Seven Minutes in Heaven(18)

His mouth quirked in a rueful smile. “I considered marrying a lady—any lady—without delay, to atone for my illegitimacy, but I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“It would be difficult to woo under these circumstances,” Eugenia agreed, not allowing herself to smile back.

This wasn’t funny.

Well, it was a little funny.

“But I doubt that the circumstances of your birth are sufficient to overturn Lord Darcy’s will,” she said. “I think Court of Chancery follows paternal wishes whenever possible.”

“Yes, but I was thrown in prison last year. It was an illegal imprisonment by my fiancée’s uncle, but the duchess plans to ask that I be barred from guardianship on that basis.”

“That is terrible,” Eugenia said, losing all wish to laugh.

“The Duke of Pindar, my former fiancée’s husband, will testify on my behalf.”

Eugenia narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you think it’s odd that the Duchess of Gilner is acting as an arbiter of polite society even though her only daughter ran away with Lord Darcy when he was merely fifteen?”

Ward shrugged. “I’d rather not use that against her. After all, the late Lord Darcy’s will has been proved. If I can demonstrate the ability to raise the children according to their station, it would be reasonable to follow their father’s wishes.”

Eugenia had an inkling that it would take more than a good governess to wage war against the contemptuous old woman, but there was nothing she could do to help. “Have you sent in Otis’s name for admission to Eton?”

“Better,” Mr. Reeve answered, with that quick smile of his. “I sent a large donation to commemorate Otis’s father. Darcy was only two years ahead of me.”

Mr. Reeve had been at Eton with his future stepfather? It was a small world, and an odd one.

“I can see Otis racketing around Eton without difficulty,” he added. “It’s Lizzie who poses a problem. I could send her away to school, I suppose, but she wouldn’t fit in with the other girls.”

Eugenia had to agree. “Where did Lizzie acquire her headgear?”

“It was part of Lady Lisette’s costume for playing Lady Macbeth.”

Mrs. Snowe’s eyes melted in sympathy. “That’s heartbreaking.”

Ward wasn’t sure why Lizzie wore the veil, but he didn’t think it was because she wanted to feel closer to her mother. For one thing, she always referred to her mother as “Lady Lisette.”

Mrs. Snowe cleared her throat. “I gather that your mother was not playing minor parts.”

“Lady Lisette took all leading female roles, as I understand. Cleopatra and the like. I suppose I’m fortunate that Lizzie isn’t wearing a gilt Egyptian headpiece.”

“Miss Midge is versatile and creative,” Mrs. Snowe said, sounding as if she were reassuring herself. “I shall dispatch her to you tomorrow; she should arrive in the late afternoon.”

With that, she rose and headed toward the door. Ward followed suit. The way Mrs. Snowe’s hips swayed was transfixing.

He’d like . . .

No.

She was a respectable widow. She wasn’t a woman who would entertain thoughts of an illicit liaison. Anyone could tell that.

Mrs. Snowe stopped at the door. “I believe that Miss Midge will enjoy coming to know your children.”

“Is she likely to faint at the sight of entrails?” Not that Ward thought Lizzie had plans for further dissection.

“I cannot imagine Alithia Midge being unnerved even by the events described in the Book of Revelation.” Mrs. Snowe replied. “She would likely offer the Four Horsemen a cup of tea.”

With that, she opened the door, making it clear that he was expected to leave.

“Lizzie and Otis will be fine,” she said, placing her hand lightly on his for a second. “Children are remarkably good at weathering unusual living arrangements. In fact, placidity produces tiresome adults.”

“That bodes well for their future.”

“Was there anything else, Mr. Reeve?”

Ward had the impulse to tell her everything: that Lizzie was filled with fury instead of grief, that Otis never mentioned his mother and was obsessed with money.

That Lizzie seemed to believe she had magical powers and that Otis saw no ethical problem with stealing money in lieu of earning it, even though gentlemen did neither.

He shook his head. “No, thank you.”

Mrs. Snowe had been a governess, but she was obviously something of a lady as well. Perhaps she’d been a vicar’s daughter.

She was making a deep curtsy, for instance . . .

That bosom.

No man could ignore it.

Surprisingly, Mrs. Snowe extended her hand, not to be clasped but to be kissed, for all the world as if they were taking leave of each other at a ball.