“And Grandmama?” Veronica ventured, not looking forward to hearing how her darling eighty-year-old grandmother was handling the news that her husband of over six decades might pass away at any moment.

“As well as can be expected,” Mama replied with a deep sigh.

Veronica expelled a long breath and placed her hands on her lap, staring at them numbly. “I shall return to Whitmore Manor with you tomorrow and ensure Grandpapa has the best, most comfortable holiday possible.” She attempted a brave, hopeful smile, but wasn’t at all certain the strained look that was surely on her face inspired any sort of confidence.

“I’m not going back to Whitmore Manor,” Mama informed her, sitting up even straighter. “Not directly at least.”

Veronica cocked her head to the side and frowned. “What? Where are you going?”

“I’m going to London tomorrow morning…to fetch Justin,” Mama replied.

Veronica’s frown deepened. Justin, her older brother, the marquess, was a bachelor and a profligate who spent most of his days in his London town house sleeping ’til noon, and his nights raking hell in a wide variety of the city’s clubs and gambling establishments. Veronica hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to him in…two years. For excellent reason.

“Ah, yes, must fetch Justin,” Veronica replied, a curt tone in her voice.

“Your brother has every right to know how ill your grandfather is,” Mama replied evenly.

“You’re right,” Veronica allowed, feeling churlish. Mama knew precisely why her son and eldest daughter weren’t on good terms. But Veronica and her brother faked niceties during family holidays for Grandpapa’s sake. It would be no different this Christmastide. “Very well, Mama. Mary and I will set out for Whitmore Manor tomorrow. I will meet you there when you return from London with Justin.”

Mama nodded before clearing her throat. She folded her gloved hands primly in her lap and met Veronica’s gaze directly. “I traveled here to deliver the news in person for another reason also, my dear.”

Veronica swallowed. Hard. Ever since Mama had entered the drawing room and been served a cup of tea, Veronica had been dreading this next part. The real reason for Mama’s visit. Veronica had an awful feeling she knew just what it would be. She stared at her pretty mother with the dark hair and eyes that all four of her children had inherited. Mother’s hair was streaked with gray now, but she was still quite beautiful. Veronica looked like her. Everyone said so. She only wished she were as gracious as Mama. And as strong.

Besides her grace, strength, and beauty, Mama was also still a commanding presence when she chose to be, and she obviously chose to be at present. Her gaze never faltered. “Your grandfather has a final wish,” Mama said, her serious tone conveying the importance of the pronouncement.

Veronica kept her face blank, but her insides had already dissolved into a roiling mass of nerves. She pressed her lips together tightly and delivered the barest hint of a nod.