most polite way to say it.” She wasn’t going to go into Richard’s exact preferences. Her mother didn’t need to know.
Eleanor blinked at her.
“I never liked the man,” she said. “I didn’t like him at your wedding. I didn’t like him through your letters. He was a selfish, grasping, mean person.”
“You never said anything.” Glynis said, surprised.
Her mother sat on the bed next to her. “What was I supposed to say, Glynis? You had agreed to marry him. Nothing I said would’ve made any difference.”
Had she truly been that headstrong? Yes, she had. Perhaps nothing anyone said could have dissuaded her from her decision. She’d desperately wanted to be away from Glasgow, Scotland, and, most of all, Lennox.
Still, in all these years, she’d never heard anything in her mother’s letters remotely critical of Richard. When she said as much, her mother smiled.
“Marriage is forever, my darling child. I knew he was going to be your husband for the rest of your days. He was your choice.”
A very bad choice, another remark she wouldn’t make.
She made a mental note to retrieve the Derringer and tuck it into her reticule. As long as Baumann was around, it wouldn’t hurt to have some protection.
Eleanor’s expression clouded. “God forgive me, though, I’m glad the man is no longer in your life. Not that I would wish an early death on anyone, but it does seem providential, doesn’t it?”
It had been an answer to a thousand prayers, yet another comment she wouldn’t make.
“I do hope you at least chastised him verbally. Threw something at him. How dare the man frequent a brothel!”
Glynis smiled, amusement bubbling from deep inside. How very dear her mother was. In her world, people were either black or white, either good or evil. There was no gray for Eleanor MacIain.
“I can assure you I wanted to pitch something at him, Mother. But it was just easier to go along with the situation as it was. Nothing I said ever affected Richard in any way.”
She didn’t like seeing her mother angry, especially since it did no good in this case. Richard was far beyond any earthly punishments.
Eleanor reached over, tucked a tendril of hair behind Glynis’s ear.
“Did he ever hurt you, my darling girl?”
She shook her head. Physically, Richard had never touched her. Did his constant barrage of criticism count? What about his conscious cruelties like refusing to allow her to come home for a visit? He hadn’t even returned to England when his own mother died. Any emotion he felt was reserved for the diplomatic service.
“It’s glad I am that it’s over and you’re home,” Eleanor said. “What’s done is done.”
She turned her head and studied her mother. “Why didn’t you tell me Lennox was engaged?”
Time stretched and pulled and twisted itself while she waited.
Finally, Eleanor said, “You still feel the same about him, don’t you?”
She shook her head. “Too much has happened. I’m not the same girl I was back then.”
Her mother glanced at her but didn’t comment. Did she believe her?
“It was a very short engagement,” Eleanor said. “Before I knew it, the wedding was canceled.”
“Duncan said her name was Rose.”
Her mother nodded. “Rose Hollis. I quite liked her.”
Is she pretty? Accomplished? Had she kissed Lennox? Had he held her in his arms? From whom did she get those answers? No one. She would have to quash her curiosity. She didn’t want her own past examined; it was hardly fair to want to know everything about Lennox.
She tilted her head back, studying the ceiling. She wasn’t sad but she did feel empty, as if all her memories had been dumped from the trunk where they’d been carefully stored. Nothing was left of the impulsive girl she’d been.
She was Glynis Smythe, widow of the late British attaché Richard Smythe, accomplished Washington hostess, and master spy.
Chapter 12
F or three days Glynis thought about what she discovered on
Eleanor blinked at her.
“I never liked the man,” she said. “I didn’t like him at your wedding. I didn’t like him through your letters. He was a selfish, grasping, mean person.”
“You never said anything.” Glynis said, surprised.
Her mother sat on the bed next to her. “What was I supposed to say, Glynis? You had agreed to marry him. Nothing I said would’ve made any difference.”
Had she truly been that headstrong? Yes, she had. Perhaps nothing anyone said could have dissuaded her from her decision. She’d desperately wanted to be away from Glasgow, Scotland, and, most of all, Lennox.
Still, in all these years, she’d never heard anything in her mother’s letters remotely critical of Richard. When she said as much, her mother smiled.
“Marriage is forever, my darling child. I knew he was going to be your husband for the rest of your days. He was your choice.”
A very bad choice, another remark she wouldn’t make.
She made a mental note to retrieve the Derringer and tuck it into her reticule. As long as Baumann was around, it wouldn’t hurt to have some protection.
Eleanor’s expression clouded. “God forgive me, though, I’m glad the man is no longer in your life. Not that I would wish an early death on anyone, but it does seem providential, doesn’t it?”
It had been an answer to a thousand prayers, yet another comment she wouldn’t make.
“I do hope you at least chastised him verbally. Threw something at him. How dare the man frequent a brothel!”
Glynis smiled, amusement bubbling from deep inside. How very dear her mother was. In her world, people were either black or white, either good or evil. There was no gray for Eleanor MacIain.
“I can assure you I wanted to pitch something at him, Mother. But it was just easier to go along with the situation as it was. Nothing I said ever affected Richard in any way.”
She didn’t like seeing her mother angry, especially since it did no good in this case. Richard was far beyond any earthly punishments.
Eleanor reached over, tucked a tendril of hair behind Glynis’s ear.
“Did he ever hurt you, my darling girl?”
She shook her head. Physically, Richard had never touched her. Did his constant barrage of criticism count? What about his conscious cruelties like refusing to allow her to come home for a visit? He hadn’t even returned to England when his own mother died. Any emotion he felt was reserved for the diplomatic service.
“It’s glad I am that it’s over and you’re home,” Eleanor said. “What’s done is done.”
She turned her head and studied her mother. “Why didn’t you tell me Lennox was engaged?”
Time stretched and pulled and twisted itself while she waited.
Finally, Eleanor said, “You still feel the same about him, don’t you?”
She shook her head. “Too much has happened. I’m not the same girl I was back then.”
Her mother glanced at her but didn’t comment. Did she believe her?
“It was a very short engagement,” Eleanor said. “Before I knew it, the wedding was canceled.”
“Duncan said her name was Rose.”
Her mother nodded. “Rose Hollis. I quite liked her.”
Is she pretty? Accomplished? Had she kissed Lennox? Had he held her in his arms? From whom did she get those answers? No one. She would have to quash her curiosity. She didn’t want her own past examined; it was hardly fair to want to know everything about Lennox.
She tilted her head back, studying the ceiling. She wasn’t sad but she did feel empty, as if all her memories had been dumped from the trunk where they’d been carefully stored. Nothing was left of the impulsive girl she’d been.
She was Glynis Smythe, widow of the late British attaché Richard Smythe, accomplished Washington hostess, and master spy.
Chapter 12
F or three days Glynis thought about what she discovered on
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