Lifting her chin to better see the stage, Marissa winced as the leading lady began an overblown speech to the actor playing the gentleman who was courting her, though she loved another.
Marissa adored the theater, though not this play. The strident voice of the actress below grated on her nerves, reminding her unpleasantly of Lady Christina Sykes. Which in turn made her think of Haddon. Something she was trying desperately not to do.
I never took you for a coward, Marissa.
Marissa’s fingers folded into her lap. She hadn’t taken herself for one either.
“I said, Mother,” said a voice laced with sarcasm, “I’m planning on assassinating the entire cast because the play is terrible. I’ve seen better performances in the private rooms at Elysium. Will you wait with Elizabeth while I do so?”
Marissa blinked, still thinking of Haddon. “Don’t be ridiculous, Spencer.”
A dark laugh came from her eldest son. “What has you so preoccupied that you cannot even spare me a moment of your attention? I’ve been gone from London for literally years, and I can’t hold your interest for the length of this poorly acted play?”
Spencer was being dramatic. “If you will recall, I showered you with attention when you first arrived. You were so appreciative of my efforts to nurse you back to health that you asked your wife to tell me to leave. You referred to me as Smother and not Mother for an entire week.”
An appalled look crossed his handsome face. “I did no such thing. I can’t believe my wife would disparage me to my own mother. But Elizabeth is a sneaky little thing. Don’t be fooled by her innocent demeanor.” He nodded in the direction of the elegant, ebony-haired young woman seated next to him, who was listening in rapt attention to every word the actors on stage spouted.
The expression on her son’s face spoke of his utter adoration for her. Spencer was completely besotted with Elizabeth. As well he should be. Elizabeth smoothed out Spencer’s caustic edges, bringing him out of the darkness that so often surrounded her son. Marissa thought her newest daughter-in-law quite marvelous.
“I would even go so far as to call her dictatorial.” Spencer bent down pretending to inspect something at his wife’s feet.
“Kelso,” Elizabeth hissed under her breath, cheeks turning red as she spared a discreet look at Marissa. “Remove your hand from beneath my skirts this instant. I am trying to enjoy the play.”
Marissa turned her head with a smile, pretending not to hear Elizabeth’s rebuke. Her son and Elizabeth were very much in love, despite Spencer’s reputation and the age difference between them.
I never thought you a coward, Marissa.
Haddon and the words he’d uttered, the slash of his cheekbones tinted pink with anger, invaded her thoughts more often than she wished. She had a terrible, gnawing suspicion she’d made a mistake that day, one which could not be fixed. It didn’t help that every time she opened the papers, the gossips linked him to Lady Christina Sykes.
Spencer snapped his fingers before her nose. “Mother, stop this instant, or I’ll get the smelling salts.”
Marissa gave him an indulgent look. How she’d missed him while he was on the other side of the world for so many years. All of her ducklings, her sons, niece, and nephew, were happy. Marissa saw that as a personal achievement. And they would all be together during the holiday season for the first time in years. Her heart should have been full. Marissa should be happy.
Yes, but I am not.
“Now that you are no longer instructing Arabella how to be a young lady, a useless task in my opinion—”
“Not so,” Marissa said, her eyes still on the play.
“My cousin is as horrible as ever. Malden has only taught her how to hide it behind affability. Every time she smiles, I’m frightened out of my wits. Her pleasantness is unnatural.”
“Spencer.” Marissa shook her head. “Arabella is content.”
“At any rate, she tells me you’ve taken another difficult young lady under your wing. Truly, Mother, you are a glutton for punishment.”
“I am only offering my guidance.”
Spencer’s lip twitched with amusement. “Will you start a school, Mother, for wayward, mercenary young women in the hopes of turning them into demure little ladies? My wife could benefit from your guidance, I’m sure. Spending years in a convent didn’t make the least impression on Elizabeth. When can I expect you to take her on?”
Elizabeth twisted, pinching Spencer’s upper arm, before returning her attention to the play.
“Ouch.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to his wife’s cheek.
“Elizabeth is perfection as you well know. She is a master at dealing with adversity already. I fear there is little I could teach her.”
Elizabeth leaned sideways across her husband’s lap. “Thank you, Marissa, for noticing my struggles. Every moment is a trial. I pray daily for strength.”
“Sassy little nun,” Spencer muttered.
“Honestly, dear,” Marissa said, placing a hand on Spencer’s arm. “I’m more concerned Arabella has turned into such a gossip. One would think with Lily’s birth and her involvement in Rowan’s various enterprises, she’d be too busy to worry overmuch about me. My life is lacking in excitement. Some might even say I’m boring.”
“You are the furthest thing from boring, Mother. In fact, it is my understanding,” a tiny snort left him, “that you are the life of the . . . house party.”
Bloody Hell. These were not topics Marissa wished to discuss with her adult children. “Was it Brendan or Arabella who told you? The two of them gossip like a pair of elderly ladies over tea.”
Spencer, her dangerous, deadly son, a former assassin and a man few would cross, was giggling like a schoolboy beside her. As if the idea his mother had been caught in a compromising situation with a gentleman was the most humorous thing he’d ever heard.
“Brendan told me. He was appalled by your lack of discretion.”
