In his mother’sfavorite sitting room at Dryden House, Garrick took a sip of perfectly prepared tea and wondered how he ought to inform his mother and father that he was about to create the scandal of the century. Father’s color was good today; he was not pale as he had been on Garrick’s previous visit, when Aidan had announced his plans to marry Miss Penelope Sutton. Garrick’s own announcement, not long after, was bound to cause some upset.
He had to proceed with caution.
“The news from Dr. Wilton is good?” he asked Father casually.
It was the polite way of inquiring whether or not he might render his sire apoplectic when he revealed the purpose of his call.
“It is cautious, but promising,” his father said.
“His Grace has not had to use the Bath chair for several days now,” Mother added, sending a small smile in her husband’s direction as she idly stroked an orange cat which had settled in her lap.
“That is excellent to hear,” Garrick said, wishing he were partaking of something stronger than tea, although he scarcely ever imbibed.
Part of him felt lighter than he ever had, filled with the brightness of a thousand suns. But part of him felt heavy, his gut tangled in knots. Knots for the way he had left Pen the night before. Knots for her fury with him. Knots for the unburdening he needed to do today. He had already made one call, to Lady Hester, which had been easier than he had supposed.
As it turned out, Lady Hester had set her cap at the Earl of Carlington, and she was hoping for an understanding to be reached any day. She and Garrick had parted as friends. He was not certain he would be so blessed by a similarly pleasant outcome on this occasion.
Mother had set her heart upon Lady Hester as his bride.
But he was not in love with Lady Hester. And leaving her earlier had not made his heart feel as if it were shattering into irreparable shards in his chest as it had when he had left Pen the night before.
“My lord?” Mother was prompting him, cutting through his thoughts.
A lack of sleep and the weight of what he must do had rendered his mind sluggish. He blinked, attempting to chase away his distraction. “Yes, Mother?”
“You were wool-gathering,” she observed tartly, giving the feline a scratch between the ears. “I asked if you had heard Aidan’s news.”
“Aidan’s news?” He frowned, wondering what manner of madcap nonsense his brother had managed to entangle himself in now, and so soon after he had just been rescued from the devious Mrs. Knightly.
“We are to wish him happy,” Father said in a tone of resignation. “He has decided he will wed the unsuitable Miss Sutton after all.”
The lack of fury in his father’s tone and the absence of outraged color flooding to his cheeks would have pleased Garrick, for it hardly seemed as if his father would suffer another of his fits on account of Aidan’s antics. However, the words he heard were wrong. It took a moment for them to permeate Garrick’s sleep-deprived brain.
He returned his teacup to its saucer with more force than necessary and straightened in his chair. “Forgive me, but I fear I misheard you, Father.”
“You did not mishear,” Mother said, voice dripping with distaste. “Your brother wishes to marry Miss Mutton.”
“Sutton,” he corrected absently.
“Mutton, Sutton, Button.” His mother made a dismissive gesture. “The name hardly signifies. The ensuing scandal, however, does. You may as well prepare yourself, my lord. And warn Lady Hester, as well. We have tried to dissuade him, but he seems unwilling to stray from his course for a second time. I had so hoped he was finally willing to see reason when he told us the betrothal had been broken.”
Damn it, Aidan still wanted to marry Pen despite their conversation at Rivendale’s. He had hoped his brother would reconsider.
A possessive surge went through him then. Pen was his, damn it.
“Impossible,” he bit out. “It will never happen.”
“At least one of our sons sees reason,” Mother quipped.
“Aidan cannot marry Miss Sutton,” he elaborated, “because I am.”
At least, he hoped he was. He had yet to ask her. After suffering through a sleepless night, he had made an early-morning visit to Winter’s Boxing Academy. Garrick had returned home with aching knuckles and the certain knowledge that Pen Sutton owned his heart, and that he could not bear to live without her.
“You are?” Mother’s voice was high and shrill, steeped in disbelief.
“Yes.” And how freeing that one word, that revelation, was.
He had spent the years since Veronica’s betrayal attempting to be the son his parents wanted, the lord society expected him to be. A stickler for propriety. The perfect gentleman. He had done everything right. But on the inside… On the inside, he had been hollow. He had been joyless and frigid.
Pen had filled him with warmth and happiness. She had taught him that loving again was worth the risk, any risk. Society and its expectations could go to the devil for all he cared. He was not going to marry Lady Hester Torshell. He was going to marry the woman he loved.
Yes, loved.
He loved Pen Sutton.
Had loved her, quite possibly, from the moment she had stormed into her office at The Sinner’s Palace and demanded to know who he was.
“I do not understand,” his mother was saying, distraught. “What hold does this horrid creature have over the both of you?”
“Miss Sutton is neither horrid nor a creature,” he corrected her coolly. “She is an intelligent woman who is deserving of your respect, not your disdain.”
His mother was sputtering, disturbing the cat on her lap. “But she is common. Worse than common. How could you wish to bind yourself to an East End vagabond?”
“Need I remind you of your origins?” his father asked sternly. “You were a merchant’s daughter when we married.”
His mother gasped as if she had been struck.
Garrick glanced from his father to his mother, shocked himself. He had always believed his mother had been the daughter of a country baron. At least, that was the tale she told. He had never known his grandparents, both having died before he was born.
“You are the daughter of a Cit?” he asked her now.
“Do not speak to me of it.” She pressed a hand to her brow. “I am feeling faint. Fetch me my hartshorn.”
What an interesting development this was. His mother had been keeping a secret, it would seem. A very large, potentially useful one.
Garrick found himself grinning. “Given your experience, Mother, I have no doubt you will prove helpful in aiding my wife to find her footing in polite society.”
She issued a heavy sigh. “I expected better of you, my lord. What of Lady Hester?”