Malcolm always slept better with Katya in his arms. In fact, he slept a little too well. The first rays of dawn were peeking through her curtains as he drifted awake the next morning. The house was already alive with thumps and footsteps, and all Malcolm could do was pray that it was the servants making the noise and not any of the children.

He scrambled out of Katya’s bed as deftly as his sated, old body could manage, knees creaking as he searched the floor for his clothes from the night before.

“Why are you making all that noise?” Katya asked in half-asleep tones, rolling to her side to face him. She was even more beautiful disheveled from sleep—and other things—than she was in full, formal regalia.

“I need to get to my guest room before the children wake up,” Malcolm whispered. He sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks, but was up again in a flash.

“All right,” Katya sighed, settling against the pillow again and closing her eyes. “If you want to go through all the trouble.”

Malcolm frowned at her. It was her reputation he was protecting by not being found in bed with her. Their children weren’t young anymore, and the damned things had grown far too clever for their own good.

With his shirt, waistcoat, and jacket unbuttoned and his shoes in his hand, he unlocked Katya’s door and tip-toed into the hall. As soon as he shut the door, he turned to find Rupert quietly shutting a door at the other end of the hall. Katya’s son wore a robe, the hem of his pajamas peeking out at the bottom, and he hadn’t yet shaved.

Malcolm felt a moment of panic as their eyes met—a sentiment that was reflected in Rupert’s eyes. A split-second later, rage replaced guilt, and he nearly dropped his shoes.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing, boy?” he growled, marching down the hall to stand toe-to-toe with Rupert. “If I find out you’ve interfered with Cece in any way—”

“This isn’t her room, sir, it’s mine,” Rupert answered in a tight whisper. “How dare you suggest I would dishonor Cecelia that way?”

Malcolm wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or not. “I know what it’s like to be a young man in love,” he said as justification. “But Cece is my daughter.”

“And Katya is my mother,” Rupert snapped.

Damn, the boy was quick. Carrying on with Katya had been much simpler when Rupert was tucked away in the nursery.

“She is,” Malcolm nodded, fighting to keep the upper hand. “And she’s perfectly capable of making her own decisions.”

Before things could get even more awkward, Malcolm squared his shoulders and marched past Rupert to the unused guestroom that was supposed to be his. As he reached for the doorknob, he could have sworn he heard Rupert chuckle. Once he was safely inside the room, he let his shoulders drop and made a face at himself in the mirror. He was far too old for these sorts of shenanigans.

It didn’t take long for him to wash, shave, and dress in clean clothes. Katya’s staff was highly efficient when it came to accommodating guests. Malcolm tried not to think about how often Katya had guests—particularly of a certain ilk—but he never had been any good at curbing his imagination, especially when it came to Katya. As much as he fought it, he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before Christopher Dowland would be creeping down the hall in the early morning, pretending he’d been in the guest room all night.

“Don’t be an ass,” he told his reflection as he tied his tie and straightened his jacket. Katya was and always had been her own woman, and what she got up to on her own time was her business. Or so he insisted to himself. What he actually believed in his heart was another matter. If she would just stop being so stubborn and marry him already, things would be infinitely easier.

Thoughts of marriage were still foremost in his mind as he made his way down to the breakfast room, which was why he stopped short, his heart dropping to his feet, at the sight of Cece standing near the window in her elegant, white presentation gown, Bianca and Natalia with her. Malcolm barely noticed Katya’s girls, though. His eyes were only for his own, darling angel.

“Good morning, Papa,” she said with a radiant and excited smile.

Malcolm simply stood there and looked at her. He wasn’t sure his heart could withstand her beauty. The girl whom he’d done his best to raise in a way that would make her mother proud wasn’t a girl anymore. She looked more like Tessa than ever, with her honey-blonde hair caught up in a fashionable style, her blue eyes the same shape as Tessa’s, and her smile freer than any Tessa had ever worn. There was no doubting whose daughter she was, though. Cece reminded him of everything he’d loved, everything he’d lost, and everything he continued to fight for.

“Papa, are you all right?” Cece stepped away from the window and her friends, coming to meet him in the doorway. “You look…well, honestly, you look as though you’re about to cry.”

“It’s because I am,” he answered in a strangled voice. “You look beautiful.”

“Oh, Papa.” Cece blushed and lowered her eyes, her modesty making her even more of an angel.

Malcolm opened his arms and stepped toward her to hug her, but paused. “I don’t want to crease your gown,” he said, lowering his arms and leaning in to kiss her cheek instead.

“Now you’re going to make me cry,” she said with a sniff. “I’m not finished getting ready, of course,” she went on, stepping around the table to the side where Bianca and Natalia were taking their seats. “I still have to do my hair.”

“What’s wrong with your hair?” Malcolm asked, moving to the sideboard to fix a plate of breakfast.

“She still has to style it,” Natalia informed him, as though she were an expert in all things pertaining to royal audiences. “Unmarried women wear two white ostrich feathers in their hair when they’re presented to the Queen. And we have ever so many more decorations to go with those feathers.”

“We bought special pins that day when we met Inspector Craig,” Bianca said, a dreaminess in her eyes that wasn’t for the pins at all.

“And while it’s not the thing to wear cosmetics at court,” Natalia went on, “we’re going to try to figure out how to put a bit more rose in Cece’s cheeks and lips.”

Malcolm grunted and brought his plate to the table. A moment later, Rupert strode into the room, looking far more presentable than he had earlier. He stopped short at the sight of Cece, looking as though he’d walked into a dream. That put the rose in Cece’s cheeks, all right.

The moment was precious, but it ended all too soon when Rupert glanced sideways toward Malcolm. “Good morning, sir,” Rupert greeted him, clearing his throat and avoiding Malcolm’s eyes.

“Morning,” Malcolm answered, far more interested in his plate than the breakfast fare warranted.

The girls glanced between the two of them with puzzled expressions, but quickly went back to fawning over Cece.

In spite of the awkwardness of that moment, breakfast was a far more agreeable experience than Malcolm was used to his meals being. Katya arrived last and made an entrance, of course.

“What a charming and well-turned-out bunch you are,” she said, looking like a page from a French fashion journal herself in a blue gown that brought out the rich darkness of her eyes. She sat immediately at the foot of the table, opposite Rupert at the head, and reached for the teapot.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Malcolm asked her.

Katya made a noise, her eyes wide with wariness. “I’m far too anxious about today to eat a bite.”

“Really?” Bianca said, sending a sly smile between her and Malcolm. “I’d’ve thought you’d worked up quite an appetite last night.”

Malcolm nearly spit out the gulp of tea he’d just taken. Heat rose up his neck to his face, and he wasn’t sure whether to avoid Bianca’s impish grin or to take her to task for it.

Katya stopped pouring and glared at her daughter. “Hold your tongue or you’ll be sitting out today’s activities.”

“Really, Mama,” Bianca huffed. “You can scold and threaten me all you’d like, but you aren’t fooling anyone.” She glanced to Malcolm to make sure he understood the statement applied to him as well.

Malcolm set down his cup and frowned. “I am astounded at the level of insolence at this table. It might not be my place to reprimand another’s children, but really, girls. If you show this kind of cheek in public, you’ll be banned from society in no time.”

“I don’t care about society,” Natalia declared, tilting her chin up.

“We’re sorry, Papa,” Cece rushed to apologize. Her color was still high, though, and mischief sparkled in her eyes. “But you really aren’t fooling anyone.”

“I just think it’s hypocritical for Mama to spend the night with Lord Malcolm when she won’t even let me say hello to Inspector Craig,” Bianca said, stabbing at her sausage.

Katya was in the middle of stirring her tea and set her spoon down with a loud clatter. “Enough,” she snapped. “Lord Malcolm is right. The two of you are behaving far beyond the pale.”

Bianca and Natalia shrank a bit in their seats, their smug grins disappearing.

“No, Lord Malcolm and I aren’t fooling anyone,” Katya went on. “Not in this house, at least. Yes, we’re lovers. We have been for decades.”

“Decades?” Natalia blinked.

“You’re not ignorant babies anymore,” Katya continued. “Heaven knows you haven’t been raised in what society thinks of as the proper way. I’ve always been free with information when you’ve wanted to know things, and so I’ll tell you this, if only so that you’ll bite your tongues in the future. People live all sorts of different lives. Sometimes they marry and sail through their lives as happy as characters in a fairy story. Sometimes they don’t. And sometimes they find happiness when and where they can, even if it comes outside of the prescribed norms. The secret of life is to know when to declare yourself and when to conduct your business in private. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mama,” Bianca answered, meek on the surface, though Malcolm detected a spark of cunning in her eyes.

“Natalia?” Katya asked.

Natalia stared at her plate with a curious frown. At last, she took a breath and looked up. “What do you mean, ‘decades’?”

Katya’s righteous anger shifted into a tired—and perhaps slightly sheepish—sigh. She glanced to Malcolm, one eyebrow raised as though asking for help.

The corner of Malcolm’s mouth twitched. “Don’t look at me. I’m still waiting to see how far you’re going to go to ruin my reputation in my daughter’s eyes.”

He spoke with enough humor in his tone that Cece merely laughed. “Oh, Papa. Your reputation isn’t ruined at all. I’ve known you and Lady Stanhope were carrying on since I was twelve.”

That had Malcolm’s brow shooting up. “You have?”

“I’ve known since I was ten,” Rupert said from the end of the table as he scanned the headlines in The Times, as uninvolved in the conversation as it was possible to be.

Katya didn’t look surprised, but Bianca’s jaw dropped in outrage. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked her brother.

“It wasn’t appropriate to discuss,” Rupert said, turning a page of the newspaper.

“There,” Katya said, picking up her teacup. “At last, some sense.”

“This is so unfair,” Bianca sighed.

“Did you meet for the first time before I was born?” Natalia asked, strangely quiet.

“Yes,” Malcolm answered. There didn’t seem to be any point in denying things now. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Katya wore a much more cautious expression, however. In fact, it bordered on alarm. “It was a long time ago,” she said, sipping her tea as though thinking about it.

“My first wife, Cecelia’s mother, Tessa, had recently died,” Malcolm explained to Natalia. “Your mother was so kind and helpful as I dealt with that grief.”

Bianca’s eyes went wide, and she jerked to look at Katya. “You were still married to Father?”

Katya flushed, but there was a hardness about her face that wasn’t embarrassment. “My marriage to your father was not a love match,” she said in a tight voice. “We’ve discussed this before. And we will not be discussing it further at the breakfast table. Particularly not when we need to leave for Buckingham Palace within the hour.”

Cece gasped, glancing to the clock that stood on the mantle at the far end of the room. “Oh, dear,” she said, pushing her chair back and leaping to her feet. “I have so much to do and not enough time to do it in.”

“I’ll help you,” Bianca said, standing as well. She hooked her arm through Cece’s and started to rush her out of the room, sending Katya a disappointed look as she went.

“I’ll help as well,” Natalia said, rising more slowly. She followed her sister and Cece, but frowned at Malcolm as she left the room.

When only Malcolm, Katya, and Rupert were left at the table, Malcolm huffed out a breath and sagged back in his chair.

“Strangely enough, exposing my past to my daughter and looking like a fool for it wasn’t on my calendar for things to do today,” he said, though if he were honest, he wasn’t sure whether to be angry or relieved that he wouldn’t have to hide things anymore.

“They all knew,” Katya said with feigned calm. And it was feigned. Malcolm knew her well enough to sense something about the conversation they’d just had was deeply unsettling to her. “It’s better to have it out in the open, now that they’re all adults.”

“I wouldn’t say Natalia is an adult yet,” Rupert commented, turning another page of the newspaper. “I’ll talk to her about keeping family business within the family.”

Rupert didn’t see the stung look Katya sent across the table to him, but Malcolm did. It was painful. Without notice or effort, Rupert had usurped what had been her duty since the girls were born. An odd pang formed in Malcolm’s chest. Katya was a proud woman, God knew. He’d wrestled with her pride for years, but he’d never dented it. He’d never wanted to. Yet with one sentence, Rupert had reduced her to second-rate importance.

“Do you want me to talk to Stewart about bringing the carriage around?” Malcolm offered, searching for a way he could help.

Katya turned the same, stung look on him. “I’m perfectly capable of directing my own staff,” she said, rising and marching from the room.

Malcolm sighed, taking one final bite of sausage before rising himself.

“Don’t mind them,” Rupert said, folding his newspaper. “Everyone’s overexcited today because of the presentation.”

Malcolm shook his head. “You have a lot to learn about being a true man, Lord Stanhope,” he said, standing. “You’ve wounded your mother terribly.”

Rupert blinked, startled. “I have?”

Malcolm sighed and shook his head before marching out of the room.

He wasn’t able to find Katya, which worried him. Although it didn’t worry him for long. Within minutes, the whirlwind of the girls was back, and preparations for departure got underway. Malcolm had his hands full keeping the girls from giggling themselves stupid and aggravating the staff while they did so.

Katya appeared just as they were about to leave the house and pile into the carriage. By all outward appearances, she was as elegant as always, but Malcolm was certain it was all a show.

“Are you all right?” he asked as they climbed into the carriage along with the girls. Wisely, Rupert had chosen to ride his horse behind them, but five people, even in an open carriage, was tight.

“I’ll be fine,” Katya replied as the carriage jostled into motion. “I just hate getting old.”

Malcolm grunted and reached for her hand under the folds of their coats. “I know exactly how you feel, though I would argue that you’re hardly old.”

She smiled at him, and for a moment, the world was right again. The drive to Buckingham Palace was a pleasant one. The April sunshine was warmer than usual, which was a blessing. As they drew closer to the palace, more carriages transporting excited young women and their doting mamas could be seen. People were lining the roads near the palace to get a look at them all. When, at last, they joined the queue of carriages waiting to let debutantes out at the palace door, the crowds were smiling and waving.

“Mama,” Natalia asked as the ripple of impatience was making them all restless. She’d been surprisingly silent through the whole ride, leaving Cece and Bianca to do the chattering.

“Yes, dear?” Katya turned to Natalia.

Natalia pressed her lips together, her brow knitting in a frown. “I’ve just been thinking.”

“Always a good idea,” Malcolm said, praying they’d make it to the front of the line soon.

Natalia glanced at him with a deeply assessing look, then back to Katya. “Is Lord Malcolm my father?”

Malcolm started to laugh.

Katya remained stony-faced and silent, color splashing her cheeks.

Malcolm’s laughter died, and a slipping, swooping sensation filled his gut. His pulse kicked up, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. Eyes wide, he glanced to Natalia. He’d always thought she looked a great deal like Katya, with her dark hair and eyes. But there was something in the shape of her mouth and chin, in the stubborn determination she sometimes showed. He shifted to study Cece, whose mouth had dropped open in shock as the truth dawned on her as well. Yes, there was a resemblance there.

“Kat,” he snapped, his voice barely more than a whisper. He glanced to her, numbness spreading through him at her downcast eyes and guilty expression. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The carriage jerked forward, bringing them to the front of the queue. Footmen in royal livery stepped forward to open the carriage door, one of them offering a hand to Cece.

“Kat,” Malcolm repeated. “Look at me.”

Slowly, with pain pinching her mouth and fear in her eyes, Katya glanced up at him. The truth was there in every guilty line of her face. Natalia was his.