Seven Minutes in Heaven(95)

Otis had cried at bedtime, and Ruby was treating Ward with cool disdain whenever he entered the nursery. Monsieur Marcel? He hadn’t gone anywhere near the kitchen, but tonight was the first time he’d been served burnt chicken.

Followed by dry cake. There was no mistaking the message.

All the same, he had made the right decision.

He tossed back his brandy with a jerky movement. For all intents and purposes, Lizzie and Otis were his children, and their futures were at stake. Every time he thought about Lady Hyacinth’s syrupy condescension toward Eugenia, or his grandmother’s patent scorn, he realized once again that the choice he’d made wasn’t really a choice at all.

He could not allow Lizzie and Otis to be raised by the duchess, a woman who had abandoned him as a baby. His father had been scarcely eighteen years old, but he hadn’t banished his infant son to the country to be raised by a cowherd. The earl had visited the nursery every day, frequently more than once a day.

As a small boy, Ward had roamed the house at night, and more often than not had ended up in his father’s bed. Looking back, he had to suppose that the earl took lovers, but he had never met them.

Lady Lisette, on the other hand, made no sacrifices for the sake of her children. That sad fact became clearer with every story that Otis or Lizzie blurted out. She had never put her children’s interests before her own: neither their safety, nor their comfort, nor their futures.

And the Duchess of Gilner had shaped their mother into the monster she had become.

The next morning he woke with a groan as his man snapped back the curtains and announced, “Her Grace, the Duchess of Gilner, has arrived, sir. She awaits you in the south parlor.”

Ward rolled over, throwing his hand over his eyes. “Coffee.”

“I regret to inform you, sir, that Monsieur Marcel reports that he used the last of the coffee refining Mrs. Snowe’s Arabian mocha soufflé. Would you care for tea instead?”

He loathed tea, and Marcel knew it. Ward got himself to his feet, silently cursing the brandy he’d downed the night before, and headed for the bathing chamber.

“The bath is slightly chilly,” his man said, after he stepped in. “I’ll add some hot water.” He emptied the smallest kettle Ward had ever seen into the freezing bath, then sailed out of the room. Another convert to Eugenia’s charm.

Once Ward stopped shivering and got himself into clothing—his valet had unaccountably left the chamber—he went to the nursery. Otis jumped to his feet, Jarvis clutched in one hand, and ran toward him. Ward bent just as Otis reached him.

He caught his brother up into his arms, thin legs dangling. He smelled like raisin scone and little boy. “I had a bad dream about Jarvis drowning,” Otis said, settling the rat on Ward’s shoulder.

“Jarvis is a remarkably healthy animal and a good swimmer,” Ward said, putting Otis down. “Just look at him.”

Sure enough, Jarvis’s black eyes were gleaming with good health as he launched himself from Ward’s shoulder to Otis’s.

“If that rat ever jumps on me, I shall let him plummet to the floor,” Lizzie said with relish, joining them.

“Our grandmother has arrived,” Ward told them. “Ruby, would you please bring Lizzie and Otis downstairs in half an hour? Without Jarvis,” he added.

“Oh horrors,” Lizzie moaned. “I loathe the duchess. She’s a gut-griping maggot-pie.”

Eugenia would know which play that fragrant turn of phrase came from. Ward pushed the thought away. “Please do not refer to Her Grace as a maggot-pie,” he said. “The Duchess of Gilner deserves our respect.”

“Why?” Otis asked.

“She is an elder member of our family,” Ward said.

“Mother said she was—”

“Our mother is dead, and I think we would all agree that she was not a good model for proper behavior.”

Lizzie sniffed. “Mrs. Snowe said—”

Ward cut her off again. “Ruby, please dress the children in their best attire to greet the duchess.”

“I will put my veil back on,” Lizzie threatened.

Ward cupped one hand under her defiant, pointed chin. “I will not allow Grandmother to take your veil from you.”

His sister came a step closer and leaned against him. Ward looked up and discovered that Ruby had deigned to give him a smile.

Out in the corridor, Ward realized that he would give almost anything not to have to walk down the stairs to the drawing room. He had never met the duchess before he’d written a letter informing her of the children’s existence.

Her response to the news that she had two more grandchildren had been joyless, and their further encounters downright horrible. For example, when they’d met outside Gunter’s, the expression she’d had on meeting Eugenia—