“Good afternoon, James.” Mother put her cup down and waited for me to approach and kiss her cheek. “I must say I’m surprised to see you here today. That isn’t to say I’m not delighted.”
Things were still chilly between us. I hadn’t seen them or spoken to them since Christmas, when things had been positively frigid.
“I hope you’re both well?” I kissed her cheek, crossed to Father, and shook his hand. Good manners had been ingrained into me, and I could react in no other fashion.
“Quite well. Would you care for a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you, Mother.”
“Nonsense.” She rang for Wilson. “A cup for Mr James, Wilson.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
I sighed and gave it up, accepting the cup when he handed it to me. “Thank you, Wilson.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Will there be anything else, m’lady?”
“No, Wilson.”
He bowed and left the room.
“Now, then, to what do we owe the honour of your presence?” Mother gestured for me to give her my cup. “You’ve been making yourself rather scarce of late.”