Seven Minutes in Heaven(16)
No, that wasn’t true. If he wished, he could threaten the dowager with a public description of the one visit he had paid to her daughter, Lady Lisette, as a boy. The House of Lords would relish hearing the details of Lisette’s lunacy.
But he refused to do that. Mad or not, Lisette had been his mother, and he owed her respect.
Ward strode into Mrs. Snowe’s office feeling as irritable as a hungry tiger pacing through high grass. If he’d had a tail, he’d be lashing it from side to side.
She was waiting for him by the same grouping of chairs in which they had sat before, her elegant figure outlined by sunshine coming through the windows. All that red-gold hair of hers was piled on top of her head in a smooth style that dared a man to begin pulling out pins and throwing them to the ground.
All of a sudden, he felt better. The tension in his back eased. No wonder her agency was the best; one instinctively felt that this woman, with all her contained energy and bright intelligence, could solve any problem.
She walked toward him, holding out her hand to shake his. “Good afternoon, Mr. Reeve. How are you? And Lizzie and Otis?”
“We have survived the last few days, Mrs. Snowe. Dare I hope that you have found a governess for us?”
Mrs. Snowe nodded. “I believe so. Her name is Alithia Midge. It’s very difficult to imagine Miss Midge weeping for any reason and, equally important, she is fully capable of preparing Otis for the fall term.”
She took a sheaf of papers from her desk and led him to a chair. “Please take your time in reading the contract; I’m happy to answer any questions you might have.”
He sat, but didn’t read the document. “Does it differ from that pertaining to Miss Lumley?”
“Yes. Miss Midge’s salary is considerably higher than Miss Lumley’s, as Miss Midge is not only highly experienced, but will need all her resources to bring your brother up to an appropriate standard to enter Eton by September.”
“Fair enough,” Ward said, glancing through the first few pages.
“The agreement also allows her more time to herself than a governess normally receives.”
“The registry isn’t charging a larger fee?” he asked, looking at the last page.
Mrs. Snowe shook her head. “My fee is always the same, no matter the situation. We don’t merely place governesses; we support them throughout their tenure with a family. Some will require more help and others none at all. It evens out.”
“I suppose that makes sense.”
“Governesses bear the burden of the household and its children, so I adjust their salaries according to my opinion of a position’s complexities. Miss Lumley was charged with the care of two fragile and darling orphans in need of a soothing environment. She was well-suited to that particular task.”
Mrs. Snowe had a way of saying things in a direct manner although her eyes shone with secret humor. Ward suspected that had she been present at the conjuration of the rabbity spirit, she would have burst out laughing rather than swoon.
“Lizzie and Otis are neither darling nor fragile,” he agreed. “I cannot argue with your assessment that Miss Midge deserves special terms.”
She smiled at him. “The children are fortunate to have you as their guardian.”
“I would not describe them as fortunate,” Ward said, hardness entering his voice. “Three months passed between our mother’s death and the theater troupe’s arrival at my house, whereupon the children were literally dumped on my doorstep. I had no idea they existed.”
He didn’t add that he doubted his mother had loved her children, or had treated them kindly.
Eugenia had thought Mr. Reeve’s eyes were brown, but now they had darkened to the color of burnt amber.
Which was completely irrelevant.
“May I ask how your mother died?”
“According to the children, she developed a lung complaint and was gone in two days. She scrawled a note to me, instructing me to care for them, and sent along her husband’s will, which said the same. And she directed the manager of the theater troupe to leave them off whenever the troupe next visited Oxford.”
A curl of anger lit in Eugenia’s belly, but his mother’s shortcomings were scarcely Mr. Reeve’s fault. “The children’s father . . .” She paused and added delicately, “I gather he passed away as well. Was he known to you?”
“Yes.” His face was stony.
“It will be difficult for Lizzie and Otis to enter society, owing to their irregular parentage.” That was an understatement. Mr. Reeve was illegitimate and it seemed that his siblings were similarly disadvantaged. Thanks to being surpassingly wealthy and the son of an earl, he was welcome anywhere—if he had cared to go.