“What did you tell them?”
“I gave them quite a tongue-lashing—bothering an upstanding citizen of Bath and our wonderful country of England. I sent them on their way and told them to never show their faces here again.”
William didn’t know whether to laugh or cry—his mother had told police detectives who believed he was guilty of murder to never show their faces again. “Did they say anything about a warrant?”
“A what?”
“A warrant for my arrest?”
She sucked in a breath and glared at him. “Of course not. And they better not dare come here with something like that. I will get a gun and shoot them.”
“Mother!” Whatever was it with fine well-bred ladies wanting guns? “You will do no such thing. You have never handled a gun, and if you did, you would most likely shoot your foot off.”
She raised her chin. “I can learn.”
The devil take it. Didn’t he have enough on his hands without worrying about Amy and now his mother purchasing a gun and racing off to do damage to themselves?
“Mother, promise me you will not buy a gun.”
“I think it might make me feel secure.”
“No. It will not make you feel secure. You will end up shooting me or one of the staff who startle you. I have never felt the need to protect myself in my own home with a gun. Now promise.”
Images of his mother hanging out the window, waving a gun and taking shots at the police detectives, had his heartbeat picking up speed.
Mother wiped her nose. “I consulted with your dear father last night, and he knows you will overcome this foolishness, since it grows near the time you should be married and filling your nursery.”
William dropped his head in his hands. “Mother, we’ve been through this before. It is not possible to receive information and advice from dear Papa.”
“Nonsense. The link between the two of us does not end with death.”
A change of subject was in order. “You didn’t answer me. Please promise you will not buy a gun.” Just the thought of it made him shudder.
“Very well. But they better not come around here again. I will refuse to receive them.”
Well, that would certainly stop the detectives in their path.
“Why don’t you take a cooling bath and have dinner sent up to your room? Perhaps you might skip the Assembly tonight.”
“No. Not at all. I just love spending time with Lady Amy; she is such a pleasant young woman, and she seems quite fond of you.” That look was in her eyes again.
“Yes, Lady Amy is quite pleasant. Now I think you should take a short rest, have your bath and dinner, and then if you still feel up to it, we will attend the Assembly.”
She patted his cheek. “You are such a fine son. I am so very proud of you.” She stood and kissed him on the head as if he were seven years.
Only a mother would say she was proud of someone who had a murder charge hanging over their head.
It was disturbing that the police had returned so soon. Hopefully it had not been with an arrest warrant. He headed to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. Were it not for the fact that he would be disappointing Amy and his mother, he would skip socializing for the rest of the day and crawl into bed and drink himself into oblivion.
He downed his drink and trudged upstairs. It didn’t bother him at all that he wished Amy was upstairs waiting for him. He could use a bit of consolation right now. Maybe it was time for him to marry. He smiled. The word that had always had him breaking into a sweat no longer seemed so terrifying.
CHAPTER 23
“I don’t understand what is wrong with Persephone.” Amy settled into William’s carriage after wishing Lady Wethington a good evening. “She has been so clingy lately. She doesn’t want me to leave her side.”
“Hasn’t she always been that way? I remember when we …” William drifted off, no doubt remembering their foray into Harding’s house, where Persephone had barked every time Amy walked two feet from her.
“I would say yes, she is a bit attached to me, but it has certainly gotten worse lately.”
“She’s getting old.”
Amy had a difficult time leaving for the Assembly, one place she could definitely not bring her dog. She hated having to trick her in order to depart with any sense of dignity. Right now Persephone was happily gnawing on a bone from Cook. Once she finished that and looked around to find Amy gone, she might begin to wail.
Lady Wethington seemed distracted and a bit on edge. Whatever was troubling her hadn’t kept her from attending the Assembly, though. Amy made a mental note to ask William when they were alone if something was wrong. Men didn’t always notice such things, and he might need some prodding to see what was troubling the woman.
Aunt Margaret had left earlier, once more accompanied by Lord Pembroke. He had apparently returned from the business trip she had told Amy about.
Aunt Margaret was closemouthed about his lordship, and Amy allowed her that discretion, even though her aunt had no qualms when it came to offering suggestions and advice about William.
The gathering was well under way when they arrived. Well-dressed couples swirled around the dance floor to the tune of a quartet. It was late February, and though the Assembly was full tonight, many of the families would soon be leaving to travel to London for the Season.
For at least two decades, American heiresses had made up a sizable proportion of the young ladies presented each Season with the idea of snaring a husband. Railroad barons, hoteliers, and industrial giants in America were anxious to secure titles for their daughters to solidify their social standing in the United States.
English estates had long been financed by agriculture, with England being the worldwide leader in grain production. However, once the United States started cultivating grain on its prairies,
