Seven Minutes in Heaven(88)

Ward wanted her. His lovemaking had only become more passionate, if that was possible. They hardly slept; last night she had awoken to find him stroking her, her sleepy body already flying toward release.

The question was whether he loved her.

Suddenly Lizzie began shaking with laughter. Indeed, the whole audience was laughing. Eugenia frowned and tried to concentrate, but her mind refused to hold on to facts about decomposition in the state of water.

Let alone understand what was funny about it. She missed that joke, and Gumwater turned to the mysteries of chemical affinities.

Obviously, her feelings were stronger than Ward’s. Her skin prickled with embarrassment at the idea.

If that was the case, she didn’t want to hear it said aloud. The humiliation would be devastating.

Lizzie was laughing again; Eugenia’s arms tightened around her. She felt a near unbearable sadness at the thought of leaving in the morning. She would have been a good mother to Lizzie and Otis. They liked her and trusted her.

Eugenia, better than anyone, would have been able to navigate the choppy waters of Lizzie’s debut, shaping Miss Darcy’s season in such a way that her parentage was viewed as an immaterial fact, far outweighed by her beauty, her composure, and her fortune.

She rested her chin on Lizzie’s hair, wondering if Snowe’s was the main reason Ward was sending her away. If he didn’t raise the subject, she had to say something. If only to assure him that she would discard the idea of a tearoom if he sincerely believed it would imperil Lizzie’s future.

If she said nothing, she would regret it for the rest of her life.





Chapter Thirty-five




Eugenia was dressing for the evening meal when the footman delivered a note.

The children and I await you in the drawing room.



It wasn’t the note of a lover.

She chose a raspberry-striped evening gown with a revealing bodice; no matter how unmoved Ward pretended to be, she knew he still wanted her, even if she wasn’t sure he loved her. With that dismaying thought, she added ruby earrings and lip rouge as well.

In the drawing room, Lizzie was dancing up and down, chattering to Ward, and Otis was sitting on the floor with Jarvis.

Ward was wearing a coat the color of smoke that accentuated his shoulders and made him look so handsome Eugenia felt a painful throb of need. A somewhat humiliating throb, inasmuch as she was about to be summarily evicted from the house.

She nodded to Ward, and crouched to greet Otis, using one finger to stroke his rat between the ears. “Master Jarvis is wearing a very fine cloak tonight.” It was dark green, with gold trim.

“It’s his favorite,” Otis told her.

As whiskery, intelligent-looking animals went, she was forced to admit that Jarvis had charm. Of a sort.

“He must go into his bag during the meal,” she said to Otis. She could hardly ignore Ward, so she straightened and turned. Lizzie was talking a mile a minute, words bubbling out of her as if she were a river.

As she watched, Ward’s brows drew together and he said something sharp. Lizzie scowled right back.

Eugenia smiled reluctantly. Lizzie would drive Ward mad when she came of age. She was too independent and original to blindly obey the intricate codes that governed polite society.

Ward met her eyes, and with a shock she saw that he wasn’t displeased at his sister; he was angry at her. “I gather that you took my sister to a tent-talk, Mrs. Snowe,” he said. “I would that you had sought my permission first.”

Eugenia went over to them, and bent to kiss Lizzie’s cheek before responding. “Permission? To attend a lecture about the composition of water? One doesn’t usually ask for permission to be bored into a stupor.”

“I wasn’t bored!” Lizzie cried. “The talk was funny, even if it was by Mr. Gumwater! I learned—”

“There’s no need to repeat what you learned,” Ward said, cutting her off.

“You are being protective to a fault,” Eugenia observed. “The subject of the lecture was chemistry. Some people may not believe young ladies capable of comprehending scientific concepts, but I hope you are not among them.”

“In fact, Lizzie is showing all too much comprehension,” Ward said grimly. He turned away, as if he couldn’t look at her any longer. “Otis, I think it would be best if you and Lizzie made your farewells to Mrs. Snowe now, and returned to the nursery. You can take your supper there.”

“I don’t want to!” Lizzie protested.

Ward’s jaw tightened.

“It is Mrs. Snowe’s last meal with us,” Lizzie added, jutting out her stubborn little chin.

Apparently, the “tent-talk”—whatever that was—had been the last straw. Eugenia felt a burst of pure rage at the idea that her sins were so egregious that she was no longer invited to dine with the children, but she choked it back.