For a long moment, he thought seriously of going to ground and barring the door. It was why he had chosen to live in remote Chelsea in the first place, so he might avoid unnecessary visitations of this kind.But hiding would be cowardly, and he was not a coward.He was standing in the front hall behind Jinks, having discarded the drink, and straightened his coat and cravat when she was announced.“The Viscountess Balfour, Captain.”“Hello, Mother.” He kissed the soft satin of her cheek.“Hello, darling. Thank you.”“May I show you in?” He held his arm out toward the door of the study.“Not up?” She glanced up the staircase in the general direction of the drawing room. “Still no chairs?”“Nary a one.”“Well,” she sighed, “I live in hope.”He settled her into one of the leather chairs before the fire. She looked light and bright, and entirely out of place, an exotic, tropical bird with her beautiful white hair and her cheerful lavender gown and lace. Even nearing fifty she was still as elegant, graceful, and stylish as she had been in his youth, though the fine merino wool of her high-waisted gown couldn’t be much of a match for the chill she claimed made her feel arthritic.
