“Lady Weymouth is higher in order of precedence and is beloved of the queen. Her disapproval carries a great deal of weight with the ladies of the ton, and she’s sure to disapprove of anyone who gives her son’s bride a difficult time.”
“Including the mother of the bride?”
“Most definitely, sir,” Eastman replied. “Because Lady Alyssa is your bride, and your mother won’t allow anyone to question your choice or cause difficulties or distress for her. Especially while you’re away at war.”
“Assuming my mother approves of Lady Alyssa.”
“If you chose her, how could she not?”
Griff grinned. “I hope you’re right.”
“Count on it, sir.”
He would have to, Griff decided. For he had no other choice.
Moments later, Griff entered the main salon and found his mother and father waiting.
He crossed the room and embraced his mother, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“That’s all right, my dear,” Lady Weymouth replied as soon as Griff released her. “Your father and I have only been downstairs a few moments ourselves.
Griff shook hands with his father and then turned back to his mother. “You look beautiful, Mother.”
“Of course I do,” she teased, a twinkle in her blue eyes. “I’m wearing almost all of my sparkly Countess of Weymouth finery.”
“You don’t need your sparkly Countess of Weymouth finery in order to look beautiful, Mother,” Griff told her fondly. “It only enhances what you’ve already got.”
She laughed. “Spoken like a doting only son.”
“I am that,” Griff assured her. But even had he not been Cicely Abernathy’s only child, he would have spoken the truth. She was a beautiful woman with delicately formed features, shimmering silver blond hair, and the same bright blue eyes as her son. She wasn’t an especially tall woman, but she was reed slim with the graceful, willowy body of a ballerina and the vivacious personality and the energy of a six-year-old boy.
Griffin adored her.
She looked up at him with the same blue eyes he faced in his shaving minor every morning. “Your father says you’ve something you want to tell us.”
Lord Weymouth poured his wife a glass of sherry and handed it to her, then poured one for himself and one for his son, giving Griffin a moment to compose his thoughts before making his announcement.
Lady Weymouth lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow. “That bad, eh?”
“Not at all.” Griff accepted the glass of sherry from his father, then took a deep breath before blurting out the news. “You see, I’m getting married.”
Lady Weymouth sat up straighter. “To whom?”
“Lady Alyssa Carrollton,” he replied. “The announcement will appear in the morning papers. I wanted to tell you in person before you read it in the papers.”
“This is a bit sudden, isn’t it?” She pinned Griffin with her direct gaze. “And a bit rash, considering that you are about to leave for the Peninsula.” She took a deep breath, and her voice trembled. “You could make the girl a widow.”
Griff didn’t flinch. “I know. The fact that I may not return from the Peninsula is all the more reason I should get married before I go. Ensuring the future of our family is the right thing to do.”
“That sounds exactly as if it came from your father’s mouth instead of yours,” Lady Weymouth commented, glancing at her husband, who remained conspicuously silent.
“It’s still the right thing to do,” Griff answered.
“For us,” his mother replied. “But what about your bride?”
Griffin sighed. “I’d like to think that it’s best for her as well, but the truth is that I don’t know.”
“Does she?” Lady Weymouth asked.