Seven Minutes in Heaven(17)

His young brother and sister, however, would not be so lucky. Otis would have a difficult time at Eton, and Lizzie’s hopes of making a good marriage were nil.

Mr. Reeve cleared his throat. “As you may be aware, Viscount Darcy died almost two years ago.” His voice was grim. “He and my mother were married.”

Eugenia’s mouth fell open.

Viscount Darcy?

The late Lord Darcy was notorious for having run away from home at age fifteen, accompanied by a much older woman, the daughter of a duke. They disappeared without a trace, and he had remained unaccounted for until news came of his death around a year ago.

There had followed a series of unsavory—if riveting—revelations about the temptress who had lured him from his home. His mother had bitterly blamed the woman for Darcy’s death and had made no bones about sharing her opinion with everyone in society.

“Lord Darcy! Your mother—that means the children’s mother—”

His jaw tightened. “She was Lady Lisette Elys, daughter of the fourth Duke of Gilner. Unlike myself, Lizzie and Otis are legitimate, though the product of a Gretna Green match that could not in any way be considered ordinary.”

Well.

This changed things.

Or did it? Lizzie and Otis were the children of a woman notorious for—to call a spade a spade—being as cracked as an egg. Eugenia hadn’t known about Lady Lisette’s decade with an itinerant theater troupe, but the lady’s seduction of an underage boy had been feverishly discussed.

After all, she had been more than thirty years of age, and Lord Darcy scarcely half that. Society had gossiped about it for months.

“I’m sorry,” she said, a beat too late.

“Obviously, our mother’s identity will become public when the children are introduced to society. I suppose it was too much to hope that it would not be discovered.”

“I’m shocked that no one recognized Lady Lisette on the stage.”

“I asked the children that. Apparently she stained her hair black and always wore a great deal of paint on her face.”

Eugenia had an absurd wish to ease his bleak expression, but there was no escaping the truth. Lady Lisette had been fascinating in all the wrong ways; no one would wish to claim her as a relative.

“I resigned my place at Oxford after the children arrived,” Mr. Reeve said, his voice without inflection. “The university has a morality cause, and they were already winking at my parents’ irregular union  . A mother depicted in the popular press as being as foul as a privy would have been the last straw.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” she offered.

“Thank you, Mrs. Snowe. A woman with your connections could spread gossip without even entering Almack’s. I’ve never been there myself.”

Eugenia had.

Many times.

“I suppose you already know about the assembly room; you’re as ladylike as any lady I’ve met. I don’t mean to condescend,” he continued, digging himself deeper.

“I’m grateful for the compliment,” Eugenia said, saving it up to tell her father—the marquis. He’d roar with laughter at the idea that she was as ladylike as a real lady.

She cleared her throat. “You will have considered this, but your mother’s clandestine marriage means that Otis is the rightful heir to his father’s title and estate.” The current—or soon to be deposed—viscount was a portly man with a wispy beard that gave him a resemblance to an amiable goat.

Mr. Reeve nodded. “The Court of Chancery appointed me guardian after proving the late Lord Darcy’s will and testament. The former viscount agreed to care for the estate until Otis comes of age.”

“You don’t wish to live there?”

Mr. Reeve shook his head. “I have a considerable estate of my own, and he seems to be doing a good job. My people will keep an eye on Otis’s property, of course, but the man is genuinely fond of the people and has kept the house and lands in good condition. I don’t like the idea of taking his title, lands, and occupation in one blow.”

Eugenia nodded.

“The real problem is that the children’s maternal grandmother, the Duchess of Gilner, has filed a plea for a Private act in the House of Lords, which would transfer guardianship of the children and estate to herself.”

“Due to your irregular birth?” Eugenia asked. Her Grace was a stickler when it came to polite society. In fact, she was one of that small group of dowagers who felt that Eugenia should eschew the ton altogether, now that she was “in trade.”

“Precisely. There will be a hearing in a few weeks in response to her plea.”

“Her Grace is a powerful woman,” Eugenia said carefully.