Page 26 of Eloping With The Princess
“I don’t particularly belong in this world, either,” he told her. It was an honesty so raw that he wanted to go on, tell her the rest, why he didn’t belong. “The truth is that most people will see what they want, believe what they want, no matter if you tell them differently. All will be well, you’ll see.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“Fair enough. Well, I’ll tell you what, if the ball is a disaster and you make a wreck of everything, you have my permission to select any book off these shelves and whack me in the head with it.”
“Truly?” she asked. Then a giggle bubbled over.
He placed his hand over his heart. “It is on my oath.”
“I shall hold you to that,” she said.
“Try to get some sleep, Isabel.” Then, against the desires of his own body, he turned away from her.
Jason had arisen early the following day and gone to see his mother at his brother’s townhome. Contrary to most women in London, she’d always been an early riser. It was the perfect time for them to have a private conversation. Jason knew he’d have questions to answer, especially if he was to expect her to help Isabel settle into life in Society.
She was already seated in the front parlor working on some embroidery when he arrived. She immediately set it aside when he entered the room.
“What a nice surprise,” she said.
“I didn’t think I had much time to get here before you paid a call upon me,” he said.
She smiled. “I am pleased we are seeing things the same. You knew I would have questions.”
“Of course. And,” he paused, searching for the right words, “I have a favor to ask.”
Her brows rose. “You surprise me with a marriage and now you want a favor? If you were a loving son, you’d have more mercy on my health.” She feigned a weak heart by patting herself on the chest.
“Mother, you and I both know you are the very picture of health.”
She waved her hand and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Who is this girl? Aside from the fabled princess of Saldania?”
Jason lowered himself into a chair adjacent to his mother’s settee. He poured himself a cup of tea and idly stirred sugar into it, perhaps just so that he had something to do with his hands. He never had been very accomplished at these sorts of conversations. He was far more comfortable in the thick of the action.
“She is the princess,” he said. “She was raised predominantly here, in London, or the outer reaches of London, rather, at a school called St. Bartholomew’s.”
“That school has a bit of a reputation, although not as bad as the one adjacent to it for boys,” his mother said.
“Yes, I have gathered. In any case, we believe she was hidden there, whether to protect her or for other, nefarious, reasons, we are not certain,” he said.
“And you married her, why?”
“I thought you would be pleased,” he said.
“Jason, I have wanted nothing more than for you to marry and start your own family, you know that. Of course I am pleased. She seems like a lovely girl. But it is obvious you did not marry her for love.”
“Very few people are afforded that.”
She inclined her head. “True. Still, it is something you wish for your children.”
“One out of two isn’t bad odds, Mother.”
“You have not answered my question.”
“I married her, that is the important part,” he said.
“This has something to do with the Brotherhood?”
He shushed her. “You are not even supposed to know about that. And for good reason.”
