This I Promise You (19 page)

“Where’s Ellis?” Edward asked Olivia. “I thought he was coming with you.”

“He couldn’t get away. But don’t worry. Everyone will meet him tonight at dinner.” She looked across the foyer to where the younger girls were huddled together, whispering and giggling as they darted covert glances at Quentin.

Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “You girls look idle,” she told them. “Why don’t you go to the ballroom and practice your waltz for the winter ball?”

“Actually,” Olivia’s eldest daughter interjected, “we were just about to leave. But we’ll be back for dinner this evening.”

The others echoed the same promise as they said their goodbyes to Georgina, Quentin and Lexi before taking their leave.

As the junior debutantes followed their parents out the door, they could be heard whispering to one another, “He’s so tall and
handsome
.”

“And he has the prettiest eyes. So
dreamy
.”

As the door closed behind the fawning girls, Edward gave Quentin a knowing grin. “Looks like you’ve already got yourself a fan club.”

“He’s used to it,” Lexi quipped dryly.

Everyone laughed.

“You all must be tired from your travels,” Edward said. “Let’s get you settled into your rooms.”

As if on cue, a housekeeper materialized to welcome them and introduce herself as Mrs. Branford. She was an older black woman with neat gray hair and a kind face. Her eyes lit up when she saw Junior. She plucked him right out of Olivia’s arms and cuddled him to her, cooing nonsensical endearments. When Junior gurgled back at her, everyone laughed warmly.

As Quentin’s mother watched the housekeeper with her grandson, her smile turned wistful and nostalgic. She looked to Edward and Olivia. “Mrs. Weaver…?”

A mournful glance passed between the siblings before Olivia answered Georgina’s unspoken question. “It’s been eight years now.”

“Eight years?” Georgina whispered.

“Yes. She went quietly in her sleep.” Compassion softened Olivia’s voice. “I’ll walk you down to the cemetery tomorrow. Let you pay your respects.”

Georgina nodded mutely, her eyes moist with tears.

Quentin remembered the many stories she’d told him about Mrs. Weaver, the spirited housekeeper who’d worked for her family since before she was born and had helped raise her. She’d been hoping that Mrs. Weaver had been blessed with the same gift of longevity that Mama Wolf had. Now that her hopes had been dashed, all she could do was mourn the fact that she wasn’t here to say goodbye to her dear old friend.

“Sorry for your loss, Ma,” Quentin murmured.

She gave him a sad smile. “Thank you, Junebug.”

He refrained from adding,
And I’m sorry that your family wasn’t considerate enough to send word so you could attend the funeral.

Olivia took her sister’s hand. “Let’s go for a stroll in the garden. We’ve got so much catching up to do.”

“We certainly do,” Georgina solemnly agreed.

Olivia looked at Quentin and Lexi. “You all can go on up and get some rest before dinner. Mrs. Branford will show you to your room.”

Still carrying Junior, the housekeeper led them up the grand staircase and down a long corridor to an elegantly furnished guestroom on the second floor. It had a marble fireplace, double chandeliers and a sumptuous four-poster bed. Fresh-cut flowers from the garden were arranged in a vase on the bedside table.

The suite came with a private bathroom and an adjoining room that was used as a nursery, a convenience that guests with small children undoubtedly appreciated.

“Someone will bring up your luggage shortly,” Mrs. Branford said between bouncing Junior on her hip and cooing to him.

Lexi smiled at her. “Do you have grandchildren, Mrs. Branford?”

“Why, yes, I do. Eleven grandchildren and six great-grandchildren.” She beamed at Junior. “I just love them at this age. They’re so sweet and precious, aren’t they?”

Quentin and Lexi smiled. “Yes, they are.”

“I’ll feed him and change him for you while you rest up before dinner,” the housekeeper offered.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Nonsense, chile. This is what I do.”

Lexi wavered. “If you’re sure—”

“Of course I’m sure. Been taking care of babies all my life.” She tweaked Junior’s nose and winked at him. “He and I will be just fine.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it,” Lexi acquiesced. “I pumped some milk before we left home. The bottles are in the cooler, which is in the truck with his diaper bag—”

“I’ll take care of it,” Mrs. Branford assured her warmly. “Just make yourselves comfortable and let me know if you need anything at all.”

After the housekeeper departed with their son, Quentin and Lexi sat on the edge of the bed and stared at each other for several moments.

Lexi was the first to speak. “They don’t seem so bad, do they? Your family, I mean. They’re a lot friendlier than I was expecting. Especially your aunt and uncle.”

Quentin was silent.

“You don’t agree?” Lexi prodded.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

Pushing out a deep breath, he got up and walked over to the window to look outside. He could see his mother and aunt strolling arm in arm through the lushly manicured garden. He watched them, marveling at how at ease they seemed with each other. No one observing them would ever suspect that they’d been estranged for more than forty years.

How was that possible? he wondered. How could his mother seem so willing to forgive and forget what her family had done to her?

Lexi rose from the bed and walked over to join him at the window. After watching his mother and aunt for a few moments, she said softly, “What a beautiful sight.”

“It is,” Quentin admitted.

When Lexi smiled at him, he drew her around to stand in front of him, facing the window. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he bent down and nipped her earlobe.

She giggled softly, then leaned back against his chest with a sigh. “Did you know your mother’s childhood home would be so…so…”

“Dope?” Quentin chuckled. “No, I didn’t. I knew her family had money, but I wasn’t expecting anything on this scale. But I guess I should have. She told me stories growing up.”

“But there’s nothing like seeing it in person.”

“Exactly.” He rested his chin on top of her head. He loved the smell of her hair, some sort of fruity shampoo mingled with the scented oil she used.

“Your family certainly seems to have won Junior over,” Lexi observed.

Quentin snorted. “He doesn’t know any better.”

“On the contrary. Babies are the best judges of character.”

Quentin grunted. “We’ll see.”

Lexi turned in his arms, then reached up and framed his face between her hands. Her eyes twinkled as she crooned softly, “
All I am saying
is give peace a chance
….”

The “peace mission” was put to the test an hour later when they were summoned downstairs to meet George and Lenore Harrington.

They left their room and followed Edward down the long corridor, where they met Quentin’s mother at the top of the staircase. Sensing her nervousness, Quentin took her hand and gently squeezed it. “Ready?”

She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, then nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Together they descended the staircase and walked across the foyer with the focused resolve of envoys sent to an enemy nation to broker a peace deal.

George and Lenore Harrington awaited them inside the first parlor. Seated in silk-upholstered chairs by the crackling fireplace, they looked as regal and imperious as a king and queen perched on their thrones. As Quentin approached the arched doorway, he couldn’t help feeling like a lowly peasant who’d been granted an audience with royalty. He wondered humorously if he and his wife and mother would be expected to bow.

George and Lenore made a strikingly handsome couple. Both had fair complexions, keen dark eyes and silver hair that added to their distinguished appearance.

Lenore sat with her head held high, back ramrod straight, legs primly crossed. Her pose struck Quentin as distinctly familiar, and then he realized why. It was the same way his mother sat.

When he turned to glance at her, he saw tears glittering in her eyes. She held them in check, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin.

At the door to the parlor, Edward cleared his throat and announced, “Mom, Dad. I’m—”

George held up a hand. “No need to stand on ceremony, Edward,” he said in a deep, strong voice that resonated with authority. “We don’t need an introduction to our own daughter and grandson.”

George and Lenore stared long and hard at Georgina, their eyes devoid of emotion. She returned their scrutiny, keeping her gaze steady with a supreme effort of will.

“Georgina,” her father said at last. There was a tremor in his voice that suggested he wasn’t as unmoved by the reunion as he appeared. “You’re looking well.”

“Thank you, Daddy. So are you.” Georgina nodded to her mother. “Both of you.”

Lenore tipped her head in acknowledgment. Even at her advanced age, she was still a beauty with her fine features, unblemished skin and dainty figure. Wearing pearls and a long burgundy dress made of crushed velvet, she was the epitome of elegant refinement.

“So this is our grandson,” George said gruffly.

“Yes.” Georgina gave Quentin a warmly affectionate look. “This is my Junebug.”

George and Lenore’s focus shifted to Quentin. They studied him intently, sizing him up as he stared back at them with calm defiance. Their expressions softened for the first time, and something like pride flickered in their eyes.

“Hello, Quentin,” Lenore said in smooth, cultured tones. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Quentin inclined his head, but didn’t return the sentiment.

“This must be your wife,” Lenore continued. “How do you do, Alexis?”

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington.” Lexi looked like she wanted to curtsy. “It’s so nice to meet you. You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you, dear.” Lenore motioned them forward. “Do come and sit with us.”

They entered the parlor. Georgina and Edward sat in silk-upholstered chairs with carved wooden armrests while Quentin and Lexi sat together on an antique sofa.

“Where’s your son?” Lenore asked them.

No sooner had the question left her mouth than Mrs. Branford sailed through the door with Junior. “Here he is,” she announced in a singsong voice. “Fed, bathed and ready to meet his great-grandparents.”

“Wonderful,” Lenore said briskly. “Bring him here so we can have a look at him.”

Mrs. Branford carried Junior over to her employers. George and Lenore took one look at him and started beaming.

“What a handsome little fella,” George declared.

“Yes, he is.” Lenore held out her arms for the baby.

Junior stared at her for a moment, then opened his mouth and began to wail.

Lenore drew back in affront.

“Oh, dear,” the startled housekeeper fretted as Junior burrowed against her as if he were trying to get away from his great-grandparents.

When Lexi shot an embarrassed glance at Quentin, he gave her a darkly amused look. Hadn’t she told him that babies were the best judges of character? It seemed she was right after all.

As Junior’s wails grew louder, Lexi got up and hurried over to take him from Mrs. Branford. She cuddled him and soothingly patted his bottom while she apologized to George and Lenore. “I’m so sorry. He’s had a long day, and sometimes he gets cranky when he hasn’t had a decent nap.”

As Junior’s sobs subsided, Lexi kissed his forehead and stroked his hair. “All better now?” 

He blinked at her, his lashes spiky with tears. Just when it seemed the storm had passed, he hazarded another look at his frowning great-grandparents. Almost at once, his chin wobbled and he burst into fresh wails.

As George and Lenore exchanged indignant glances, it was all Quentin could do not to howl with laughter.

Flustered and baffled by their son’s behavior, Lexi muttered another apology and headed quickly out of the room. The concerned housekeeper wasn’t far behind.

Lenore watched them go, her lips thinned with displeasure. “That child has been coddled too much.”

“Not at all,” Georgina said defensively. “Quentin Junior is the happiest baby I know. I keep him all the time, and I’ve never seen him react that way to anyone before.”

Lenore sniffed haughtily. “I suppose he’s simply not accustomed to meeting new people.”

Edward looked amused. “He didn’t have a problem with me. Nor any of the others, for that matter. And he took to Mrs. Branford like a duck to water.”

When his mother skewered him with a glare, Edward laughed. That small act of defiance earned him a few cool points with Quentin.

Just then the sound of a man’s voice came from the foyer. It was followed unexpectedly by Junior’s infectious gurgle of laughter.