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when he would return to the Horsham District. And the butler informed her Michael was off to Shipley on a business venture. She had half a mind to head to Bath to visit her best friend. At least Temperance Seward, Countess of Eversham, would be in residence and happy to offer her accommodations until it was time to go to London for the Season.
    “There you are!” Violet called from her salon on the second floor when she spotted Michael on the way to his bedchamber. “It’s been an age since I’ve seen you, darling. Do let me have a look,” she said as she stepped back from having given her younger son a peck on the cheek.
    Michael obliged his mother after returning her kiss. “You’ve been gone a bit longer than usual,” he accused with a raised brow. “Father was ready to send a Bow Street Runner to look for you.” Violet Cunningham’s visits to the Continent rarely last longer than a few weeks, so her absence after a month was a source of worry for her husband.
    A look of surprise crossed Violet’s face but was quickly masked. “I hardly know why. When I left he seemed quite at home with that ... that trollop,” she spat out before lifting her fan from where it hung on her wrist to beat it through the air in front of her.
    A bit stunned at her outburst, Michael set his valise on the threshold and followed his mother to where she usually held court with a bevy of visiting matrons. “What ... or rather, who are you talking about?” he wondered, not aware that his father had any liaisons with prostitutes. Or had taken a mistress. And if he had, he certainly didn’t entertain them at Cunningham Park.
    Violet’s eyes shot daggers at him. “There’s no need for you to make excuses for your father,” she countered, continuing to wave the fan below her chin. Had she been twenty years younger, she would have looked like a nervous chit at her first ball. “I saw her. She arrived just as my coach was leaving for the coast,” she claimed. “She ran right into Cunningham’s open arms,” Violet added with a shake of her head. “You would think she could have waited until I was gone!”
    Michael rolled his eyes and took the seat across from the viscountess. “Mother, the woman you saw wasn’t Father’s mistress. He doesn’t have one, as far I know. The woman was Cousin Colette,” he said quietly, realizing just then that the young woman had arrived at a rather awkward time. “His first cousin, come to stay at Cunningham Park. Her fiancé threw her over for another,” he explained with a deep sigh. Michael shook his head as he realized his mother had been harboring her distrust of her husband for the entire time she’d been away.
    The fan stopped moving and Violet stared at her son. “Truly?” she whispered, the hurt and dread she’d felt every day for over a month suddenly lifting. Oh, how could I have thought he’d taken a lover ? she wondered then, thinking suddenly of Antony, the Italian count who had made it quite clear he was available for a liaison should she wish to have an affaire with him on her terms. He had even offered jewelry.
    But Violet had blushed like a girl still in the schoolroom and thanked him for his attentions, taking her leave of him before he could even kiss the back of her hand. She would never have the courage to take a lover, even if she discovered Mark’s visitor was his mistress. She had no intention of cuckolding the man she had loved for over twenty-five years.
    “Mother, all you would have had to do was simply ask Father,” Michael said quietly, noting how his mother had turned quite pale with his news.
    Violet, no longer near tears, finally looked up to regard him. “I don’t know if I would have believed him,” she replied with a shake of her head and a wan smile. “At least, not that day,” she added with a sigh. After another moment of shared silence, she sighed. “So, where is your father now?” she wondered, taking in a breath and holding it,