She felt her heart skitter. “I’ll need some time to adjust—”
At that moment, there was a tap on the door to the drawing room, which was followed by a cough as the door opened.
Belinda was grateful for the interruption.
A butler somberly announced, “The Dowager Marchioness of Easterbridge, has arrived, sir.”
Six
Colin bit back an oath.
His promising interlude with Belinda had been cut short.
His mother came and went from Halstead Hall at her leisure, but she refused to use twenty-first century technology like email or text messaging to presage her arrival. Too common, she’d sniff.
From the look on Belinda’s face, Colin could tell she was as surprised and nonplussed as he was by his mother’s unexpected arrival—but for different reasons, he was sure.
“Colin, what is the meaning of this?” his mother said as she sailed into the room. “Dowager? Kindly instruct your staff that I haven’t been relegated…”
The words trailed off as his mother stopped, realized who else was in the room and widened her eyes.
Colin stepped forward.
“May I introduce my wife, Belinda?” he said, neatly sidestepping the issue of titles and surnames.
After all, one was the Marchioness of Easterbridge and the other the Dowager Marchioness of Easterbridge.
One word of difference disguised the vast gulf between the two women.
Colin watched his mother’s face turn different shades before she opened and closed her mouth.
He raised his eyebrows. “Belinda is residing here.”
Under any other circumstances, it would have been a rather comical statement to make about one’s wife, but all three of them knew there was nothing ordinary about this situation. Why pretend otherwise?
“I thought you meant to find a suitable bride,” his mother breathed.
Obviously, Colin thought wryly, he wasn’t the only one prepared to drop all pretense.
“Belinda is suitable, Mother.”
“She’s a Wentworth,” his mother responded flatly.
“Well, in that regard, you are correct,” he quipped. “Belinda chose to keep her maiden name upon our marriage.”
Apparently anything could be forgiven these days except a family feud. A divorcée, a single mother and the descendant of coal miners had married the heirs to thrones across Europe, but if there was bad blood and scandal between neighbors, then all bets were off.
“How do you do?” Belinda spoke up.
Colin noticed that she maintained an admirable poise under the circumstances, but he wondered whether her question was tongue in cheek.
It was clear to everyone that the older marchioness was doing exceedingly unwell at the moment.
He scanned Belinda’s face, but she didn’t glance at him. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on his mother.
“Colin is correct that I did retain my surname,” Belinda said. “It should be quite easy to avoid confusion, I think, if you remain Lady Granville, and I am styled as Lady Wentworth.”
His mother gave a haughty stare. She was dressed in tweeds, silks and pearls, and her clothes underlined her expression. “Yes, but you would still be the Marchioness of Easterbridge, would you not?”