Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped toward him, raising her finger to point at his chest. “I went with my sister, and saw my parents, which was entirely unpleasant.”

Her parents. And he hadn’t been with her for it. Damn it. Although she probably would have swatted away anything he might have done to help.

But she was still speaking. “And the entire evening people were giving me these looks as though my betrothed had finally discovered who I really was. And then a few of the gentlemen offered to comfort me—”

“They did?” Griff interrupted.

She rolled her eyes. “That is not the point of the conversation. The point is that you said you would be there, and you were not. I left after a few hours of pitying looks and whispered asides.

“But I did discover the name of the man who was so rude to me. It turns out, according to my sister Olivia, that Lord Balcham is in debt to her husband. And his debt is due.” She shook her head. “But that is beside the point. Where were you?” she demanded again.

“I am sorry, but there was something I had to do.” Her expression grew more irritated, if that were possible. He cleared his throat, relishing the anticipation of it. “Could you ask Mrs. Wattings to come down? I have something to show her.”

Della looked as though she were going to argue, and then her expression cleared and her eyes widened. “Oh! Is it? Sarah!” she said, turning her head to call up the stairs.

She returned her gaze to him, and he wanted to preen at the look she was giving him now. Not that he didn’t want to preen anytime she regarded him; he did, especially since he knew she both appreciated and deplored it. But now it was so much more deserved.

“What is it?” Sarah began to walk down the stairs, carrying an armful of linens. “I was just rearranging the linen closet. The girls have been using some of the best sheets for their forts.” She sounded rueful, but not dismissive.

What would it have been like for him if he’d had a mother like Mrs. Wattings? Or Della? A mother whose first thought was for her child, not regarding said offspring as an inconvenience?

“Lord Stanbury has something for you,” Della replied. She looked at Griff and spoke in a low tone. “This had better be what I think it is.”

He grinned at her ferocity. “It is, I promise.” He walked forward to Mrs. Wattings, taking the heap of linens from her arms and placing it on one of the chairs arranged along the side of the room. “If I may?” he asked, holding his arm out.

She took it while giving him a bemused smile, and he suppressed his own, not wanting to spoil the surprise too early. Even though it was obvious Della knew what he’d done.