“I shouldn’t look for a husband now?”
Villiers had the kind of smile that only a very bad man could give a woman. “You are a widow; so why not be a merry one?”
“I’m glad that you are happily married,” Eugenia said, squeezing his arm. “I would have succumbed to a lure had you thrown me one.”
He snorted. “You are entirely too young for me, my dear. A decade between yourself and Evan is nothing, but the gulf between us is insurmountable. Did you know that Evan is an excellent horseman?”
“I did not,” Eugenia replied.
“Consider the results of regular and vigorous physical exercise,” the duke said, voice grave but eyes dancing. “It develops the body in such attractive and useful ways. Of course, he has brains as well. The lad can’t play chess worth a damn, but he knows an absurd amount about medicine.”
“I shall take it under advisement.” Eugenia leaned closer to kiss his cheek. “You are the best of godfathers.”
“I am enormously fond of you, my dear,” Villiers said. “We all want you to be happy.”
“I shall be,” Eugenia promised.
As they neared the group at the end of the room, Villiers said, “I trust that Ward taught you the value of a French letter?”
“All the different colored ribbons,” Eugenia said, her smile wobbling before she caught it.
“You are ready for adventure,” the duke replied with satisfaction, steering her straight toward Beaumont’s heir.
Evan was nothing like Ward.
Ward was big, muscled, and broody, whereas Evan was tall and lanky, with cheerful blue eyes. He stood to greet them, displaying just the aristocratic, boyish appeal that Andrew had worn so gracefully.
Eugenia extended her hand, and he kissed it.
There was no mistaking the glow of admiration in his eyes. If she wished to be merry, she had the immediate sense that Evan would be happy to help.
Chapter Forty
Fonthill
There was one thought in Ward’s mind: he had to bring Eugenia home, before she met someone else.
He needed a carriage. Now.
It was a pity he’d dispatched with his racing curricle, because he could have caught up with Eugenia—who was trundling along in comfort in his large coach. The old traveling coach that had come with the estate would have to do.
Eugenia had said that she loved him. But that look in her eyes when he sent her away, that desolate look . . .
What if someone was consoling her at this moment? Someone who wasn’t a bastard, in name and behavior?
His jaw set. She was his. He had hurt her, but he’d do anything to change that. He just had to—
How much could you hurt a woman before she turned her back?
What is unforgivable?
He went to the nursery to bid the children goodbye. Otis calmly accepted his explanation that he was going to fetch Eugenia. “Ruby will be with you and the new governess should arrive in a day or so.”
But Lizzie’s too-old eyes met his with a sobering doubtfulness. “Are you certain that she’ll come back with you?”
He sat down. “No, but I hope so.”
Otis had made Jarvis a tunnel with folds of cloth and was trying to lure him through with a piece of bread. “Why did you allow her to leave?”
“I wasn’t certain that she’d be the best mother for the two of you.”
“That’s silly,” Otis said, at the same time Lizzie said, startled, “For us?”
“I was wrong.”
“She saved my life,” Otis said, “that’s what mothers do.”
“What?”
“When I jumped into the water, she swam to get me and went into the weeds and under water, though she doesn’t like putting her head under. It was all Jarvis’s fault.”
Ward swallowed hard. He had as much as accused Eugenia of allowing Otis to swim in deep water, which was as absurd as everything else he’d said to her.
“Jarvis saved himself,” Otis added. “I told you that.”
Ward had never asked Otis for details about his illicit swim since he’d been hell-bent on avoiding thoughts of Eugenia. He hadn’t wanted to utter a sentence that had her name in it.
“She saved your life,” he repeated.
“That doesn’t mean she’ll come back with you,” Lizzie said. “Papa saved your life, Otis, and he—”
She stopped.
Ward sighed. It would take time for all the stories to come out. In their own time, Eugenia had said.
“Give me a hug, you two,” he said. “Wish me luck.”
Otis leaped up and hugged Ward. “Good luck!” he shouted.
Lizzie came to him more slowly. “If she comes back—will she be our mother?”