“What on earth did that young fool do to force you to leave him?”
“He didn’t want me,” she blurted out.
The duke looked down at her sternly. “Let’s begin with basic truths, my dear. Unless Ward prefers men—which I doubt—he wants you.”
“We had a very enjoyable interlude,” she said, striving for a nonchalant tone. “But he has the new responsibility of raising Lizzie and Otis.”
She stopped. It was humiliating to confess.
“It’s this damn hierarchy, isn’t it?” Villiers said, sadness threading through his voice. “Only after taking my children under my roof that did I understand just what it means to be illegitimate. I’ll never forget one of my sons telling me in a fit of rage that he would have been better unborn.”
“I am so sorry to hear that,” Eugenia said.
“He was wrong,” Villiers said sharply. “The old ranks are falling by the wayside, and new money is shaping new hierarchies. Look at my eldest: Tobias made a fortune and married Lady Xenobia. Didn’t Ward make a fortune on a paper-rolling machine? I recall his father crowing about it.”
Eugenia nodded.
“If the man doesn’t want to marry a woman of higher rank than he,” Villiers said with asperity, “he ought to do it for the sake of those children. The boy has a title.”
She took a deep breath. “It’s the opposite. Ward is of the opinion that Snowe’s Registry has damaged my standing as a lady. He thinks my lost status would be detrimental when it came time for Lizzie to marry.”
Villiers was silent a moment and then barked with laughter. “You must be joking.”
“I’m not. Granted, he doesn’t know my rank—he thinks me a former governess, and told me he had to marry someone ‘to the manner born.’ But more importantly, he doesn’t like the fact I opened a registry. I kept making stupid mistakes,” she said wretchedly. “I think the worst was when I unwittingly took Lizzie to a tent-talk.”
“A tent-talk?” The duke sounded fascinated. “I haven’t sat through one of those rank little gatherings since I was a boy fascinated by hearing the word ‘cock’ said aloud.”
“I didn’t listen,” Eugenia confessed. “I had no idea what it was until later, when Lizzie asked Ward why it was funny that a bed could fit two men and one woman. You can laugh,” she said, responding to his snort, “but Ward was outraged. The talk advertised itself as a lecture on the chemical composition of water, but Lizzie emerged with questions about ‘male froth.’”
“I might be a wee bit angry myself,” His Grace said. “All the same, it sounds as if Ward has turned into a self-righteous prick.”
“No, he hasn’t!” Eugenia said, surprising herself with her vehemence. “He’s doing his best to be a good guardian. He’s utterly determined to provide the children with a conventional life.”
“His mother was Lady Lisette,” Villiers said, after a moment. “I suppose that’s where he got the idea that he should marry someone who conforms in every respect.”
“It’s truly ironic,” Eugenia said shakily. “I was the most conventional woman of my acquaintance until I opened Snowe’s.” A tear slid down her cheek and she dashed it away.
“It was just that sort of foolish reasoning that led me to the excruciating folly of nearly marrying Lisette,” His Grace said with a sigh.
He drew her to her feet and held out the crook of his arm. “Your father will be worried that I’m giving you evil counsel.”
“Have you evil counsel?” Eugenia asked as they began to make their way back across the room.
“Certainly,” Villiers said, a devilish glint in his eye.
“Tell me what to do,” Eugenia said, wanting to hear that she should go back to Ward and fight for love.
Not that she would listen.
“Take a close look at young Evan—Beaumont’s son,” Villiers said. “He’s over there by the door, looking bored because he doesn’t know you’ve joined the party.”
Eugenia sighed. “He’s younger than I am. I mean to find a husband who is at the very least my age.”
“Oh, not to marry,” Villiers said gently. “You’re not ready for that.”
Eugenia gasped. “You are wicked, Your Grace!”
“You have had a run of bad luck, my dear, but in truth, a woman’s first man after a tragedy such as Andrew’s death ought to be an antidote to grief, and from what you have told me, Ward fulfilled his role in that respect. But the second must be for pure pleasure. I suggest Evan. And finally, the third: a new husband. In due course, I shall propose a few candidates for your consideration.”