Page 42 of The Trouble with Tweed

“What a clever way of inviting me to breakfast. Thank you, Claire. I accept.”

She sighed and shook her head. “It has been an interesting Season, to be sure. I never knew that such boring gentlemen could find such fascinating ways of being utterly repellant. Aren’t there any interesting Tweeds?”

Claire winced. Now Michael had her calling them by the ridiculous nickname.

“Unfortunately, no. The phrase ‘interesting Tweed’ is by definition an oxymoron.”

As opposed to Lord Dunfrey, who was just a plain moron, she thought.

“Enough of my worries,” she said, flapping her hand. “How does Sylvia fare this Season?”

“She and Mother are at odds at the moment.”

“Oh dear.” Claire waited a moment, then gently asked, “Any specific reason?”

It was a delicate thing, inquiring about private topics. On one hand, one didn’t want to not ask and therefore seem cold and indifferent. On the other, one didn’t want to be a prying, meddlesome sort of person.

“Anything and everything,” Michael said. “The other day I heard them squabbling about hairpins of all things.”

“That doesn’t sound like an argument that’s impossible to recover from, relationally speaking.”

“If it were only the hairpins, of course I wouldn’t mention it, but it’s everything. Which outings to go to, what gown Sylvia should wear, what blasted hairstyle she should choose.”

They sat for several moments in silence. Michael stared at the shelf on the far wall, his forehead wrinkled.

He finally said, “I think the pressure of the Season is getting to both of them. Mother has already successfully married off my two elder sisters, and each in their first Season. I think she’s concerned she’ll fail with the last one.”

“Surely it isn’t a failure if Sylvia doesn’t marry. Surely that’s too strong of a word.”

He turned to her and arched a brow. “This coming from a young lady who is determined to marry this Season. Won’t you feel it’s a failure if you aren’t engaged by the end?”

“My case is far different than Sylvia’s. You should perhaps remind your mother that Sylvia is young, that she can take two or three Seasons to find her match.”

“I don’t think that either of them believe that. Not really. My mother wants to see Sylvia as well married as our sisters are, and Sylvia wishes to be out from beneath Mother’s watchful eye as soon as possible.”

“Does she have any beaux?”

“She’s remarkably tight-lipped about her prospects, and as I’m so often in attendance here, I haven’t kept as close an eye on her progress as I would have liked.”

A wave of guilt crashed upon her; Claire frowned. “If you need to spend more time attending to your own household, I certainly understand.”

“Not at all. My mother watches her like a hawk. Not to mention our fearsome housekeeper and the footmen who my mother hired for their size and squashed pugilist noses. I almost pity the person who tries anything past innocence within the four wall of that house.” He tossed the brass duck in the air and caught it, then repositioned it on the side table.

“It is interesting that you’ve never taken different lodgings.”

“Is it?” Michael scanned the remaining biscuit offerings on the tea tray and selected one with an orange glaze. “I never saw the need.”

“It’s only that most gentlemen of your approximate age and fortune find it confining to live at home with their mothers.”

“Most of your Tweeds live at home with their mothers,” he pointed out.

She waved a hand in dismissal. “They aren’t at all fashionable or interesting. You’re in a different class altogether.”

Claire felt the sudden need to blush at the admission, but Michael munched at his biscuit as if deep in thought. If he’d noticed her compliment, he was willing to let it pass without remark.

“I suppose it would be different if my mother still treated me as a child. However, she’s treated me as an adult ever since I returned from school. And perhaps if I didn’t like my family, I might have been more inclined to find alternate lodgings. The truth is I enjoy them. I like a full household. My mother’s right—I would find it dreadfully lonely to come home and have no one but the servants there.”

“What about your other pursuits?” she blurted before she could stop herself.