She sniffed. “And you claim that only people in society gossip.”
“Trust me, I’m not planning to tell anyone. And it’s not gossip if I get it from the source itself.”
“True. But the answer is complicated. They quarreled over whether he had a mistress. Whether she had a lover. Anything they could find to argue about, to be honest. Papa would go to his club, then not return home until dawn, which infuriated Mama, who was sure he was seeing his mistress. So Mama would disappear for days without telling him where she was going. It drove Papa mad, not knowing where she was. Which is probably why she did it.”
“It must have driven you and Lady Verity mad, too. After all, there’s a reason gentlemen are supposed to be discreet with their paramours, and ladies are supposed to pretend they don’t have any themselves. To avoid upsetting the children. Or so I’m told anyway.”
Her gaze met his. “We got used to it. Eliza was already married by then, but she started coming by our house in Grosvenor Square just to see how Verity and I were managing and to make sure neither Papa nor Mama had killed each other. That would be quite a scandal, you know. Our family supposedly disapproves of scandal.”
So did his, especially the sort of scandal that might break about them if he wasn’t careful. “I can’t blame your family for that. Scandal spawns gossip and makes matters uncomfortable for you in society.”
“Papa generally managed to keep their battles quiet, but not always. It got so the rafters fairly rang with their shouting. Since my own presentation to the queen had just happened, Eliza took me to every event she attended, just to get me out of the house and give me some semblance of a début in society. She was very good at ignoring what was occurring at our home so she could help me—and Verity, during her Season—to make important connections and find friends.”
He shook his head. “Your mother should have been doing that for you, from what I understand.”
“She should have . . . but Mama was never interested in being a mother.” Her tone betrayed a cynicism he didn’t usually hear from her. “Mama is interested in two things these days—having fun and annoying Papa. It was only after she pushed him to the edge by running off with the major-general that Papa decided to sue for divorce.”
“I’m not surprised. Her behavior must have broken his heart.”
“Not really. He just never could stand to let Mama get the better of him.”
Tired of standing outside one of his own carriages, he put the step down and opened the carriage door. Before he could climb in, the footman raced to his side. “Your Grace, you cannot enter!”
“Why not?” he asked irritably, still holding the door open. “It’s my carriage. I should like to sit in it. And perhaps—unfeeling creature that I am—even ride in it.”
Diana seemed to be fighting a laugh as she gazed at Geoffrey. “Thomas is concerned about my reputation. A lady isn’t supposed to be alone in a closed carriage with a man. It could ruin her.”
Geoffrey gestured to the row of carriages, each of which had at least one footman lounging about, not to mention the coachman. “I hardly consider us ‘alone.’ Nor is it a closed carriage. You’ve got every window and curtain open, and it’s broad daylight besides.”
“It’s all right, Thomas,” she said to his damned footman. “I came prepared for this.” She reached behind her bonnet to tug a veil over it, which fell like a shroud about her features.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered under his breath as he pulled up the step and shut the carriage door. “I’ll stand out here.”
“If you wish,” she said lightly. “I certainly wouldn’t want to do anything that might make you uncomfortable.”
“Right.” He gestured to her bonnet. “You can unveil yourself now.” He disliked not being able to see her expressions.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said with clear amusement in her voice. “I find it best to be prepared.”
Suddenly, the carriage shuddered, then crawled forward. “What the hell?” he cried. “You’re moving!” But as he walked alongside, he noticed it only rolled forward a carriage length before halting again.
“We’re in line, you know,” she said.
“I did not know. If you’ll recall, I’ve been in that torture chamber for the past hour waiting for Rosy, who still hasn’t emerged.”
“That’s because she was seventeenth on the list. The line is moving periodically because the carriages are positioned in that same numerical order. And why was it a ‘torture chamber’?”
“Let’s see.” He began ticking things off on his fingers. “My wig itched and I couldn’t move without my sword catching on something.”
Before he could go on, she had the audacity to chuckle. “I see I should have given you the same lessons on walking at Drawing Rooms that I gave your sister.”
“Perhaps so.” He eyed her closely. “Or perhaps you should just have found me a different sword.”
“That did what? Disappeared when you were done with it?”
“Preferably. Speaking of that—” He removed the sword and scabbard and handed it up to the coachman. “Do you have room to stow that beneath your perch?”
“Certainly, Your Grace,” the coachman said as he took it.