“Ernest, would you allow me a moment alone with my daughter?”
“I believe it my right to be here.”
Her mother fell upon a sofa, threw her head against her arms, and started wailing.
“Now, Barbara,” the vicar said, rushing to her side, “do stop crying. I don’t understand what this is all about. Who is this grandmother, Miss Oliver?”
“Her name is Ruby Avalon.”
“Oh,” her mother wailed, crying and hiccuping. “You can’t tell him that.”
“But it’s the truth, and I’m not ashamed to say it. Why didn’t you tell me I had a grandmother and an aunt and a cousin? All this time I thought that I had no living relatives in London, and I found out, quite by chance. You know I’ve always longed to have a large family.”
“I forbade you to visit Covent Garden. You disobeyed me, you wicked girl.”
“You lied to me my entire life.”
“Ruby Avalon?” Mr. Pilkington’s brow furrowed. “Surely not the notorious Madam Avalon who runs a scandalous salon called the Silver Palace, which encourages all manner of iniquity and subversive activities?”
Sandrine drew herself up. “Don’t talk about her that way.”
“And don’t take that tone with me, Miss Oliver.”
“I never should have allowed you to come to London,” her mother said, her breath hitching.
“How can you say that? We have family here, Mama. How could you turn your back on your own mother and hide her very existence from me?”
“She was trying to protect you from sin, Miss Oliver. Well. This changes everything.” He began pacing up and down the room. “Everything.” He stopped in front of Sandrine.
Her mother raised tearstained cheeks. “If only you had accepted Mr. Pilkington and stayed in Squalton, none of this would have happened.”
“Pardon me, madam, but there were no proposals definitely given or accepted.”
“You were going to propose, though, weren’t you?”
“I may have entertained the notion, even though she would be a portionless bride, but now, given her kinship with that woman, I couldn’t possibly lower myself to marry her.” He glared at Sandrine. “I have had a narrow escape. I was nearly hoodwinked into marrying the granddaughter of a notorious bawd. Thank heavens this came to light when it did!”
“She’s not a bawd. She’s a wonderful woman, a brilliant artist, and a benefactress to other women artists,” Sandrine said vehemently. “She helps young ladies not harms them. Which is more than can be said for you, Mr. Pilkington. Why must your sermons dwell upon wrath and punishment, instilling fear and shame? Why can you not preach love, forgiveness, and hope?”
“I won’t stand here and be insulted a moment longer. Barbara, I’m leaving.”
“Ernest, pray reconsider! No one in Squaltonknows about my mother. We can all go back and pretend none of this ever happened.”
“That’s not possible, Mama. I can’t go back and pretend to be that naive girl who follows all your dictates and allows fear to rule her heart.”
“I will pray for you, Miss Oliver. You’ve obviously been corrupted and turned from the path of righteousness. Barbara, I can’t marry your daughter, and there’s an end to it.”
“You can’t marry her, you pontificating toad of a man, because she’s already engaged to me!”
The thunderous voice sounded from the doorway. Dane stood there at his full height, face glowering, arms crossed, looking so deliciously handsome she wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and never let go.
“Engaged to you?” Mr. Pilkington stuttered. “Mr. Smith, isn’t it?”
“Not Mr. Smith. Lord Dane Walker, heir presumptive to the dukedom of Rydell. Now, Mr. Pilkington, you will apologize to my fiancée. And make it eloquent, or I’ll rearrange your face.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Honor thy mother and obey her in all things.