“Come and sit down, Julian.”
Julian hugged his mother once more and gladly accepted her fussing over him. She gently slipped a thick blue satin pillow behind his back, positioned the hassock directly in front of his wing chair, and even lifted his booted feet. He was laughing. “Enough, ma’am, I am not used to being so spoilt.”
“I am your mother, I will spoil you as much as I like. Now, while we wait for Pouffer to bring in sustenance, I will tell you we must leave for London very soon.”
He looked at her blankly. “London? But I just came from London.”
“You went to London? Already?”
“Well, yes, I had business with Harlan.”
“Ah, well, Mr. Whittaker and business, that is very different. No, dearest, I mean London, as in the Season. You did turn thirty-two last month—although you were not here to celebrate your birthday—and in my disappointment, I downed an entire bottle of champagne. I drank so many toasts to your beautiful self I was flat in my bed all the next day. It is past time you were wed again.”
The words burst out of her in a torrent. Julian raised a black brow at her as he pulled his watch out of his waistcoat pocket. “I have been home exactly ten minutes, Mother. Perhaps we can wait to leave for London? Perhaps in a day or two?” Past time for him to wed again? What was this?
He found himself looking around the vast drawing room, giving his mother time to marshal her arguments, always entertaining, always worth waiting for. “I like what you have done with this room, Mother, the blues and cream shades suit it nicely, and the Aubusson carpet is magnificent.”
“I am glad you admire the carpet, since you paid a substantial number of groats for it.”
“As for London, you’re right, Mother, I was there only a few days. As you said, I spent most of my time with Harlan, reviewing all Ravenscar expenditures, tenant profits, repairs to be done, crops to be adjusted. You’ve done an excellent job, Mother.”
“Well, none of the stones are crumbling away, all our tenants are content—well, several of them would complain even if God himself were to take tea with them. Actually, since you wrote detailed instructions to me every single week, it required little thought on my part.” She paused for a moment, gave him a fat smile. “Did you not notice the score of palm trees—so very tropical they look, and so very distinctive—and the silver maple and oak trees I had planted along the drive? And now all the bare ground is covered with heath and daffodils. They have softened the landscape, which is what I wanted. I always thought Ravenscar looked so brutally stark.”
Actually, Julian had always liked the bar
ren promontory that sloped down until the land fell away gently into the channel. “I must admit the new trees add interest. I suppose since there are no more enemies to invade our shores, Ravenscar has no more need to intimidate anyone, so the clumps of daffodils waving in the breeze add a nice romantic touch.” He paused, thought of Elena, and smiled.
“Ah, Pouffer, here you are at last. Bring on the black cakes for my beautiful son. He is fair to dwindling away before my eyes.”
When Pouffer grandly lifted the silver dome to uncover Mrs. Coltrak’s black cakes, Julian’s stomach growled.
He was drinking his second cup of tea when his mother said, “Lily died three years ago, and you left England, not, of course, to avoid scandal, since there wasn’t any, but to leave the Langworths and their terrible grief, and their blame. It is behind you now, Julian.”
The gentleness dropped from her voice. She became brisk. “You are not getting any younger, dearest. I will remind you yet again that you are turned thirty-two years old. You really must have an heir.”
This was an interesting approach. “An heir? Why? Mother, I’m a duke’s son, true, but I am only a second son, not a duke’s heir. Why is it so important that I produce a male child?”
His very smart mother realized her logic wasn’t sound and retrenched in an instant. “Well, what I really meant is that I have the fondest wish to be a grandmother.”
Now, that was a lie that didn’t bear scrutiny. He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Shall you be called Grandmama, or perhaps Nana Corinne?”
She shuddered.
“Mama, I have no desire to return to London. Indeed, I have an overdue ship from Constantinople, the Blue Star. I must travel to Portsmouth.”
“Why? How can your being in Portsmouth hurry the ship up?”
She had a point.
She hurried on before he could muster another objection. “I miss all my particular friends, dearest. I miss attending balls and routs.” She closed her eyes. “And there are many new plays to be enjoyed on Drury Lane.”
And shopping, he thought.
“And shopping, naturally. I do adore shopping on Bond Street, you know.”
She also adored shopping in Saint Austell, Julian thought, recalling the quantity of clothing bills that arrived punctually on Harlan’s desk.
“And you need to visit your tailor. Your coat is very well indeed, for Italian society, but not exactly what you would want here in London, and your boots, well—”