Cousin. You speak the impossible.’ He handed her a lemon drink, which surprised her as she expected him to give her the punch. ‘I was merely a pawn in the elders’ plan to shake William into the game of producing an heir. William may have let it slip to Mother that he never, ever intended to go through the uncertainty of watching children mature and having the responsibility. He may have felt that Harriet’s birth contributed to his mother’s illness. Everyone else thought so.’
‘Your mother would scheme so?’
‘It is not scheming—it is her family concern. She feels she didn’t assist William enough when his mother died and she is making it correct now.’
The pianoforte sounded and the violinists began. Sylvester stepped closer so he could hear her.
Isabel took in a breath. ‘He was hardly more than a child when his mother died. He couldn’t have been expected to handle it all on his own. And yet I understand he certainly did much of it.’
‘I would say he did all of it. Including the care of his father. The Viscount was near bedfast after the death just because he could not go on. My own mother had her hands full with her family and could not help. William had three sisters. Grieving.’
‘He grieved, too.’
‘I doubt his sisters let him.’ Assured words.
She indicated a glass of the drink for him, but he shook his head.
‘William often confided to me he expected never to marry,’ he said, ‘and part of that was because he wished never to have the worries of children. When I heard you were trained as a governess, the marriage made sense. A woman experienced in care for little ones. William has said to me many times that he managed his sisters and he does not wish to become a parent again. After Harriet got lost in the woods, I heard his recriminations to himself. When Sophia noted how dashing the foxed soldier was and thought he might need a wife to write to, William rushed straight to Mother to get her help. He now has enlisted her assistance on getting the other two wed also. Said she had had good luck with Sophia’s marriage.’
She could not follow his conversation well because her mind had fixed on the first part of it. ‘I don’t think that my training as a governess mattered.’
‘I would not bet the stables on that. Not that I do not think any man would find you appealing for a wife.’ His cheeks reddened. ‘But William was sincere in his intention not to wed. But I can see—’ His face brightened more and he reached for the glass nearest and gulped down some of the lemon drink. Made a face and looked at the glass and swallowed as if trying to get the last vestiges from his taste. ‘A governess. A person to care for the children. You know what I mean.’
‘Yes. But, he is close to his sisters.’
‘In a distant way. He is nearer Sophia now that she has married and has a husband to care for her. If you’ll note, even the horses, Marvel and Ivory, were at his father’s home. William prefers a wide swathe around him.’
‘Thank you for keeping your cousin’s confidences.’
‘I have,’ he said, leaving and tossing a wink her way. ‘With family.’
He moved to the outer doors where William now stood and both began talking.
She didn’t doubt a word Sylvester said. William had put some distance between himself and everyone else. It could have started when his mother died, or when he realised she was sick. Or earlier. It didn’t matter.
Isabel took the lemon drink, finished it and noted the punch with reluctance. She was not sure how it had been mixed. She had heard the drinks ladies mixed for themselves often had more strength than what might be found in the men’s glasses.
Isabel reached for a drink. The punch had its use. She was stranded in a sea of jewellery and wanted something to float about on.
On her first day at what she’d then called Madame Dubois’s School for Abandoned Young Ladies, her parents had done exactly the same. They had introduced her, smiled all around and then she’d been on her own.
Her mother had made her leave her doll at home, telling her that she was all grown up. She didn’t know what had happened to that plaything, but it would be nice to have her now, except, she supposed, the punch was the more mature version.
The liquid slid into her stomach, marking progress with heat. No, she’d never had any drink mixed quite so liberally. Putting the rim of the glass to her lips, she took an even tinier sip than before. Oh, she could quite shake the jewellery if she wished to.
More dancing. The music was quite good. The dancers were quite accomplished. The world was quite perfect around her. Just like the first day of school. Society, even a children’s one, didn’t allow cowering in the corner. Sipping very, very slowly, she examined the room, ignoring the glittery baubles.
This event was to set the stage for the rest of her life. She smiled and replaced the glass, reminding herself that no one could see beyond a confident smile into quivering insides.
Something bumped her from behind and she turned, a turban brushing her face. White hair straggled from the head-covering and one eye had a milky frost and the other a clear chill.
‘Pardon.’ The woman spoke. ‘I have no time for proper introductions. One of my many faults. Not that I have many.’ She looked to her right. ‘You’re not dancing. You should, you know. Does wonders for the complexion. I swear by it.’ She chuckled. ‘I’m at least eighty and I don’t look a day over seventy-eight.’
‘I would agree.’
‘And your name is?’
‘Isabel Balfour. I am married to the Viscount’s son. He is—’
‘Wait.’ The woman raised a hand, stopping the words. Her gloves swallowed her thin arms. ‘You may call me Lady Howell. If you forget, just think of a dog and its bark and then its howl at the moon.’ Her nose wrinkled. ‘That’s how I remember it.’
She looked at Isabel’s stomach. ‘And are you increasing?’
‘No. No.’ Isabel narrowed her eyes, whispering.
‘Well, you better get your mind to it,’ the older woman said, voice strident. ‘That’s your duty now. Heirs.’ She put a gnarled finger out. ‘I had six in the first six years of marriage. Not many can carry that feat off. The trick is that the first one was very early—very early.’ She leaned in and grinned. ‘The second—I wasted no time.’ She counted on her fingers. ‘Three and four, twins. Five, well, what can I say, I had too much wine in celebration of finding a wet nurse for the twins. By six I put my foot down and said, I’d done my duty. I told Lord Howell to keep his distance. He howled.’ She patted Isabel’s arm. ‘My favourite thing to tell people is how Howell howled. He never recovered fully.’
‘I do think it would be nice to have children.’
The woman’s lips tightened and her lower jaw jutted forward as she appraised Isabel. ‘I recommend you stop at three. By the fourth child, they tend to put a strain on your temper.’ She turned away.
Isabel heard her mumble as she left. ‘The little chit cannot carry on a conversation.’
Then
