The duchess didn’t even glance her way. Perfectly properly. Great ladies didn’t acknowledge demireps.
Kylemore hauled Verity upright and dragged her up the stairs, leaving Ben in their wake. For a moment, she thought he meant to bundle her across the threshold without addressing his mother, but he paused as he reached the older woman.
This close, Verity saw that age had marked the Duchess of Kylemore’s face. Skillfully applied paint couldn’t hide the lines of temper around her mouth, and the gentian eyes were less lovely when one saw the hardness shining in their depths.
“What are you doing here?” Kylemore asked in his coldest manner.
His lack of welcome didn’t cow the duchess. Her winged brows lowered in a frown the image of his. “I am the Duchess of Kylemore. I may visit the family estates as I please.”
He laughed humorlessly. “You haven’t been to Scotland for twenty years, madam. Last time you left, you swore you’d never set foot in this barbarous land again.”
“Send your whore away and I’ll tell you why I’ve come,” she said with the unmistakable voice of command. Behind her, the magnificent edifice rose to the sky, declaring that the duchess had every right to be here and Verity had none.
“I should go,” she murmured to Kylemore.
“No, you’re staying,” he said stubbornly.
“Ben and I will return to the village. Squabbling openly like this with your mother does no good.” Then, on a note of entreaty because she couldn’t take many more emotional storms. “Please, I beg you!”
She should have known he’d respond no better to her pleading than he did to his mother’s orders. The unyielding hand around her arm didn’t relax. “You’re going nowhere.”
The duchess stared at her son with palpable dislike. “I’ve arrived just in time. It’s as I feared. Your father’s madness didn’t die with him. You’re the rotten branch from the rotten tree.”
Shock rippled through the lines of servants at this attack on their master. Verity couldn’t let this public fracas continue.
“I’ll wait for you in the village,” she whispered urgently. “You can’t want the household to witness this quarrel, Kylemore.”
The duchess’s mouth tightened in aristocratic disdain. “You permit this common harlot to use your familiar name?”
Beside her, Verity felt him draw himself up to his full impressive height. The duchess was tall for a woman, but he loomed over her. “I do. I would be the most fortunate man on earth if this lady were to call me husband, madam.”
This was too much for Her Grace. The perfect complexion whitened and the delicate jaw dropped in astonishment.
But she could hardly be more startled by the declaration than Verity was. He hadn’t mentioned marriage since Kensington. The concept of her as a duchess was still nonsensical, but nothing could dam the traitorous warmth his words poured into her grieving heart.
“This lady adorns any abode she cares to enter,” Kylemore said in a low voice that still managed to cut. “You, however, have long been a disgrace to your exalted name and rank. Kylemore Castle belongs to me. You are not welcome here.”
The duchess staggered back. For one awful moment, Verity thought she might collapse. “Justin! I am your mother!”
“To my eternal regret,” he said softly.
“Kylemore, you can’t throw your mother out,” Verity gasped. He had every right to hate the duchess, but an open break would only bring further scandal down on their heads.
She turned to the duchess and tried to keep a reasonable tone. “Your Grace, my brother and I leave today. My arrangement with your son has ended. I won’t embarrass you further.”
The duchess’s expression became more forbidding. Verity forgot the legendary beauty and saw only the obdurate, destructive will.
What could it have been like to call this woman mother? She was astonished Kylemore had emerged from childhood with even a shred of humanity intact.
As she’d expected, the duchess still refused to address her directly. “Justin, your behavior is unacceptable,” she said in an autocratic voice. “I am here to insist you act in a manner appropriate to your position. Dismiss this slut at once and return to London to select a bride. Pray, boy, recall who you are.”
He remained unmoved. “I am the Duke of Kylemore. These are my domains. If you aren’t off my lands by this evening, Mother, my servants will escort you to the boundary.”
He turned to face the staff with all the authority at his disposal. “The duchess will ride in Mr. McNab’s vehicle to Inverathie, where she will wait at the inn. Pack her trunks and send them down with her carriage, which she will then use for her immediate departure.”
“Justin, you cannot be serious!” his mother protested, clutching at his sleeve.
“I’ve never been more serious in my life, madam.” He shook her free as if she were an unwelcome petitioner. “Good day to you.”