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her regrets and misery as she stood before him.
    “But here is my truth, Geoffrey. Here is what you must understand. I no longer had to share his home, but I yet share his name. He and I are still bound. I could not change the past, nor could I shape a new future. I could not take a new husband. I could not have more sons, or perhaps a daughter.” She gave an unsteady little laugh. “That hope is behind me now, I know. But there had once been time. He would not grant me that time. After all these years, I am become a ghost, stuck between the old misery and a forever nothingness.” She shrugged, though there was nothing carefree in the gesture. “I could have taken lovers—”
    “Mother!”
    “—But they could not give me a life. I did not want to stain any new children with one man as their father, but another legally bound to them and yet who would never acknowledge them. Do you hear? Do you see?”
    “Not entirely,” Geoffrey spoke softly, and perhaps not quite truthfully. Somewhere during her plea, he had taken up her hands again, squeezing them gently.
    “You must promise me one thing, despite the disgrace, despite the expense. If Miss Hamilton is so unhappy that she comes to you and asks you for a divorce, you will find a way to give her one. You will free the both of you. You must vow to truly escape that which makes both of you miserable.”
    “What if she were miserable but I was not?” He did not tease. He wanted to hear what she had to say.
    She pursed her lips, but her eyes were steady. “If she asks for a divorce from you, then I tell you, her misery must sooner or later be your own.”
    He let go of her hands, yet the release was not a rejection but a consideration. It would be so easy to pacify Mama with a few words. Easy to promise a thing that Miss Hamilton would be highly doubtful to ask of him.
    But Geoffrey did not speak easily or quickly. He peered down into his little-known mother’s eyes, eyes very like his, and discovered he must weigh what she’d said with sincerity.
    He’d seen marital misery, albeit not so much through her. Since their parting, Papa may have taken mistresses—Geoffrey had been deliberately blind to any proofs—but Papa had also sat alone before many a fire, unaware his eldest child stealthfully watched normally unseen tears roll down Papa’s cheeks. Had Papa cried for loneliness? For failing at what others managed? For love lost, or love never found?
    But…the blemish of divorce? The thought was more than shocking. Broken apart as a pair, he and Miss Hamilton would be cast off from the finest society. Friends would turn their backs, not wanting the stain of divorce to brush against them. Whispers would follow everywhere they went. Miss Hamilton would suffer for the worse, probably becoming a complete exile from the haute ton. Surely it was far, far better to live apart, as his parents had done…
    His eyes rose once more to take in his mama’s expression, the tears staining her cheeks. She knew what she asked of him, she knew it full well and yet she still asked.
    Hopes. Dreams. Social standing. His future, and Miss Hamilton’s, so altered by their marriage, would be not only changed again but outright damaged by a divorce. But did the potential for damage outweigh the desire for happiness in the years to come? Had he learned nothing from his parents’ separation?
    “Yes,” he found himself saying. And then, stronger, “Yes. I promise. If Miss Hamilton asks me for a divorce, I will do all I may to grant her one.” The words said, he shuddered in distaste.
    He might have expected Mama to smile in approval or gratitude, but instead she sank against his chest, heaving two great sobs. Just as his arms, unused to touching her, came up to surround her, she pushed against his chest, shook her head, and gave a shaky smile. “Good,” she said, patting the front of his coat with one hand. “Good.”
    Geoffrey gave a self-conscious laugh, a bit hollow. “I cannot