“You believe I am insulting you when I say that—I can tell. But I mean only that you are staid. Careful.” She brushed an invisible something off his sleeve. “And, of course, just as impressively built.”
Neville pursed his lips as a pained feeling passed through his body.
Her smile grew rueful. “Things between your father and I were not easy, of course, but one thing is for certain. You and John are my reward. And, at the very least, my betrothal to your father brought a swift end to any impertinence on the part of the men of theton.”
…just as he’d thought his presence, his name, the sheer force of his will would end any impertinence toward Millie.
“Why should you look so bleak?” She studied him further. “And what is this urgent matter you spoke of earlier? A matter more important than my information about John?”
As a grown man, he’d never taken his mother into his confidence. Then again, perhaps he should have. “Because of me, a lady has become embroiled in this—this mess with John.”
“Because of you? How is that possible?”
“The peer Temperance mentioned—I know who that man is. And, tonight, that same man attempted to publicly ruin this lady’s reputation. And he did so, I believe, simply because he’d noticed my interest.”
“Aladythis time?”
Neville nodded. “He’s always kept his attentions on lower-ranked women before. Within Society, he’s always played a careful part. But something, I fear, has changed. A degeneration of his mind, or a threat of some sort that has pushed him to desperation.”
His mother studied him anew. “Do you have a connection to this lady?”
“Yes. Ah. No.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I mean, not as yet. But I cannot think of another way to keep her safe, or to repair the damage he’s done, other than to ask for her hand tonight, and then marry her by special license as soon as possible.”
His mother jerked back in surprise. “Oh—oh, Ambrose.No.Marriage is nothing to be entered into hastily.”
“Iwantto marry her.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. He’d no answer for her skepticism. “I cannot live without her?”
His mother’s frown deepened. “And how does she feel about you?”
“I don’t know.” He grimaced. “I’ve been…short with her. Critical.”
“Ah,” she acknowledged quietly. “That is why the comparison to your father troubled you more than usual.”
Reluctantly, he nodded.
“Your father was, in many ways, good and decent. But he, too, thought rescue a solid foundation for marriage. I can assure you, it is not.” She raised her brows. “Not, at least, if one expects gratitude in perpetuity.”
Was that why his father was so disappointed in his mother? Because she hadn’t been grateful enough?
“Do you love this lady?” she asked.
Of course she would wish to know. But he hadn’t dared to ask himself yet. “I care for her,” he hedged. “I want to protect her.” Both those things were solid, true.
Much less ephemeral thanlove.
“Yes? And…?”
“She is, by far, the loveliest creature I have ever seen.” So lovely his throat grew tight just thinking about her.
“So your father once said of me.” His mother sounded sad. “I know your intent is noble, but if you do not love this lady, please find another way to keep her safe.”
He’d thought, of all people, he thought his mother would be delighted he wished to wed. But her concern felt true—the very concern he had yet to admit to himself. A concern still amorphous, undefined.
“Why?” he asked hesitantly.