well try to rest. Losing sleep will not help matters.”
But after donning her night rail and climbing into bed, Laura stared up at the canopy. Justin was out there in this enormous city, and there was nothing more she could do except wait for him to return home. If something bad happened to him, she would never forgive herself for bringing him to London.
Someone shook her arm. With a gasp, Laura sat up in bed to find Fran hovering over her and sunlight streaming through the window.
“My lady, your son has arrived home,” Fran said. “I thought you would wish to know straightaway.”
“Yes, of course,” Laura said. “I should dress as quickly as possible.” Afterward, Fran pinned up her hair in a simple style. Laura drew in her breath and reminded herself to stay composed no matter what transpired.
When Laura walked to Justin’s room, she lifted her hand and heard a guttural sound. She opened the door to find her son heaving over a chamber pot his valet held. “My lady,” Hinton said, “you do not wish to witness this.”
She swept inside. “I’ve seen worse.” Over the course of four years nursing her ill husband, she’d learned to stay unruffled for his sake. Nothing she’d done had spared him the indignities of his wasting disease, but she believed her calm manner had helped to some degree.
Justin rolled over on the mattress, putting his back to her, and Hinton took the pot away.
Laura walked around the other side of the bed. “Justin, you’ve been out all night and are obviously suffering from the effects of drinking spirits.”
“Go away,” he muttered, and pulled a pillow over his head.
She yanked the pillow away. “No. You will not hide from me.”
“Sick,” he said.
She walked over to the drapes and pulled them open.
He shielded his eyes. “Stop.”
“No. You are the one who will stop.” She clenched her hands. “You have no idea the trouble you’ve caused.”
“I’m sick. Go away,” he said, rolling in the other direction.
Laura couldn’t reason with him when he was in this condition. She walked over to the china bowl and poured water into it. Then she dipped a cloth into the water, rung it out, and attempted to press it to Justin’s forehead, but he batted it away.
“Rest now, but when you’re better, we must talk,” she said.
After he turned his back to her once more, Laura took the cloth over to the stand. She walked out the door, closed it quietly, and leaned against it. Four short years ago, he’d been thirteen and anxious to play backgammon or cards with her. She’d taught him to dance, but now she needed to teach him something far more difficult to learn—to act responsibly. If she failed, Montclief would take him, and Laura could not bear the thought of losing him. She must take charge, and this time she would not be ignored.
Two hours later, Laura took a deep breath, opened Justin’s door, and directed two footmen bearing empty trunks to proceed into her son’s room. Behind them, Justin’s valet, Hinton, stood stoically until Laura motioned him to enter as well.
Justin bolted upright with the sheet clutched to his chest. “What are you doing?” he croaked.
Laura ignored him and dismissed the footmen. She would ring for them later. “Hinton, please pack all of his belongings with the exception of a change of clothing.”
“No,” Justin shouted.
“Keep your voice down. I warned you more than once,” Laura said, “but you did not take me seriously. You have continued to rebel, so we are returning to Hampshire as soon as the trunks are packed and loaded on the carriage.”
Justin shook his head. “I won’t go.”
Hot anger shot to her temples, but she refused to let him goad her. “You have no choice,” she said. “You have no money, and you cannot pay the lease on the town house.”
Justin turned his attention to Hinton. “Leave us, please.”
When Hinton hesitated in the process of setting a stack of folded neckcloths
But after donning her night rail and climbing into bed, Laura stared up at the canopy. Justin was out there in this enormous city, and there was nothing more she could do except wait for him to return home. If something bad happened to him, she would never forgive herself for bringing him to London.
Someone shook her arm. With a gasp, Laura sat up in bed to find Fran hovering over her and sunlight streaming through the window.
“My lady, your son has arrived home,” Fran said. “I thought you would wish to know straightaway.”
“Yes, of course,” Laura said. “I should dress as quickly as possible.” Afterward, Fran pinned up her hair in a simple style. Laura drew in her breath and reminded herself to stay composed no matter what transpired.
When Laura walked to Justin’s room, she lifted her hand and heard a guttural sound. She opened the door to find her son heaving over a chamber pot his valet held. “My lady,” Hinton said, “you do not wish to witness this.”
She swept inside. “I’ve seen worse.” Over the course of four years nursing her ill husband, she’d learned to stay unruffled for his sake. Nothing she’d done had spared him the indignities of his wasting disease, but she believed her calm manner had helped to some degree.
Justin rolled over on the mattress, putting his back to her, and Hinton took the pot away.
Laura walked around the other side of the bed. “Justin, you’ve been out all night and are obviously suffering from the effects of drinking spirits.”
“Go away,” he muttered, and pulled a pillow over his head.
She yanked the pillow away. “No. You will not hide from me.”
“Sick,” he said.
She walked over to the drapes and pulled them open.
He shielded his eyes. “Stop.”
“No. You are the one who will stop.” She clenched her hands. “You have no idea the trouble you’ve caused.”
“I’m sick. Go away,” he said, rolling in the other direction.
Laura couldn’t reason with him when he was in this condition. She walked over to the china bowl and poured water into it. Then she dipped a cloth into the water, rung it out, and attempted to press it to Justin’s forehead, but he batted it away.
“Rest now, but when you’re better, we must talk,” she said.
After he turned his back to her once more, Laura took the cloth over to the stand. She walked out the door, closed it quietly, and leaned against it. Four short years ago, he’d been thirteen and anxious to play backgammon or cards with her. She’d taught him to dance, but now she needed to teach him something far more difficult to learn—to act responsibly. If she failed, Montclief would take him, and Laura could not bear the thought of losing him. She must take charge, and this time she would not be ignored.
Two hours later, Laura took a deep breath, opened Justin’s door, and directed two footmen bearing empty trunks to proceed into her son’s room. Behind them, Justin’s valet, Hinton, stood stoically until Laura motioned him to enter as well.
Justin bolted upright with the sheet clutched to his chest. “What are you doing?” he croaked.
Laura ignored him and dismissed the footmen. She would ring for them later. “Hinton, please pack all of his belongings with the exception of a change of clothing.”
“No,” Justin shouted.
“Keep your voice down. I warned you more than once,” Laura said, “but you did not take me seriously. You have continued to rebel, so we are returning to Hampshire as soon as the trunks are packed and loaded on the carriage.”
Justin shook his head. “I won’t go.”
Hot anger shot to her temples, but she refused to let him goad her. “You have no choice,” she said. “You have no money, and you cannot pay the lease on the town house.”
Justin turned his attention to Hinton. “Leave us, please.”
When Hinton hesitated in the process of setting a stack of folded neckcloths
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