Page 75 of The Viscount's Silent Pugilist

“I could tell you favored her, and I did not think you’d want your mother meddling in your romance.”

“Since when do you aspire to be a non-meddler?”

She pursed her lips and waggled her finger. “I dare say, you can be a bit obstreperous.”

“Like mother, like son,” he said.

She smiled. “Of course, I only hired Edward because I was worried about her safety.”

“If you have known all along that I favor her, why the ultimatum of having a Lady Love competition?”

She chuckled. “Idle threats. Men can be such featherheads.”

He glared at her. “You were manipulating me.”

“For your own good,” she declared as she patted his cheek.

“Why follow us around this past week, trying to keep us from spending time together after allowing us time alone?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

No, he did not. “The Duke’s Lady Love Choosing Party?” he asked. “Is it really a thing?”

His mother chuckled. “Indeed. According to Helena, she is hosting it, and Tristan is none too pleased.”

Damn unfortunate duke.

Jonathan inclined his chin to the missive. “Is there anything else I should know about?”

“Yes.” She folded the stationery and slid it into his pocket. “Edward wrote that a young woman, dressed as a man, showed up at the Arnolds’ home asking about someone named Christopher.”

A twinge of jealousy squeezed Jonathan’s heart. At least now he knew what Gen had been doing at their house—asking about another man.

She loves you, you sod, he assured himself as he kicked his green-eyed monster to the cobbles. But then why had she been so distant this past week?

“Edward said he will be in touch as soon as he returns,” his mother added.

Now that he was to marry Gen—unless she was having second thoughts—prying into her past without her knowledge felt very unethical.

“Mother, perhaps we should ask Robinson to halt his investigation.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because spying on one’s fiancée is in poor taste.” Even as he said it, the fear that Gen had changed her mind niggled at him.

“Fiancée! Oh, Jonathan, I’m so pleased.” She cradled his jaw. “My baby boy is getting married. I could not be happier.”

“I am hardly a baby.” He chuckled, then grew serious. “We plan to keep it a secret and announce it after her mill.”

His mother pinched her grinning lips between her thumb and forefinger.

“Even before I knew she might be an aristocrat, I asked her to marry me.”

“And obviously she said yes,” his mother said. “I see the way she looks at you. Of course, who wouldn’t adore you?”

He tried to recall Genevieve’s exact words, but she had never acquiesced. However, she’d been crying tears of joy. At least, at the time he’d assumed they were happy tears.

Damnations, what if they weren’t engaged? He and Genevieve needed a moment alone to talk.