good at managing us. It hardly seems fair that you should take on so much responsibility. It must be wearing on your nerves.”
Lady Gardner leaned toward Restell and divulged in confidential tones, “You cannot appreciate the extent of it.”
“And the sacrifice.”
“Yes, there is that.”
“One wonders that you do not neglect yourself.”
“It is a delicate balance, doing for others and taking care of oneself.”
“I should think so,” Restell said. “We take shameless advantage of your noble nature and profit from your good intentions. You would be well within your rights to throw up your hands and have done with the lot of us, unrepentant ingrates that we are. What a diversion it might be for you to step to one side and observe how we manage without your deft, guiding hand. Now, there would be a lesson for us and considerable comedy for you. Imagine the depth of our appreciation for you in such circumstances.”
“You would all be humbled.”
“Clearly that would be the way of it.”
“I confess, it has a certain appeal.”
“It would serve us right.”
Lady Gardner chose another iced cake as she considered the consequences of her inaction. “You are an original thinker, Restell.”
“Your influence, Mother. It is the very nature of your arguments that compels me to think in novel ways.”
She smiled. “That is a pretty compliment.”
Restell was rather pleased himself, though he took pains not to show it. Deciding he had played his cards as skillfully as was possible at this juncture, he judged the better course of action was to change the subject. He set aside his tea and pointed to the painting he’d been studying when his stepmother entered the salon. “Is that your newest artistic acquisition?”
Lady Gardner swiveled on the bench to improve her line of sight. “The Fishing Village? Yes, that’s new. I told you about it, do you not recall? Of course, you do not. It is as you said, I am taken completely for granted.”
Restell rose to his feet, touching his stepmother’s shoulder lightly as he did so. “Do not be so hard on yourself, Mother. You know that I do not recall much of what anyone says to me.”
Lady Gardner snorted. “I am not fooled. You have a mind like a steel trap, Restell.”
This was not the direction Restell wanted the conversation to take, so he did not attempt to argue the point. “So this is the Vega.”
“That’s right. Do you like it? It seemed as though you were admiring it earlier.”
“I was, yes. It is a departure from his other work, I think. There is a sense of movement here, of activity. I do not seem to remember that Vega has ever rendered a scene with so much industry. The fishermen. Their wives. Children at play. Here is one woman who looks as if she means to abandon the fish she is cleaning and gut her husband. The humor is unexpected. The whole of it puts me in mind of Brueghel.”
“That was my sense also. I wanted it very badly and your father appeased me.”
“Vega still does portraits, does he not?”
“Yes. He has not abandoned his bread and butter. I understand Lady Greenaway has commissioned him to do a family portrait for her. Lord Greenaway is not enthusiastic about the engagement—I have that from your father—and how she will manage to make her five young children sit for it is beyond my comprehension, but she is set on the matter. Sir Arthur is commanding an indecent sum for his work, though I suspect that he will wish he had negotiated a much larger sum when he has met the children.”
Restell chuckled. “When have you had occasion to meet Lady Greenaway’s children?”
“The terrors interrupted the musicale I attended in her home last month.”
“Bad form.”
“They are undisciplined, but that is neither here nor there.”
“On the contrary. Lady Greenaway might be grateful for such insight and advice as you can offer her. We have never interrupted one of your literary salons or evening entertainments.”
“True, but you make no mention of the time the twins dangled you by your heels from the balcony.”
“We didn’t disturb anyone. You would not have known if Ferrin had not tattled.”
She sighed. “That was really too bad of him. I did despair of that boy ever finding a sense of humor. Cybelline has been excellent for him.”
Restell recognized dangerous waters. They were perilously close to discussing the benefits of marriage again. He nearly reeled at the prospect. “If you were to act as a mentor to Lady Greenaway, you could very well be invited to observe Sir Arthur as he creates the portrait. You should indulge your interest in painting, Mother. Think how such an intimate perspective might enhance your own happy talent.”
“My, Restell, but you are clever today.”
He shrugged modestly. “You inspire me.”
“Your father says the same, but he is generally speaking of some political machination. It is difficult to know whether to be flattered.” She finished her drink. “I think I will invite Lady Greenaway to tea soon. Obviously she is in need of some guidance regarding the continued employment of the children’s nanny.”
Restell winced. “Do not say you mean to tell her to release the poor woman from her household.”
“It is sound advice and I intend to give it. I have no expectation that Lady Greenaway should take the children in hand herself. It is not done. Why, they are not even interesting at so young an age. The truth is that Lady Greenaway and her offspring are best served by a reliable, sober nanny. When the children are judged mannerly enough to be presented in public they may be sent to school. The boys will go to Eton or Harrow. The girls will have a governess to instruct them.”
“It seems rather cold-blooded.”
“Does it? I confess, it felt as if my heart was breaking to send Ferrin away, but that is the sacrifice a mother makes in the best interest of her child. You and Ian were already at school when I married your father, but watching you return there after holidays hurt my heart as well. It is only marginally easier with the girls, but they spend so much time with their governess, there are times when one wonders if they are even at home.”
“I hadn’t realized.”
“Of course you did not. Do you imagine I could afford to show weakness? I would have been surrendering your futures. A mother does not do that.” She paused and added softly, “A stepmother does not do that, not if she wishes to honor the woman who came before her.”
Restell closed the distance to her side and bent to kiss her forehead. “You have done my mother proud, dearest. Never doubt that.”
Lady Gardner’s smile was a trifle watery as she patted Restell’s cheek. “What plans have you
