After seeing her guests retire for the evening, Lady Thurston made her way to Whit’s study. It was nearing midnight, but she knew he wouldn’t be in his bedchamber. Not for hours yet. Her late husband, she mused, had spent less time in that study over the entire course of his life than her son did in the course of a sennight. There were times she wasn’t sure which of them had the better way of it.
As she had long ago learned the benefits of taking her children by surprise, she didn’t bother knocking on the door.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked as she crossed the room and took a seat in front of the desk. “Oh, never mind, I don’t really care. I wish to speak with you, Whittaker.”
Whit started slightly in his chair before groaning and setting down his quill. “Mother, I love you. I adore you. I’ll admit freely and openly to anyone who cares to listen that it is an honor and a privilege to be your son. I would lay down my life for you, but so help me God, if you’re here to lecture me on my duty to beget an heir, I will pack you off to the continent. To night. This minute.”
“That was quite the loveliest thing you have ever said to me,” she replied with a sniff, clearly unfazed by his threat. “The first part, I mean, and so I forgive you for the latter, which I know to be an empty threat as you could never handle the girls on your own.”
“I am most certainly capable—”
“And I love you too,” she continued as if he hadn’t been speaking at all. “You do know that, don’t you? I sometimes worry I don’t say it enough, or too often as if it’s a trifle.”
Whit came out from behind the desk and placed an affectionate kiss on her cheek. “You needn’t worry on either score.”
She sighed happily. “Excellent. Now go sit down. I have something important to discuss with you.”
“Mother—”
“Would it further my cause if I brought up the subject of an heir on a daily basis?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. Oh, well. As it happens that’s not why I’m here.”
“Why are you here? Not that you aren’t welcome.”
“Delighted to hear it. Now sit.” She withdrew her hand and used it to make a little shooing motion.
Ever the obedient, if somewhat harassed, son, Whit returned to his seat and gave her a pointed look. She wasted no time.
“It is time you set aside your differences with Mirabelle.”
Whit was on guard immediately. “Has she said something to you?”
That wasn’t like the imp, he thought. She had never before complained to his mother about their arguments. She threatened to on a regular basis, but she’d never actually gone through with it.
“No,” Lady Thurston replied, her eyes narrowing. “Should she have?”
Whit thought it best not to answer that. “I’m surprised by the request, that’s all.”
She gave him a long look before replying. “It is not a request, Whittaker,” she stated coolly. “In my presence, the two of you may play nice for my benefit, but I am not a fool. All the ton knows of your adversarial relationship.”
Whit scowled. “I should think people would have more interesting matters to discuss.” At least by now, he silently amended. The animosity between Mirabelle and him was old hat.
“Aside from poverty, oppression, and injustice, there is no matter too insignificant for the ton not to notice,” Lady Thurston replied wryly, “and an earl’s obvious animosity toward a young unmarried woman is always good gossip. I have left you two to your little squabbles because it does you good to lose your head from time to time, and because Mirabelle doesn’t appear to suffer unduly from it, but—”
“What do you mean by ‘unduly’?” Whit cut in. “I have never—”
“Raised a hand to her? Publicly humiliated her since becoming an adult? Yes, I know.”
“The same can hardly be said for her,” he replied, recalling several injuries he’d incurred at her hand.
She gave a small nod. “I’m aware of it. It’s another reason I’ve been reluctant to intervene. In your passion to become the antithesis of your father, you occasionally become a trifle self-righteous. I do admire you, Whit, but it’s not healthy to have the fawning respect and admiration of every human being that crosses your path. Mirabelle is good for you.”
“She broke my nose,” he informed her with a grumble.
“Did she?” She sat up straighter in her chair with unabashed interest. “Did she really?”
“Twice.”
Lady Thurston thought about that for a moment. “Care to tell me why?”
Whit barely stopped himself from grimacing. The first time had been with a billiards ball more than ten years ago—in retaliation for an extremely lewd comment he made when Mirabelle had interrupted a round of serious imbibing with his friend Alex. The second time had been for attempting to lock her in the library during a house party.
Whit shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I will admit, there were some extenuating circumstances.”
“I thought there might be. You lose your head with her from time to time. It’s good for you.”