Page 76

Julius could scarcely believe it. His mother was home.

Audrey was ensconced in the library, slogging through the second chapter of the memoirs. Her lack of sleep, her limited German, and the unfamiliar nature of the subject had made progress agonizingly slow. She had just woken from a brief doze, discreetly patting her hair to ensure the pins had held, when a footman knocked and opened the door.

“His lordship has requested an audience in his study, Miss Gideon.”

Audrey blinked in sleepy bewilderment and bobbed a nod. The manservant departed, and Audrey dropped her head into her folded arms with a low groan of despair.

Lord Stirling was back?

How was she to explain what had happened? It turned out there was something worse than facing that fusty lug, Lady Astley, and that was facing a man she respected to explain her utterly mortifying behavior.

Was Lord Stirling aware that Julius had proposed marriage? And how would the earl react to his heir marrying a gentlewoman of no consequence from the country? No one could reasonably argue that she was prepared for the role of future countess.

Anxiety coiled in her stomach. Analytically, Audrey knew it was physiologically impossible for one’s gut to be tied in a knot, but the sensation defied all rational argument. The scandal had caught up with her, and she must now endure the first wave of criticism.

She rose, shaking out her arms and shoulders in a bid to summon her courage, then made for the door. Until the footman had spoken, she had not given much thought to the earl or what he might say about everything that had transpired during his absence. He had been a proper, somewhat distant guardian, and even after months under his roof, Audrey had no clear notion of how he would respond.

It was a short walk from the library to the study, but as she went, she noted the subtle signs of renewed occupation. A footman passed her carrying a large trunk. Odd, considering the earl had been expected to be away only briefly. The household, too, felt taut with alertness. Was it simply the weight of his presence? Or had something changed?

She reached the study door and knocked, waiting for permission before placing her hand on the handle. With her shoulders squared as though bracing for battle, she entered.

Julius and his mother had left Lord Snarling’s study to speak privately. Now they sat on the terrace overlooking the garden, a tray of tea set between them. Julius was still gathering his wits after her unexpected return.

“It is good to see you, Mother,” he said and meant it. He was still rather overcome by the reunion.

“It has been too long. Over six years since I saw you off at the docks.”

Julius could scarcely recall that day, except for having his head buried in a bucket. The Channel winds had blustered with cruel cheer, as though mocking his tendency toward seasickness. He had blessed the moment his boots had touched French soil.

“Is … Penelope …”

“She is upstairs,” Lady Smiling said gently. “Exhausted from traveling, but she will come down for dinner.”

Julius stared out at the neatly clipped hedges, at a loss for what to say next. The timing of his mother’s return was deeply inconvenient. He had not yet explained to his father the contents of Lady Astley’s letter or the macabre events that had led Audrey to go into hiding with him.

And now there was his mother, whom he dearly liked, and whose regard he had always cherished. How was he to explain the proposal he had made? So cold, so transactional? That he might pursue other women in future?

Sitting beside his mother only made the entire affair seem more despicable.

Brendan had been right. Why was he not doing the honorable thing? Not to placate scandal, but from authentic purpose?

His mother’s presence was forcing him to confront an uncomfortable truth.

The real reason Audrey could not be permitted to leave England was⁠—

He cut the thought off.

“How …?” he began, but the words failed him.

Lady Smiling set her teacup down and turned to face him fully, her moss-green eyes calm but bright.

“I have to thank you for bringing me home,” she said softly.

Julius stared, blank. He was light-headed with joy to see her again, mortified that she would soon learn of his appalling behavior toward Audrey, and now, utterly confused by her words.

“I … brought you home?” he asked, uncertain he had heard her correctly.

His mother smiled and nodded. “You did. You said the words your father needed to hear. It made me realize something I had never fully understood before … something about the hazards of high society.”