Jo strode into the drawing room to join her sister. “Sorry to keep you waiting. The girls were showing me a play they wrote.”

Nora looked up from the table on which were stacked several sheets of paper, likely letters of recommendation for the governess Nora was considering since that was what they were meant to discuss. Nora smiled at Jo, her eyes dancing. “Was it the one about the serving maid who marries the prince?”

“Yes. The little stage Titus had built for the dolls is wonderful.”

“I love all the voices they do,” Nora said. “Evie pitches so low for the king.”

Jo chuckled as she sat down beside Nora. “They both have a flair for the dramatic.”

“I’m just so pleased they have each other. Now I need to find a friend for Christopher.” The boy was sleeping at present, but he toddled after his sister and her friend at every possible moment. Sometimes the girls were happy to amuse him—especially when he was an eager spectator for one of their doll plays—and other times, they ruthlessly ignored him. Jo supposed that was the way of things, but couldn’t remember a time when she and Nora hadn’t played together.

Jo flicked a glance at the papers. “Any luck with those?”

“There are a few excellent candidates.” She nodded toward a small stack to her left.

“Just a few?” Jo asked, thinking of Lord Knighton and his desire to also hire a governess.

“So far, yes. There are three I’d like to interview. One looks particularly promising—she’s the youngest daughter of one of Lady Satterfield’s closest friends.” Nora tipped her head to the side, the light from the window catching the red tones in her auburn hair. “I sometimes wonder what might’ve happened if I’d taken a job as a governess instead of a companion. I did consider it.”

Nora had returned to London six years ago after their father had lost all their money, forcing Nora to find an occupation. Jo would’ve taken her sister in, but her husband had insisted that Nora’s scandalous behavior nine years prior wasn’t something he could tolerate at the vicarage.

All Nora had done was allow a gentleman to kiss her. Unfortunately, someone had seen them, effectively shredding Nora’s reputation. In turn, that had limited Jo’s options. She wasn’t able to have her own Season, and she’d been lucky to have an offer of marriage from Matthias Shaw.

Nine years later, Jo didn’t feel particularly lucky. No, Nora was the one whose dreams had come to fruition. But would they have done if she’d taken another path? “You must’ve been destined to be a companion—Lady Satterfield’s companion particularly,” Jo said. For that had led Nora to meet her husband.

Nora shook her head, smiling. “Yes, I suppose it was destiny.” She looked at Jo, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I always wonder about companions and governesses, whether they enjoy their occupation or if they merely had no other choice available to them. Sadly, I think it’s the latter.”

“Didn’t your friend the Duchess of Clare choose to be a companion?” Jo had met her a few times, and had learned that she’d been quite content in her position until she’d met her husband.

“Yes, and Aquilla was going to follow that path until she met Sutton,” Nora said, pulling another letter to the top of her pile and perusing it. “But I’m still not convinced that would really have been their choice—if women truly had choices,” she said with a touch of scorn.

Jo knew that Nora had felt trapped by her mistake, and that it had barely affected the gentleman in question. Yes, women suffered many injustices and were typically not afforded much independence. As a widow, however, Jo possessed a modicum of freedom now, and she knew she wouldn’t want for financial security. Nora had assured her of that.

Still, relying on her sister and settling in as an extraneous member of her household made Jo feel a bit useless. And bored. She’d been used to managing her own household, such as it was. As Nora had said, Jo’s options were limited. She could likely set up her own small household somewhere outside of London, but that sounded lonely. She could try to marry again, but she’d have to find a husband who wouldn’t mind her being barren, and that seemed unlikely. Furthermore, she had absolutely no intention of marrying someone she wasn’t madly and hopelessly in love with. There was absolutely no reason for her to accept anything else. If her disappointing marriage had done nothing else, it had ensured she didn’t have to make that same choice again.

Perhaps she ought to be a companion or a governess. That wouldn’t be boring or lonely. And if she were a governess, that could fulfill her desire to have children. The idea latched on to Jo’s brain and took fervent hold. “What if I became a governess?” she blurted.

Nora’s head came up sharply, and she stared at Jo. “Are you in earnest?”

Jo lifted a shoulder. “Why not? I love children, and I shan’t have any of my own.”

“What of marriage? When I asked you about it before, you said you weren’t ready to contemplate that yet. It’s been a year since Matthias died.” Her gaze dipped to Jo’s dove-gray gown. “You’re still not wearing colors.”

That was because Jo despised most of her wardrobe. Matthias had required her to dress in simple, severe, and truthfully ugly clothing. Indeed, she hadn’t needed mourning clothes since most of her wardrobe was incredibly drab.

Deep creases dug through Nora’s brow. “You’re not still… Are you still devoted to Matthias?”

Jo hadn’t shared the depth of the troubles in her marriage with Nora. Before Nora had married Titus, she’d been living an isolated, lonely life in the country. Jo hadn’t wanted to burden her with her travails, not when Jo was at least married and her future was secure—unlike Nora’s. Then Nora had found happiness, and Jo had been too thrilled for her sister to cause any concern. Now… Now she could tell her the truth of things. But Nora would be horrified. And she’d feel sorry for Jo, who didn’t want her pity. Anyway, that part of her life was over. What good would it do to bring it up now?

“I am not still devoted. Or even sad. I suppose I should order some new gowns.”

Nora’s eyes lit. “Lady Satterfield will be ecstatic. She asked me the other day if you would be ready to go to Bond Street soon.”

Jo couldn’t help but laugh. Lady Satterfield’s penchant for shopping was well known. “Tell her yes, and I’d be honored if she’d accompany me.”

“She’ll insist, and really, you don’t want anyone else. Trust me.”

There was no one Jo trusted more. So why wouldn’t she tell her about Matthias? Because it was too humiliating.

Nora studied Jo for a moment. “If you aren’t sad over Matthias any longer, what is prohibiting you from seeking another husband? I should think you would have no trouble. You’re beautiful and intelligent, and there are plenty of gentlemen who prefer a mature woman.”

That sounded positively ancient. Jo arched a brow. “Mature?”

Nora laughed. “You know what I mean. I think it works in your favor.”

“I disagree. I think most men want a young, fresh-faced miss.” Jo looked toward the window, which overlooked the street below. “They especially want someone who can bear children, and you know that I cannot.”

The touch of Nora’s hand on hers drew Jo to turn her head back to her sister. “I’m so very sorry for that. But perhaps you can have children—with someone else.”

“What gentleman would want to risk that?” Jo asked. It was a moot question since Jo was certain she was barren. She’d been married eight years, and it wasn’t as if they hadn’t tried to conceive, especially in the early years. When she’d repeatedly failed to turn up pregnant, Matthias had grown increasingly angry with her and eventually more distant.

“A gentleman who perhaps already has children or who doesn’t want them at all,” Nora said.

Jo didn’t think she’d want a husband who didn’t want children. She thought of Lord Knighton and his devotion to Evie and his desire for more children. That was the kind of husband she wanted. Not him in particular, however, since he planned to enlarge his family. “I suppose a gentleman who already has children and isn’t concerned with having more would be acceptable.”

“Acceptable?” Nora frowned, but her gaze was sympathetic. “It’s all right if you don’t wish to marry again,” she said quietly.

It wasn’t that. “I simply don’t think it’s likely.”

Nora squeezed Jo’s hand as the butler came in and announced the arrival of Lord Knighton.

Nora stood. “Please show him up. I’ll just fetch Evie.” She left, and Jo rose to meet the earl.

A few moments later, he entered, and the sight of him gave her a start. He was an attractive man, though his hair could be judged too long. She liked the length, however. It seemed to fit him, especially since he preferred to lounge about in half-dress. That was why she’d been surprised at his appearance, she realized. In her mind’s eye, she saw him in shirtsleeves. Completely scandalous and wholly alluring.

She tossed the useless thoughts from her brain. “Good afternoon, my lord.” She offered him a curtsey.

He bowed in response. “Mrs. Shaw. I hope my appearance today meets with your satisfaction.”

She nearly laughed at the accurate direction of his thoughts. “You’re jesting, I hope?”

“Can’t you tell?” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’ve often been told my wit is far too dry.”

She liked wit—dry or not. It was far preferable to cruelty, which was what she’d been accustomed to the past several years. “I’m getting used to it. From now on, I shall err on the side of humor if I’m not certain of your intent.”

“A sound plan.”

She looked him over, again appreciating his form and trying to make sure she didn’t show it. “Your attire is more than adequate. You don’t actually leave your house in a state of undress, do you?”

He shook his head. “Not here. I wonder if I will be able to get away with that at my estate in Wales. I detest riding in constricting clothing. On Barbados, I wore only a shirt, and I must say the wind billowing through it is an intoxicating sensation.”

Jo tried to imagine the sensation, but couldn’t. She could, however, see and hear the joy it had given him, as well as picture him racing across a beach like the one Evie had described. Intoxicating indeed. “I’m sure you can do whatever you like on your estate.”

“I hope so. That will depend on my staff, I suppose. I’m beginning to learn that they talk. Gossip, I mean.”

“Yes, sometimes. Are you having difficulty?”

“My butler doesn’t seem to approve of my peccadilloes.” He gave her a knowing look since they’d discussed that very term. “Suffice it to say, he doesn’t seem to like me. And I must say the feeling is mutual.”

“Perhaps you should replace him,” Jo said.

“He worked for my father for twenty years.”

“You’ll provide him an excellent reference, then. There’s nothing saying you have to keep him on.” She blinked at him. “Is there?”

“No, there isn’t. And your advice is also what my valet says. I’m considering it. However, then I’ll have to hire a new one. Along with the governess. Any news on that?”

“Nora and I were just discussing that topic. She has some candidates she’d like to interview. I think there are others she can pass along to you.”

“Her rejects?”

Jo chuckled. “You’re joking again, but there’s a kernel of truth in there. I believe she only rejected them because the ones she chose are simply a better match for her requirements. As I told you last week, your requirements may be different. You can ask Nora about it when she returns.”

“I still want you to help me with the interviews.”

Jo was pleased. It gave her something to look forward to, and she had little of that. “And I shall still be delighted.”

Nora returned with the girls. Evie ran to hug her father and immediately told him of the dolls and the play they’d produced. “Jo said it was the best performance she’d ever seen,” Evie said proudly.

Knighton looked over at Jo, and she nodded. “It was. The girls are quite good with their voices and the drama they infuse into the action.”

“The best part is the costumes, Papa,” Evie said. “Jo made the most beautiful dress for the serving maid when she becomes the princess.”

“My favorite part is when the prince sees her for the first time,” Becky said, her eyes alight with joy.

Jo’s favorite part was watching them so happy.

Knighton smiled at the girls. “Well, I haven’t even seen the play, but I’d say my favorite part is watching the two of you talk about it.”

Jo snapped her gaze toward him as a tiny piece of her heart melted. Yes, she’d want a husband just like that.

What a foolish notion. She ought to focus on things she could control, such as this idea of becoming a governess. The idea of trying to lure a man with children into marriage seemed daunting. Furthermore, she wasn’t sure she wanted to marry anyone. Not after her experience with Matthias. She suppressed a shudder at being trapped again.

The earl looked toward Nora. “Duchess, Mrs. Shaw mentioned you might have some governess candidates you’d like to pass on to me.”

Nora crossed to the table with the stack of recommendations. “Yes.” She looked over at the girls. “Go help yourselves to some biscuits if you like.” She nodded toward where a tea tray had been laid out. The girls skipped to the sweets.

Jo and Knighton joined Nora at the table. “He thinks you’re giving him the rejects,” Jo said, tossing him a smile.

He blinked at her, and she caught a flash of alarm. It was quickly replaced with a glimmer of relief and then his lip ticked up in a half smile. At her. She’d seen him smile at Evie, but not at anyone else. There was something a bit rapturous about being on the receiving end. “He was joking,” Jo clarified in response to his subtle reaction.

Nora exhaled. “Oh good. They aren’t poor candidates. I simply chose the three who I most wanted to meet. They either have a particular skill I like, or they have a recommendation from someone I know.”

“I don’t know anyone,” Knighton said. “But Mrs. Shaw will help me in that regard.”

Nora smiled at Jo. “Yes, she will.” She picked up the letters she’d set aside and handed them to the earl. “These are for you, then.”

“Why not give them to Mrs. Shaw? She can narrow the field and send me a list of names for my secretary to contact.”

Nora looked at Jo in question, and Jo nodded. She held her hand out for the letters. “I’d be happy to.”

“Excellent.” As he set the sheaf in her hand, his fingers grazed hers, and she realized he wasn’t wearing gloves. She made a note to mention to him that he ought to do so when paying calls.

He turned toward his daughter and Becky. “Evie, it’s time to go.”

“Must I?” Evie asked, sounding quite dejected.

“Yes, you’ll see Becky soon.”

Evie walked reluctantly toward her father. “At our house next time, since we have Mrs. Poole now?”

“I’ll arrange it with the Duchess.”

“The day after tomorrow would be fine, if that suits you,” Nora said, joining Becky near the tea tray.

“Indeed.” He gave Evie an encouraging smile. “See? It’s already set.”

She hugged her father again. “Thank you, Papa.” She turned and waved at Becky. “See you Friday.” Pausing, Evie looked toward Jo. “Thank you again for watching our play.”

Jo went over and crouched down to look her in the eye. “It was my pleasure. I shall look forward to your next visit. Remember, I promised to read Shakespeare.”

Evie grinned. “Yes, you did!” She looked up at her father. “Isn’t she wonderful?”

Knighton’s lips curved into a slight smile. “Perhaps you should be her governess,” he murmured.

She was certain he was teasing this time.

As they left, Jo wondered what it would be like to be governess in a household such as his. She wouldn’t be a servant, but neither would she be a member of the family. It would be, she realized, somewhat like the way she’d felt married to Matthias. The two of them hadn’t been much of a family, especially after—

She stopped the direction of her thoughts lest they lead her into a wilderness she had no desire to get lost within.

* * *

“Ha-ha!” Evie crowed as she penned in Bran’s fox with her geese. “You’re shut up now!”

Bran stared at the board and realized he was utterly closed off. “A well-deserved victory.”

“Finally!” Evie leapt up and danced around the drawing room, chanting, “I shut up Papa! I shut up Papa!”

Smiling, Bran shook his head at her as he pushed himself to a sitting position. He’d been lying flat on his belly for some time, and his body had grown stiff.

Just as Evie neared the open doorway, Kerr stepped over the threshold. She collided with his legs and stepped on his foot.

“Ow!” Kerr jumped backward. Bran didn’t realize the fifty-something man could move that quickly.

Bran stood. “Are you all right there, Kerr?”

The butler lifted his foot from the floor and moved it about. “She stamped on it rather hard.”

For heaven’s sake, she was a child and barefoot. Bran bit his tongue.

Evie had stopped her dancing and now stood near Kerr. “I am terribly sorry, Kerr. It shouldn’t hurt. I’m not even wearing any shoes.” She wiggled her toes.

Kerr looked down his nose at her. “I can see that. Atrocious.”

Bran’s ire pricked. “Kerr, you won’t speak to my daughter that way.”

The butler’s eyes widened, and he inclined his head. “My apologies. However, shoes should be required.” He directed his attention to Bran’s feet, then promptly frowned upon seeing that Bran wasn’t wearing shoes either. He, at least, had stockings on. Kerr’s gaze lifted, and his frown deepened. “As well as a coat or at least a waistcoat.”

Bran’s patience was nearly spent. “I’ve explained before that when it’s just Evie and me, we shall wear whatever I deem acceptable. There is absolutely no reason for her to wear shoes—or stockings. And I’ll dress however I damn well please.”

Kerr straightened, his face flushing the color of the hibiscus flower that grew outside Bran’s window in Barbados. “Well, it isn’t just you and Lady Evangeline. Lady Dunn has arrived.”

Hell. He’d forgotten she was coming today. He’d been having too much fun with Evie.

“I’ll tell her you’ll need a few minutes,” Kerr said crisply.

“Nonsense,” came Lady Dunn’s voice from just outside the drawing room. A moment later, she appeared at the doorway, her cane clacking against the floor as she came abreast of Kerr, who was now looking at her with a tinge of horror. Bran had to assume that Lady Dunn had committed an offense by showing herself to the drawing room.

The viscountess peered haughtily at Kerr. “Why you’d leave me loitering in the hall is beyond me. I’m family, you nincompoop.”

Kerr’s nostrils flared, and his face went scarlet hibiscus again. He pursed his lips together before pushing out the tightest sentence Bran had ever heard. “I’ll bring tea.”

“Please do,” Lady Dunn said to his departing back. She turned to Bran and clucked her tongue. “You might have to let him go.”

“I’m considering it.”

His godmother turned to Evie with a bright smile. “If it isn’t my favorite little girl. I’ve brought you something.”

Evie became instantly shy the moment Lady Dunn had transferred attention to her. Bran could see it in the slight droop of Evie’s shoulders and the curl of her toes against the floor. He went to stand beside her and put a comforting hand on the back of her neck. She’d met Lady Dunn only once before, and it often took a few meetings for Evie to become comfortable. Except in the case of Becky. They’d become fast friends. In fact, Evie had warmed to everyone in the Kendal household rather quickly, including Mrs. Shaw. Now, why was he thinking of her specifically?

Lady Dunn interrupted his wayward thoughts. “Come, my girl, let me sit and I’ll show you.” Bran’s godmother walked to a settee and sat down, resting her cane against the side. She had a small paper bag in her hand and placed it on her lap.

Evie had followed and now perched beside her. Bran folded his arms to watch.

“Do you like sweet things?” Lady Dunn asked her. At Evie’s nod, she continued. “What about castles?”

“I don’t know that I’ve seen a real castle. Not up close.”

Lady Dunn turned her head to throw a dark stare at Bran. “You have taken her to see the Tower, at least?”

He hadn’t thought of it. “Er, not yet.” He’d ask Mrs. Poole for a list of things he should take Evie to see. Better still, he’d ask Mrs. Shaw.

“What’s the Tower?” Evie asked.

“It’s a very old castle here in London, rich with history, and there are many things to see there, including the Jewel Office.” Lady Dunn said the last with great flair.

Evie gasped. “Jewels?” She lifted her gaze to Bran’s. “Papa, may we go there?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to see what I brought you?” Lady Dunn asked.

Evie nodded enthusiastically. “Is it a jewel?”

Lady Dunn chuckled. “No.” She opened the bag and lifted out a small item, which she placed in Evie’s hand. “It’s a castle.”

Evie stared down at it, her lips curving to form a perfect O. “It’s a very small castle. It’s adorable.”

“It’s marzipan. You can eat it,” Lady Dunn said.

Evie’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh no, I shan’t ever do that. It’s far too precious!” She went back to studying the miniature building.

Mrs. Poole entered the drawing room, followed by Kerr, who carried the tea tray. He went about setting it up on the table in front of Lady Dunn.

“Lady Dunn, allow me to present Evie’s new nurse, Mrs. Poole.”

Mrs. Poole curtsied. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

“And a good afternoon to you, Mrs. Poole. What a delightful young charge you have here.” Lady Dunn inclined her head toward Evie.

Mrs. Poole beamed. “Yes, she’s a joy.”

Evie bounded off the settee to Mrs. Poole. “Look what Lady Dunn brought me! It’s a tiny castle!”

Mrs. Poole squatted down and studied the candy. “Is it marzipan?”

“Yes, but I shan’t eat it. I can’t wait to show it to Becky tomorrow.”

“An excellent plan,” Mrs. Poole said, straightening. “Come, it’s time for our afternoon reading time.”

Evie started to leave, but turned to face Lady Dunn. “Thank you ever so much. I shall treasure it always.” She pivoted and skipped from the room, Mrs. Poole on her heels. Kerr had left just before them, as quietly as he’d come in, much to Bran’s satisfaction.

Lady Dunn clucked her tongue again, her lips curving up. “Evie is lovely. What a marvelous relationship you have.” Her gaze settled on Bran. “Is your attire the reason for Kerr’s pique? I see you’re as defiant as ever.”

He suppressed a scowl. How he hated being called that. “I’m not. I’ll tell you what I told him—it’s my damn house, and I’ll dress as I please.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Thankfully, Hudson arrived just then with a waistcoat and other garments. He said nothing, merely came to Bran’s side and held the items over his arm. Bran donned the waistcoat.

“You needn’t do that on my account,” Lady Dunn said. “I’m not about to be terrorized by seeing you in shirtsleeves. As I said to Kerr, we’re family.”

Hudson arched a brow in question, silently asking if Bran wanted the cravat or the coat. Bran shook his head slightly and Hudson departed. Damn, it was good to have at least one exceptional retainer on staff.

When they were alone, Bran sat in a chair near the settee. “Can I pour you some tea?”

“Yes, please.” She watched him fill her cup. “Just a bit of sugar, thank you.”

He finished and handed her the cup and saucer.

“Thank you, dear boy.” She took a sip and lowered the cup back to the saucer. “I’d like to apologize for my comment earlier. I meant no insult when I called you defiant.”

That description, coined by his mother, had followed him throughout his childhood. He’d rarely done what was expected or asked of him, largely because he simply couldn’t. Aside from his clothing intolerance, there’d been his refusal to eat certain foods. Or sit still. Or stay in bed all night.

When his nurse failed to make him comply, his mother would lose her temper and thrash him until he’d succumbed. And in some cases, he hadn’t. She’d banished him to a small closet on plenty of occasions, which had been fine by him. At least there he could wear whatever he liked. Or not wear, as was his preference.

Gradually, he’d learned to hide his…defiance. It had never completely gone, however.

“No apology is necessary,” he said. “I’m afraid I was a bit worked up due to my encounter with Kerr.”

She sipped her tea again. “I’ll say it again—I hope you’ll consider replacing him.”

Perhaps after he hired a governess. It seemed he was to be perpetually seeking retainers. “When I can find the time.”

“I imagine you must be horribly busy. And a father into the bargain. I hate to ask, but when do you plan to make your social debut as earl? Society is abuzz wondering about you. I heard you were at Brooks’s the other night.”

The notion that his activities were gossip fodder was unsettling. “How did you know?”

She smiled conspiratorially, her brown eyes glowing. “My former companion, an absolute dear, is the Duchess of Clare. She told me her husband met you in Kendal’s private dining room and that Kendal had invited you.”

He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. “Then I am surprised you didn’t also know that I plan to make my debut at the Harcourt ball tomorrow night.”

“No, I hadn’t heard that, but what a brilliant plan. Would you like me to go with you?”

He appreciated her kindness, but he wanted the freedom to leave whenever he chose. He suspected he wouldn’t last very long and would hate to abbreviate her evening. “Thank you, but I’ll probably arrive later than you would prefer.”

“Yes, many gentlemen do. How do you find London?” She sipped from her cup, then set it and the saucer on the table.

“Large. And cold.”

“That must be a shock. How is Evie adjusting?”

“She also finds it cold.”

She gave him a patient stare. “I meant, how are you both getting on? Are you happy to be here or do you detest it? I didn’t think you’d ever come back.”

“I’m not sure I intended to.”

Lady Dunn turned to face him fully and clasped her hands in her lap. “I am your godmother, and to me, that makes us family. I know you didn’t get on well with your actual family, and I suspect that’s why you never meant to return. However, fate has decided to call you back to Mother England. This must be a very strange predicament for you.” She cocked her head to the side. “Were you even sad to hear of their passing?” She waved her hand. “Never mind, what a ghastly question. Of course you were sad.” She gave him a look that carried more understanding than anything he’d ever felt from anyone in his family.

To think that she could be family…

He gently coughed. “You seem to grasp the situation quite well.”

“Perhaps. I wish I knew more, but I’m afraid I wasn’t able to have much of a role in your life. Your mother didn’t care for me, as you may know.”

“I did know, although I never understood why.”

She surprised him by laughing, a hearty chuckle that filled the room. “Oh, that’s a story. She was certain I’d had a liaison with your father. Utter gibberish, of course. Nevertheless, she was adamant. I’m sorry to say she was quite skilled at preventing me from seeing you. I tried, but your father didn’t wish to upset her.”

Bran had no trouble imagining his mother railing at his father about Lady Dunn. And now he had another reason to dislike her—as if he needed one—she’d deprived him of a kind influence at a young age. “She’s arriving from Durham next week.” Just saying it aloud made him want to scratch the flesh from his bones.

Lady Dunn’s face pinched. “I’m sorry to hear that. She isn’t staying with you, is she?”

“No, I didn’t invite her. The only reason I’m allowing her to visit is to meet Evie.”

“That’s for the best, I think.” She eyed him with approval. “You’re a good son. Just remember that you’re the earl now. If you don’t wish to tolerate her presence, you don’t have to.”

She was right. Bran hadn’t thought about facing her now that he was the earl. Things were completely different. He was completely different. But then that really had nothing to do with becoming earl and everything to do with getting away from his toxic upbringing.

“I appreciate the advice, thank you. And the castle you brought Evie. That was incredibly thoughtful.”

“I look forward to showering all manner of things on her—all the things I couldn’t do for you.” Her gaze turned sad, and the lines around her mouth and eyes deepened. “I hope you’ll allow me to dote on her. And you. I think you both deserve it.”

Emotion scratched his throat. He poured himself a cup of tea, which he didn’t particularly care for, and took a sip to wet his mouth.

“That means you’ll have to suffer my interference, or at least interest, in your lives. Tell me, do you plan to marry again? If so, I should be delighted to help you find a bride.”

He did appreciate her thoughtfulness, but perhaps not the interference part. “I’d like to find a mother for Evie, but I’m not in a particular rush.”

“Of course not. You mustn’t hurry such things. The Harcourt ball will give you a nice introduction. Unless you want to set the tongues wagging, stay clear of dancing with any young misses. I’ll be sure to steer you in the right direction.”

That he appreciated most sincerely. “Thank you. I think I’ve found a formidable ally.”

Along with Kendal, his wife, and her lovely sister, the bright and witty Mrs. Shaw. He wondered if she would be at the ball. He hoped so. She wasn’t a young miss and therefore a safe dancing partner. Yes, he’d look for her as soon as he arrived.

“Now, let us discuss your wardrobe.” Her gaze dipped to his practically bare arms. “I want to be sure you’ll be attired correctly for the ball. You’re not in the tropics any longer.”

No, he wasn’t.