Blissful silence. Morgan stood facing his grandmother and absorbed the absolute lack of sound. It was a gift from the gods.
When the silence had stretched to a full minute, the duchess invited comment by simply raising her eyebrows.
Morgan spoke very quietly. “I am telling you, Grandmama, that if I had ever been more than mildly tempted to form an attachment with Miss Christiana Lambert, that conversation with her mother put an end to it. Conversation? It was a monologue.”
Her lips twitched but she did not encourage the subject. “The daughter reminds me of Maddie and your mother.”
And so it was with his grandmother, no subject off limits. “Where are your spectacles, Grandmama? Her hair is dark, not blond. For Miss Lambert everything is anticipation and delight. Maddie observed life. Miss Lambert embraces it.”
“Not the looks, no, Morgan. That inclination to trust, to see things as magic. Your mother was the same.”
Grandmother might welcome the reminder, but he did not. He lived with the fact that Maddie had never known her first Season, had never walked in Hyde Park.
“Do not dwell on it, Grandmama, it does no good.”
She rapped his hand. “I am not being morbid. Some days I am more a part of their world than this one. They are not gone so much as waiting.” She recalled herself to the present before Morgan could grow seriously worried about her state of mind. “You should not have singled the girl out the way you did, boy.”
“Yes, it was stupid, but I assure you, not intentional.” He bent closer. “And surely even you will agree that a morning of Mrs. Lambert is punishment enough, especially when her delightful daughter was in the same room and I was allowed nothing more than the briefest of hellos.”
“Leave the gel alone, Morgan.”
Morgan hid his irritation behind his gamester’s mask and waited for more. He would have thought his grandmother would be thrilled at his courtship of an eligible chit.
“Christiana is too young, too impressionable, and much too taken with your dancing style.”
Is this what the two of them had been talking about while Mrs. Lambert prattled on? It was hard to believe that Christiana had felt comfortable gossiping with his grandmother. “And how is it that you became her confidante so quickly?”
“She sees some parallels in our situations.”
Morgan laughed out loud at that absurdity. “Pardon me, Grandmama? You are an aging widow and she is an eighteen-year-old virgin. Where are there parallels?”
She snapped at him. “We both think you are impertinent.”
He took her hand and kissed it. “I am sorry, ma’am. I would not hurt you for all the world.”
“And we both know you are much too charming to be safe.”
“Did she say that?” He was surprised at how much he wanted to know.
“She had no need to. No woman would deny it. Even her tiresome mother was bewitched.”
He bowed and held his tongue.
“However, even an appealing rogue like you, Morgan, can not expect to find a match so quickly. She tells me she has a beau from home and is not seeking a match.”
He shook his head. “Is there a girl in England who does not have a beau from home, Grandmama?”
“He is on the Peninsula and she intends to be loyal to him.” She paused a moment and then added, “An innocent flirtation is not your usual style, my boy.”
It had been years since she had lectured him on propriety, or was it that she was turning protective of her newest protegee? Morgan held on to his good humor by reminding himself that she lived through her grandchildren now. He should be grateful that she was not trying to bring them together. He took her hand and held it with both of his. “I can see that you are sorely disappointed that your newest friend does not need your help in finding a husband.”
She pulled her hand from his and let her irritation show. “Your cynicism is not one of your more attractive traits, Morgan.”
He straightened, ready to give up his efforts to restore her good humor. “Grandmama, dearest, I am near twenty-seven years old and have been in Town long enough to know what is acceptable and what is not.”
She looked away from him. “Once, just once I would like to see you knocked to your knees. It was the making of your father. It could do you nothing but good.”
He recognized the story coming: how his mother caught and tamed his father. It would be a fairy tale if his mother had lived longer and if his father had not reverted to his old ways.
Grandmama might be forever saying that a happy marriage made life a joy, but she never added what was obvious to him: that the end of a happy marriage made the rest of one’s life an empty misery. Morgan knew a way to distract her and apologized to his youngest brother for offering him up as a sacrifice.
“You were asking about Father before. Rhys arrived in Town today. He may have news of him.”
“Eh? You say Rhys is in Town?”
“He arrived this morning.”
“Riding at night again. The boy will catch his death of a chill.”
Morgan nodded. “He will call as soon as he has rested. He promised.” Morgan lied glibly, but in fact it was the truth. He was going to insist Rhys call before the day was over. There was always the hope that she would be less inclined to meddle in his life with her favorite close at hand. She could worry Rhys to death and leave him in peace.