasped his wife’s hand tenderly. “Whatever awaits us, we’ll figure it out together. It’s what we do, is it not?”
Pere nodded once, thankful for her brother.
“Indeed, and at least we do not need to wait long; tonight is just a few short hours away.”
Henley nodded, then patted his wife’s hand, his expression tender. Pere’s heart pinched; she loved seeing obvious love between her brother and Anna, but it also brought into sharp focus her desire for the same kind of relationship in her own life.
“Should we tell our news tonight?” Henley’s tone was soft, almost hesitant with an underlying love that made Pere study his expression, curious.
Anna didn’t answer immediately, so Pere regarded her expression, trying to read her thoughts, but unable to find the answers.
“I … yes. It will give a bright spot to the evening, and I’m sure it will serve to break any tension. Your mother will certainly be delighted.”
Pere noticed the way her words sounded more like a question than a statement.
“Of course.” Henley cupped his wife’s face, but Pere questioned if he could state such a thing with certainty, for neither of them quite knew how their mother would react. Time would tell.
“Do you feel up to a trip to Bond Street? Certainly, you need to be ordering a few new dresses for your … situation.” Pere introduced a new topic, needing a distraction and knowing shopping was a certain victory.
“I suppose, though I can’t say I’m looking forward to being so … round.”
“How delicately stated,” Pere pestered.
“Deliciously—”
“And now, I’m going to take my leave and pretend I didn’t see or hear anything like that. You’d think you two would have more decorum with me around, but I swear, you have less.”
“You’re quite prudish for being the hoyden you don’t claim to be.”
“Goodbye. I’ll see you in a half hour to leave for Bond Street.” Pere leveled a finger at Anna. “And you, I’ll see tonight. And unfortunately, probably before that as well.”
“Love you too, sister,” Henley teased.
Pere waved them off and quit the room, her smile wide as she heard Anna giggle.
It might be an uncertain evening ahead, but at least she wasn’t facing it alone.
That evening, Pere repeated that same phrase as she stepped into the carriage beside her brother and Anna as they started toward what should be home, but felt no longer like it.
The carriage was quiet—oddly so—and Pere twisted her lips and regarded her brother.
His hand held Anna’s but not tightly, just with a sweet assurance, and Pere closed her eyes, wondering what it would feel like to have that same kind of solid presence beside her.
What would it look like? She could almost imagine a warm hand holding hers, a warm shoulder brushing against hers, and as she pretended the situation, she envisioned the man beside her.
With a quiet gasp, she opened her eyes and blinked, coming back to the reality of the carriage ride.
Henley quirked an eyebrow at her.
Pere gave her head a wordless shake and turned her attention to the window. She needed a moment to gather her thoughts, because the face she saw in her imaginings had startled her—not because it was so shocking, but because for that split second, it made complete sense.
And that was the impossible part.
She was imagining security, love, devotion, and a solid presence beside her. Not at all the descriptions she’d use to articulate the character of Lord Hawthorne.
Yet, as she thought back over her moment of fancy, it had been like a puzzle piece that made the rest of the picture clearer.
But that made no sense.
The tension was getting to her head, clearly, and she shook off the musings that would lead nowhere, and watched as the carriage pulled to a slow stop before the house of all her childhood memories.
The stone steps led up to a wide walnut door, and Pere imagined their butler waiting just inside, watching for their arrival.
Henley alighted first and helped both her and Anna step down.
Henley and Anna preceded her as they took the short walk to the stairs, the door opening as Pere’s slippered foot touched the first step, their butler welcoming them with a nod.
“Lord and Lady Allendale, Lady Peregrine.” He spoke with respect, then asked them to follow him to a parlor.
Pere followed, feeling all sorts of awkward to be treated so formally within her own home—or what should have been her own home.
It certainly didn’t feel like it now. She shared a curious expression with her brother as they each took a seat to await their mother’s leisure.
Just when Pere was about to break the silence, footsteps sounded in the hall and her tension increased, anticipating her mother’s arrival.
She swept into the room with a wide smile, dressed exquisitely as if expecting to attend a ball later, and with a warmth that had been achingly absent for the past almost year.
The gown was new—emerald silk, cut daringly low; the woman who once mourned in black lace now shimmered like a debutante reborn.
Pere blinked at her, then glanced to Henley, unsure what to think or even how to greet their mother.
Henley took the initiative, standing and bowing. “Mother, you look lovely as always.”
Lady Devon gave a demure smile and offered her hand to her son. “Thank you, I’m so glad you all accepted my invitation for dinner; it’s been far too long since I’ve had my children around the table.”
“We’re delighted,” Anna offered, almost tentatively.
Pere stood next. “Good evening.”
“Ah, and I finally see my daughter who has been shockingly absent, but I cannot fault you; I’m sure Henley’s home is far more diverting than that of mine.” She hitched a shoulder, giggling slightly.
Pere blinked. Who was this woman? For a moment, Pere saw the woman she once was, before heartache, and it was a window into her mother’s past that gave her insight—and a measure of grace.
“I’m at your disposal whenever you need me,” Pere remarked, sharing a look with Henley.
“Dinner is ready, if you’ll follow me? I’m keeping it rather informal, since it’s just us.” She gestured to the door and then led the way to the dining hall.
As she followed Henley and Anna, Pere noticed several changes to the house’s décor. Thinking back, she wondered when the subtle changes had taken place. The footmen withdrew the chairs, and the first course was served.
After a few moments of silence, Lady Devon spoke. “I’m sure you’re all curious why I requested your presence.”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” Henley said. “However, it is excellent timing since we have our own announcement of sorts.” He shared a grin with Anna.
Pere glanced to their mother, aware of every nuance of her expression, curious.
“Oh? Well, I look forward to hearing all the news. And I’ll begin with this piece of information I know you’ll be thrilled to hear!”
Henley nodded, his eyebrows raised expectantly. Pere glanced to Anna next, her expression amused.
Lady Devon waited as the footmen removed their first course and replaced it with the next. She took a sip of wine and then raised her glass, inviting them all to join in.
Pere followed suit and watched as her mother’s expression softened. “Edwin is coming home!”
Pere’s brows puckered, but she toasted, noting the expressions of Anna and Henley. Both were slightly confused but nothing more. “Cheers.”
“That is certainly of note.” Henley spoke after he took a sip of wine. “Where has my brother been as of late?”
Lady Devon ran headlong into a litany of information regarding their elder brother, Edwin.
Pere listened, ignoring the way her heart ached at the way her mother had memorized the smallest detail of her brother’s letters, but hadn’t once asked about her season, or any detail regarding her own life.
She didn’t want to be jealous, but it was nearly impossible not to feel slighted as the conversation carried on.
“Clearly, you are delighted to be expecting him so soon, and maybe we can add to that air of expectation?” Henley changed the subject, raising his own glass.
Pere bit back a laugh as her mother lifted her glass, confusion puckering her brow, as if she utterly forgot that Henley had his own announcement to make.
Good Lord, had it always been this apparent? The blatant favoritism? How had she endured? Or perhaps, since she had distance from her mother since practically living with Henley and Anna, it brought it all into sharp relief.
“There is to be an heir to your family’s title, Mother. And you will get a new title, grandmother.” Henley clinked his glass with a blushing Anna, as she cautiously glanced to her mother-in-law.
Lady Allendale blinked, frowned, and then quickly schooled her features. “I suppose I’m a little young to take on such a title … but if I must.” She gave a delicate shrug to her shoulders and took a small sip.
Pere blinked.
That was all the reaction she could give? She looked to Anna, who took a sip of water, her eyes wide and also giving an expression that somehow read I knew it. Henley’s brows furrowed with irritation at her dismissive reaction, and he glanced first to Anna, then to Pere.
Somethings never changed, Pere supposed, and with a shrug, she glanced heavenward and then back to Henley, who arched a dark brow, and then began speaking of the weather.
And they carried on in that same vein of topics that meant nothing, carried no weight, and couldn’t be held against them. As the dinner ended, Pere couldn’t escape her home quickly enough. She had toyed with the idea of staying in her room, but no. She wanted to be surrounded by her family.
Henley, Anna, and their soon-to-be little one.
That was her family.
Not the woman who loved only those she favored.
And ignored the rest.
She paused on the stone steps outside, the night air cool against her flushed cheeks.
Somewhere in the distance, a nightingale called—mocking, perhaps, the hollow echo of a house that had once been home.
Pere straightened her spine. Let Edwin return.
Let her mother cling to ghosts. She had a niece or nephew to spoil, a plan to reform, and a certain marquess to forget.
Though the puzzle piece still fit, warm and infuriating, in the corner of her mind.