At this point, how would an apology suffice?
A sigh from his mother brought William out of his maudlin thoughts. “If you don’t feel comfortable with a stay at Hadleigh Hall, you can leave, but this rift has gone on long enough.” Strength threaded through her voice that he’d not heard in a year. Perhaps she would rally after all. “It’s been an age since we’ve seen your cousins, and now that both your father and uncle are gone, you boys need to be the bigger men and forgive. As do your sisters,” she added with a significant glance at Isobel.
William tamped on the urge to growl. “It wasn’t our argument.” How his mother had managed to keep the secrets up until this point was beyond him. What sort of hold had his father put upon her over the years?
“Even more reason not to perpetuate the feud.” She lifted a hand and weakly gave it a wave. “Christmastide is for family. We—all of us Stormes—need to act like one, through thick or thin, anger or happiness, joy and sorrow, and everything in between.”
His sister nodded. “I’ve heard Andrew is as surly as a wounded bear. If those rumors are true, then we may very well quit the house party early.” She shrugged. “And if there is to only be family about, it will prove dull anyway.”
William snorted. “You could do with a dose of dullness.” He once more turned his attention out the window. The familiarity of the grounds brought a mixture of nostalgia and unease. “He’s married, from what I gathered in London. How he convinced a woman to wed him is beyond me.”
“That’s uncharitable,” his mother snapped. “Men are capable of change. You can’t make such a judgment until you’ve met him.”
“Perhaps.” He’d need to remember that he didn’t want to be measured by the same stick or circumstances. “I still can’t believe he has the title. He’ll give us all a bad reputation if he’s not careful.”
“Oh, listen to you, Wills.” Isobel tossed her head. The black feather on her bonnet wriggled. “And you assume you could do better? You’re rarely home. Bow Street is as good as your mistress. What’s more, you care not a jot about the rest of us as long as your work keeps you satisfied.” She sniffed. “From my perspective, Andrew has the better of you with a wife. You haven’t managed that.”
“I’m not keen on entering the Marriage Mart,” he retorted, for his youngest sibling always managed to get his dander up.
“Soon you’ll be too old and not a lady in her right mind will want you.” Isobel glanced out the window on her side of the coach and refused to look at him again.
“Children, please. It’s not the best form to bring up the subject of sound minds, given… everything.” His mother clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “What’s done in the past is done. We will all make the best of it in an effort to perhaps see a future within the Stormes. You don’t have any other family, and…” Her voice wavered. Tears filled her eyes. “And I won’t be here for the duration, so it would behoove you to have family about.”
Dear God.Any time a woman cried, he felt ineffectual, but his father had drilled it into him not to show emotion, especially in front of mixed company, so he fought against the fear and uncertainty until he schooled his expression into a blank mask. “Fine.”
Hadleigh Hall came into view. The stately manor house had been the pinnacle of his childhood existence during the summers as well as the winter holidays. Whether he wished them to or not, memories of childhood beset him, about sledding and snowball fights, of walking the acreage, and fishing and swimming, laughing with his cousins, quiet conversations with his father and uncle during twilight hunts.
By the time the coach pulled up the curving drive and then halted before the front of the house, he sighed. “Best have it over with then.”
“Hush, William. All will be well,” his mother said with what appeared to be a mysterious smile. “Now, do let’s go inside and find a fire. I’ll chilled to the bone.”
Some twenty minutes later, Jeffries the butler—damn, how long had he been with the Storme family?—had shown them into the drawing room. Done in shades of blue designed to encourage calm and peace, a cheerful fire danced behind an ornate grate made into the shape of a blue-green peacock. His aunt sat on a sofa with a bit of embroidery in her lap, while another lady sat opposite her in a chair with her feet resting on a cushioned foot stool, but his attention was immediately drawn to his cousin, who stood tense, one hand resting on the high mantel. Tense silence crackled through the room.
As soon as he saw his mother seated on a sofa nearby, he nodded to Andrew. “Hullo, Lord Hadleigh.”
“Cousin William.” The man his cousin had grown into surprised him. Tall, broad-shouldered, a wide chest gave way to a narrow waist and powerful legs as if he were used to taking in regular exercise. His frame suited what would no doubt be an explosive personality if the rumors were true. “It’s good to see you.” There was no trace of pleasure in his face or eyes to substantiate the words.
“I had debated staying in London, quite frankly, for I didn’t wish for the headache this time will inevitably bring.” When anger snapped in Drew’s grey eyes, he rushed to continue. “In any event, introductions are in order.” He laid a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “This is your Aunt Patricia—my mother.” Then he shifted his regard to his sister, who’d taken to prowling about the room, inspecting bric-a-brac and peering into the various paintings in gilt frames that decorated the walls. “And that is your youngest cousin, Isobel.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both again. Let’s hope it’s on better ground.” Andrew came forward. He unbent enough to take William’s mother’s hand and bring it to his lips. “Hullo, Aunt Patricia.” His cultured tones practically purred into the room while William was hard-pressed not to roll his eyes heavenward. When his cousin strode over to Isobel, he calmly steered her over to the rest of the gathering. “Cousin Isobel, I’m glad you came. The last I saw you, you were but a girl of eight.”
To William’s surprise, a pretty blush swept over Isobel’s cheeks. “Much has changed since we knew one another. I’m looking forward to the house party.”
“As am I.” With the ease born of one who’d spent copious amounts of time in society, he gestured her into a chair next to the unknown lady. “I’m sure you both remember my mother, Lavinia.” He nodded at the stately woman with the silver-streaked brown hair. “And this,” he offered a hand to the lady next to Isobel. When she put her fingers into his palm, he gently assisted her into a standing position, taking great care with her as if she were made of the most fragile china, “is my wife, Sarah. Countess Hadleigh, these are but a few of my family members.”
It took all of William’s willpower not to gawk at the pregnant woman. Had his assumptions about Drew been wrong? From the way he acted toward his wife and the fondness in his eyes when he’d talked to Isobel, perhaps he’d changed. “Where are the others?” He wanted the remainder of the introductions over so the lingering awkwardness would fade.
Drew shrugged. He slipped a protective arm about his wife’s waist. “They haven’t arrived quite yet. Perhaps by teatime. I’m expecting my brothers as well as Cousin Caroline.”
“Ah.” William narrowed his eyes. “Could I have a private word, Lord Hadleigh?”
“Why do you choose to stand on ceremony? We’re family.”
“I scarcely know you.” This was naught but a charade and to pretend otherwise was folly.
“Fine.” Anger flashed over his face. “Come with me, William.” The emphasis on his name caused William to clench his jaw. He bussed his wife’s cheek and let her go back to her chair.
“Boys, behave,” his aunt said before she began a conversation with his mother. Isobel immediately chattered at Sarah and talk soon turned to the upcoming birth.