Improperly Wed (Aristocratic Grooms 3)
“Who was this teller of tall tales?”
His mother stopped, frowned and then waved a hand dismissively. “A reader of Mrs. Jane Hollings, who writes a column for some paper.”
“The New York Intelligencer.”
His mother looked at him in distracted surprise. “Yes, I believe that’s it. She works for the Earl of Melton. Whatever could Melton be thinking to own that rag of a paper?”
“I believe that tabloid turns a healthy profit, particularly online.”
His mother sniffed. “It was the downfall of the aristocracy when even an earl went into trade.”
“No, World War I was the downfall of the aristocracy,” Colin contradicted sardonically.
“You can’t possibly have turned up uninvited to the Wentworth nuptials,” his mother repeated.
“Of course not.”
His mother relaxed.
“When Belinda Wentworth’s nuptials actually took place two years ago, I was very much invited—as her groom.”
His mother stiffened.
“My station as a marquess, attributable to centuries of proper inbreeding,” he continued wryly, “forced me to prevent a crime from being committed when it was within my means to do so once word reached me of Belinda’s intention to marry again.”
His mother sucked in a sharp breath. “Are you saying that I have been succeeded as the Marchioness of Easterbridge by a Wentworth?”
“It is precisely what I’m saying.”
His mother looked as if she were experiencing vertigo. The news seemed to hit her with the force of a stock-market crash. Naturally, Colin had been counting on it; otherwise she would have been distinctly not amused by his insouciance.
“I don’t suppose she changed her name to Granville in that chapel in Las Vegas?”
Colin shook his head.
His mother shuddered. “Belinda Wentworth, Marchioness of Easterbridge? The mind revolts at the thought.”
“Don’t worry,” he offered, “I don’t believe Belinda has used the title or has any intention of doing so.”
If Belinda did use the title, his mother would be forced to style herself as the Dowager Marchioness of Easterbridge in order to avoid confusion. It would be viewed as adding insult to injury, Colin was sure.
His mother looked exasperated. “What on earth possessed you to marry a Wentworth in the first place?”
Colin shrugged. “I imagine you could find the answer among the multitude of reasons that other people get married.” He was unwilling to divulge too much of his private life to his mother. Like hell was he going to talk about passion. “Why did you and Father marry?”
His mother pressed her lips together.
He’d known his question would end her query. His parents had married at least partly because they were social equals breathing the same rarefied air. As far as he could tell, it hadn’t been a bad marriage until his father’s death five years ago from a stroke, but it had been a proper and suitable one.
“Surely you can’t mean to stay married.”
“Never fear. I wouldn’t be surprised if Belinda was consulting her lawyer as we speak.”
Colin wondered what his mother would say if she knew that Belinda wanted out of their marriage but he didn’t.
At least, not yet—not until his goal was reached.
In fact, he thought, he needed to call his lawyer and find out how the negotiations for his purchase of the property in question were going.