Seven Minutes in Heaven(36)

By the time fresh tea arrived, Ward had been pushed around the table so that he was shoulder-to-shoulder with the marriageable daughter.

“One must assume you have been discussing governesses,” Lady Hyacinth said, “though I cannot imagine why. Mrs. Snowe is an expert.” She patted Eugenia’s hand. “There are those who reprove a woman for engaging in commerce, but I always defend you, Mrs. Snowe. Your endeavors clearly spring from the anguish of having no children of your own.”

To Ward’s admiration, Eugenia’s smile didn’t slip a bit.

“I have asked Mrs. Snowe for a governess,” Ward said, “as I have recently become the guardian to two children.”

“Not your own, surely?” Lady Hyacinth said. “That would make you entirely ineligible, Mr. Reeve, earl in the family or not. Even a paper-rolling machine can’t make up for everything, you know.”

At this grotesquely tactless statement, Eugenia’s smile disappeared.

“They are not mine; their parents are deceased,” Ward stated. He saw no reason whatsoever to reveal any further details, even though all London would know as soon as the Duchess of Gilner’s private act was heard in the House of Lords.

“Mrs. Snowe has been kind enough”—he interpreted a twitch from across the table and smoothly changed direction—“to endeavor to find me a governess. They seem to be in short supply.”

“I knew there could be no unsavory reason for this tête-à-tête,” Lady Hyacinth said. “That’s why I thought it was the perfect moment to introduce my darling Petunia. Mr. Reeve, how is your dear father, Lord Gryffyn?”

“I believe he is well,” Ward said. “He and my stepmother will be traveling in Sweden on a diplomatic mission for a few more months.”

“So brave of them,” Lady Hyacinth said. “I was told that they brought the family with them. Surely it would have been more prudent to leave their precious children at home.”

“My parents would never expose my siblings to danger,” Ward said, showing his teeth in a faint approximation of a smile.

“At the very least, they should have left the heir at home,” she pronounced. “I am proud to say that Petunia has never had even a sip of water from non-native soil. I don’t believe in it.”

Ward glanced at Eugenia, but she was gazing into her teacup as if she were reading the leaves.

“So few people understand the intricacies of polite society,” Lady Hyacinth continued. “It is best not to spend too much time with young children, for example. It excites them and makes them feel that they are important. Time enough when a debut nears. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Snowe?”

“In my experience, it depends on the parents,” Eugenia said, less than diplomatically.

Lady Hyacinth took no notice. “At one’s debut, delicate questions arise that can be answered only by a mother. Take, for example, the problem of elbows. I imagine that you have paid a great deal of attention to that question, Mrs. Snowe.”

Ward enjoyed seeing Eugenia nonplussed. He had the feeling it didn’t happen often.

“I cannot say that I have,” she said, finally.

“Unclothed skin,” Lady Hyacinth pronounced, “is of vital concern. Does one wish naked elbows at the dinner table, or will the gentlemen find it too stirring?” She turned to Ward with a ferocity he’d once seen in a hawk’s eye. “What is your opinion of naked elbows, Mr. Reeve?”

“I have no opinion at all,” he said. This was not strictly true. He had noticed, for example, that Eugenia’s slender arms were quite bare. A man could ignore the conversation and contemplate kissing his way up from her fingertips.

“Fashion is for people of low account,” Lady Hyacinth pronounced. “Those of us born to a high station ignore such trivialities.”

“Mother!” Petunia interjected. “I quite forgot something significant. Mr. Simon Briggs asked me to accompany him for a drive.” She looked mortified, but Ward didn’t think her memory was the cause. In fact, he’d bet Mr. Briggs wouldn’t appear.

The lady surged upright. “My dear Petunia, you mustn’t make a habit of this negligence.”

They all stood and Mr. Sweeney appeared. Lady Hyacinth turned to him. “I shall require my French silvered fox-fur stole with the intact head, if you please. I entrusted it to one of your lackeys when we arrived, and I shall want it returned without a single hair disturbed.”

“Immediately, my lady,” he murmured, sending a waiter scurrying.

“What a charming time we have had,” Lady Hyacinth said, bestowing a wide smile on Ward, who bowed and kissed her hand.