To Bed a Beauty (Courtship Wars 2)

“I do indeed,” Roslyn said, keeping her voice light. “After meeting you, your grace, I have an excellent idea of what to expect. But I shall allow your son to be the arbiter of my proper conduct.”

Looking irate and offended, the duchess suddenly turned her attention to Drew, as if dismissing Roslyn from her thoughts altogether. “Your rooms have been prepared, Arden. You may join me in the grand drawing room at half past seven for a glass of sherry. You recall that I keep Town hours and dine at eight.”

“I recall quite clearly, Mother,” Drew said mildly.

“I will expect you to have a word with Mathers. She has been more insolent than usual this week, and she knows I cannot rebuke her.”

“Of course, I will speak with her. I intend to visit her shortly.”

He gave her another brief bow and ushered Roslyn from the room. As they escaped down the corridor, she let out her breath in relief.

Drew looked amused and perhaps a little relieved himself. “You handled that quite well. You more than held your own with the Dragon.”

Roslyn smiled. “She is not so bad, if you like haughty, bloodless sort of people.”

“I don’t,” he said abruptly, curtness returning to his tone. “Come, let me show you the library. I think you will appreciate it.”

“Who is Mathers?” Roslyn asked as he led her to another wing. “And why can’t your mother rebuke her?”

“She was first my nurse, then governess, before I was sent off to Eton.”

“Ah, Eleanor mentioned your old nurse. You brought her here to live at the castle when she became too infirm to care for herself. I take it the duchess doesn’t approve of your generosity?”

Drew grimaced. “No. It is a running battle between us, but so far I have won.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I threatened to make my mother move to the dower house if she couldn’t tolerate living under the same roof as Mathers. But of course she doesn’t want to reside in a place only a tenth the size of this.”

Roslyn laughed softly, and Drew found himself relishing the sweet, musical sound. She seemed to understand his sentiments toward his mother perfectly.

“So what do you think of the Castle?” he asked, pleased that she had emerged unscathed in her verbal parries with the duchess.

“It is very beautiful,” Roslyn said carefully.

“But you don’t like it.”

“It is not particularly…welcoming.”

“You noticed,” Drew said dryly.

“You don’t seem to care for it much.”

“No.”

He’d never liked living here, imprisoned by marble and mahogany. As a home, it was too palatial, too cold, too empty…the coldness due in large part to his mother’s presence, Drew was well aware.

He’d never thought of this as home, either, not since leaving for Eton at age six. And even after inheriting the title, he’d absented himself as much as possible whenever his mother was in residence, only visiting to spend time with his tenants and oversee his home farms, particularly testing and experimenting with the newest agricultural methods.

“Would you like to see the grounds?” Drew asked. “They are much more appealing than the house.”

“Yes, very much.”

“Then I will have mounts saddled for a ride this afternoon.”

“Does your mother reside here most of the year?”

“Except for each Season, which she spends in London. Otherwise she holds court here.”