Lord Day and Lady Night

64. 'ello, Future Mum, I'm Smoochin' yer Son

Dinner with the justice would have to be postponed, apparently.

Soon, the three of them were settled inside the carriage, rolling off down the street. Silence pervaded the small space.

Deafening silence.

Lord Patrick had thought he would prefer not to speak for the next ten thousand years, considering the most likely conversation topic. But after sitting in that coach for five minutes, his mother's glare levelled on him, and Amy's grin lighting up one corner of the coach, he changed his mind.

Time to bite the bullet.

"Ehem...Mother, what happened back there....it might have seemed as if it had slight negative impacts on the family reputation, but—"

One finely manicured finger shot up into the air, cutting him off.

"Not one word." Her voice pervaded the interior of the coach like a deadly pestilence. "Not. One. Word. Do you have any idea what would happen if anyone were to overhear?"

Lord Patrick looked around the coach, completely empty but for the three of them, and considered mentioning the fact that they had already chatted about this in a tea salon full of nosy ladies,

"Ehem...certainly, Mother. Let's wait."

Far too soon and yet not nearly fast enough, they arrived in front of an unfamiliar house. Lord Patrick had no need to ask why they were here and not at his family's main town house. After what had just happened, if he thought his mother would be bringing him within ten miles of the place where his little sister lived, he would be very much mistaken.

The coach came to a stop. Her Ladyship's baleful glare fell on Patrick.

"Inside!" she ordered him. Then, turning to Amy, she took the young woman's hand. "Come inside dear, will you? We have things to discuss."

"Excuse me?" Lord Patrick protested. "Why are you acting as if this is all my fault alone?"

His mother sent him a very meaningful look. "You're a man. Of course it is your fault."

With that irrefutable argument, she put an arm around Amy's shoulder and gently led her towards the house and up the steps. Lord Patrick followed, somehow suddenly doubting that the following conversation would end up in his favour.

***

Amy had never had this much fun in her life. And for someone who had sex roughly thirty-six thousand times and was currently fully clothed, that was saying something. She let herself be led into the drawing room, where she found herself seated next to Lady Henrietta Valentina Day on a chaise longue, while the accused—cough, cough, Patrick, cough, cough—was condemned to sit on the footstool.

"So, my dear, we're all safe and sound now, completely safe," the dowager duchess told her in a gentle voice. Far too gentle, in fact. Amy frowned. Why wasn't the lady screaming at her, calling her a hussy and accusing her of seducing her son? What was she thinking?

"Merciful saints!" Shooting a glare at Patrick, Lady Henrietta patted Amy's hand. "I would never have thought that any son of mine would sink so low! To actually force himself upon the help...!"

Ah.

So that's what. Last time the two of them had met was in Lord Patrick Day's domicile, with her dressed as a humble maid. So now, the lady was thinking that he and she...

Amy had to work hard to keep the grin off her face. Never in her life had she been so glad for having dressed up in a sexy maid outfit.

"Mother!" Patrick protested. "I did nothing of the kind! She isn't—"