He himself had been living in bachelor apartments at the time and had shut Everingham House up. But last year, when he’d decided to take a bride, he’d reopened it, had it redecorated and some parts of it modernized—the kitchens and the plumbing in particular—and moved back in.

Naturally his mother had conceived a desperate yearning to live there again.

She sighed again, and when he showed no sign of putting aside his correspondence, she said in a plaintive voice, “It utterly exhausts me to venture out into the world, you know.”

“Then why bother?”

“Because I am in despair, Redmond, utter despair!”

He kept writing.

“Despair about you and your situation, Redmond!” Seeming to realize the waspish tenor of her speech, she added, “Dearest.”

He didn’t look up. “Don’t worry your head about me, Mother. There’s no need.”

“But there is need, my son. That frightful aborted ceremony, the gossip, the scandal, the disgrace! The horrid slur on our family name! I am nigh on prostrated with mortification.” She shuddered, unstoppered the tiny vial and took a restorative sniff.

Hart said nothing. There was no point. They’d had this conversation numerous times. Yes, there was gossip, but gossip never lasted. And if she didn’t go to so many parties—forcing herself, naturally—she wouldn’t have to hear it.

“Do not fret yourself, my son, I shall try to weather the storm,” his mother said, rallying bravely. “It’s you I worry about, my dearest. I thought that you were all settled at last, and that finally I could go in peace.” She sank back feebly in her chair and closed her eyes.

“Go where, Mother? Off to Bath again, are you?” He blotted the ink of his letter, folded it and reached for his seal. “Or perhaps a sea-bathing treatment this time? I’ve heard that a bracing dip in the cold salt sea does people a power of good.”

She shuddered and clutched her vial feebly to her bosom. “Such a thing would kill me.”

“Only if you drowned, and I believe there are muscular females at the dipping sites whose job it is to prevent that. It’s perfectly safe.”

She sat up and glared at him. “Don’t be so obtuse, Redmond—my darling boy. You must know that the only thing that keeps me alive—the only thing, dearest—is the desire to see you settled. Married.”

“Then I shall postpone my nuptials indefinitely and provide you with a long life.”

“No! No—oh, but I see you are teasing me, and you really must not.” She waved the smelling salts feebly but with delicate emphasis. “Dr. Bentink says my constitution is extremely fragile and any shock, even a small one, could carry me off.”

Hart didn’t bother responding. Dr. Bentink knew which side of his bread was buttered.