Web of Love

Chapter 14

LORD EDEN DID NOT AFTER ALL CALL AT Bedford Square the following day. He sent a note excusing himself after his mother received a hastily scrawled letter from Dover to say that Madeline expected to be home sometime that day.

She arrived late in the afternoon in a carriage belonging to Mr. Septimus Foster, the cousin with whom Lieutenant Penworth was to stay in London. She was looking tired but incredibly happy.

“Mama!” she cried, hurling herself into her mother’s arms. “It seems like forever. Oh, how good it is to be home. And Edmund and Alexandra have come too. But not the children?” She hugged both of them hard and turned to her twin. “Dom. Oh, you horrid man. You look quite as healthy as you have ever looked. And when I think of the fright you gave me in Brussels!”

She was in his arms then, and he was rocking her against him. “You are looking pretty good yourself,” he said. “I have been expecting to see you a mere wraith of your former self after months of playing nurse. But you look as if you are in the middle of a very successful Season.”

“Allan and I are betrothed,” she said. “It was all decided before we left for home. The official announcements are to be made as soon as he has spoken with you and Edmund, Mama. He does not have to do so, of course, because I reached my majority long ages ago, but he is going to do so anyway. Wish me happy?” She smiled brightly and a little uncertainly around the room.

Lord Amberley got to his feet again and put an arm about her shoulders. “You look quite happy enough already, dear,” he said. “And of course I have never wanted anything else but your happiness. If you have decided upon Penworth, then he is a fortunate man.”

“I could not have said it better myself,” the dowager said, beaming at her daughter.

“Where is he?” Lady Amberley asked. “When are we to meet him? If I had only known back in the spring that he was to be your husband, Madeline, I would have taken far more notice. I can picture only a very young man in scarlet regimentals.”

Madeline glanced at her twin, and he smiled and stretched out a hand to her.

“The journey was a great ordeal for him,” she said. “I don’t think I stopped talking for a single moment all the way from Dover. I was trying to keep his mind from his own discomfort and pain. We went straight to Mr. Foster’s, and then I came here. It feels strange to be without him after so many months.” She looked again at her brother, rather uncertainly, and took his hand.

“If you are happy, Mad,” he said, “then I am too. Are you satisfied now?”

She nodded.

“Well,” the Earl of Amberley said, seating himself next to his wife, “we might as well enjoy this unusual interlude of brother-and-sister amity, Alex. I am sure the two of them will be at each other’s throats before another day has passed, and we will know that all is back to normal.”

The dowager rang the bell to summon the tea tray.

“Now,” Madeline said brightly, “I want everyone to tell me everything that has happened since I saw you last. Everything. Have the children grown, Alexandra? And will Caroline smile yet for anyone but Edmund?”

“She was very uncertain when he came home from Brussels after such a long absence,” the countess said with a smile. “But seeing Christopher launch himself onto Edmund’s back and me clinging to one of his arms must have reassured her. She gave him the smile I had not seen for weeks. It really is not fair, is it? Who feeds the child, after all?”

“It is just that she recognizes a handsome man when she sees one,” the earl said.

Although there was so much to say, so many questions to be asked and answered, they all recognized that Madeline was very tired. Half an hour later she was climbing the stairs to her rooms, her arm linked through her twin’s.

“How are you, Dom?” she asked as she closed the door of her sitting room behind them.

“As you see.” He spread his arms to the sides. “As good as new, Mad. And in civilian clothes, you will be delighted to observe.”

“I am.” She crossed the room and patted the lapels of his coat. “And it is just as well for you that you are. I would declare open warfare on you if you had not sold out already.”

“Ooh,” he said, grinning. “A narrow escape indeed.”

“What I meant to ask,” she said, “was how are you? I mean really, Dom.”

“You are asking me about Ellen Simpson,” he said. “I was planning to call on her this afternoon. For the first time, and because I promised Charlie that I would look after the two of them if there were need. I have not seen her since Brussels, Mad. It is all over. It was just an unreal episode from a time of great crisis. Sweet at the time, but best forgotten.” He smiled.

“Was it?” she said sadly. “But it seemed so real at the time. You looked so very happy. What happened, Dom?”

“We both woke up,” he said. “That is what happened. It was inevitable.” He shrugged. “It was no big thing. It only seemed so at the time. There is one thing I must know about you. Did Penworth ask you to marry him, or did you ask him?”

She blushed and giggled. “You could not expect him to ask me,” she said. “He still does not particularly want to live, except that now I think he has realized that he must do so whether he wants to or not. He certainly does not think he has any worth left as a man. He is unwilling for anyone to see him. And he won’t go home to Devon. He cannot face the pity of his family, he says. All absurd, of course. I shall talk him out of it all eventually. It will take time.”

“So you asked him,” he said. “Do you love him, Mad? Or is it pity?”

“I love him,” she said. “He has filled my whole world for three months, Dom. I can’t imagine life without him now. You are not going to be difficult, are you, just because he has lost a leg and an eye?”

“No, I am not going to be difficult.” He took her by the shoulders and shook her gently back and forth. “You are as old and as wise as I, which is not saying a great deal, I suppose. But if you say you can be happy with Penworth, then I daresay you can be. And all I can do is repeat what I said downstairs. If you are happy, then so am I.”

She hugged him hard and rested her head on his broad shoulder. “Oh, Dom,” she said, “it is so very good to be home. So good to have you alive and safe at last. And I am so tired. I feel as if I have not slept for months.”

“Don’t fall asleep on my shoulder, then,” he said. “I’m sure your bed will be far more comfortable. Stand up now, or sit down if you will, and I will ring for a maid.”

Madeline yawned loudly and inelegantly and sat down hard on a chaise longue.

ELLEN WAS SITTING DOWNSTAIRS in the morning room finishing off a letter to her friend Mrs. Cleary, who was still in Paris. She had the house to herself apart from the servants. Dorothy and Jennifer had gone out soon after breakfast, in order to accompany the Emery ladies to the library and the shops.

She and her stepdaughter were both recovering their spirits, she had just written to her friend. Her husband had left her an independence, and she hoped soon to buy herself a cottage somewhere in the country and move there. She was not sure about Jennifer. The girl might stay with her aunt. Or perhaps she would move to her grandfather’s house.

Nothing was as certain as that in reality, of course. Dorothy had said no more about the visit to Sir Jasper Simpson. Perhaps she never would. Perhaps Charlie’s father would refuse to receive Jennifer, even if that meant that he could not meet his son’s widow either.

But Ellen was determined that matters would not be left at that. She had made a promise to Charlie, and she was going to keep it. His father would not reject them if appealed to, Charlie had said. Well, if necessary, she would go to Sir Jasper herself-not to take tea, but to plead with him to accept his granddaughter. If he had really loved his son, as Dorothy claimed, and if he truly grieved for him now, then surely he could not refuse to meet the daughter whom Charlie had loved, even if there really could be any doubt about her birth.

She would allow one more week to pass. If Dorothy had not said anything more in that time, then Ellen would take action herself. She felt better having decided so. She felt as if she were coming back to life after a long time. She reached for the blotter and carefully dried the ink on her letter.

She had taken action on something else too. She had told Dorothy the day before about the child. She had been feeling unusual tiredness during the days, and frequently felt nauseated and dizzy in the mornings. She needed to tell someone. She had told no lies. She had said nothing about the baby’s paternity and had said merely that it was expected sometime early in the following spring. She had not told the truth either, of course.

Dorothy had been overjoyed, and had hugged her and kissed her and laughed and shed tears.

“Oh, I am so very happy,” she had said. “I have hoped for it ever since Charlie married you, Ellen. And now it has happened just when it seemed too late. I am so very happy for you. But have you seen a physician?”

Ellen had shaken her head and agreed that she would see Dorothy’s doctor later in the week, as soon as it could be arranged.

She felt uneasy about the deception. But what could she have done? How could she have told Charlie’s sister the truth? On the whole, it felt good to have her secret off her chest. Though it was not entirely so.

“Please don’t tell Jennifer yet,” she had said.

“But why ever not?” Lady Habersham had asked. “She will be thrilled to know that she is to have a sister or brother.”

“I will find the right moment to tell her,” Ellen had said.

Jennifer’s brother or sister! She had felt very uneasy and guilty again. But if only she could bring about this reconciliation with Sir Jasper, then she could remove to the country, and she would be free to tell everyone the truth. The time would come soon, she hoped, long before her child was born.

Yesterday had brought one other relief from a burden, although Jennifer had been disappointed. An unexpected commitment had forced Lord Eden to cancel his plan to call on them during the afternoon. There had been no other explanation. It must be that he had realized that she was at home when he had called before, that she had refused to see him. It must be that he had changed his mind about forcing his company on her.

There was enormous relief in the knowledge. She really did not want to see him. And there had been a certain pain in the prospect of his seeing Jennifer again. It had seemed for a while in Brussels that the two of them might be developing a tendre for each other. And at one time she had hoped it was true.

She would not think of such things. Jennifer was not unhappy. She had her friends, and she was very young. There would be time enough for beaux and marriage after her year of mourning was past.

Ellen sealed her letter and got to her feet. She stayed standing despite the wave of nausea that had her bending her head forward and closing her eyes for a moment. She would hand the letter to a footman and it would go with the day’s mail. Strange to think that she would be in Paris herself if Charlie had still been alive. No, she would not think of it. She hurried out into the hallway.

And collided head-on with a man standing just outside the morning-room door.

“Oh,” she said, looking up sharply as he caught at her arms to steady her.

“Ellen,” he said.

She looked up into his face through a long, dark tunnel. There was a buzzing in her ears. She clasped her letter to her bosom.

“Ellen,” he said again. “How are you?”

“Well,” she said, but no sound came from her mouth. “Well,” she repeated.

He was still clasping her arms. He let her go suddenly, and they stared at each other foolishly, both seemingly incapable either of moving or of mouthing some commonplace.

“I have just sent the butler upstairs with my card,” he said eventually.

“I was writing a letter,” she said, holding it out almost as if she were offering it to him.

Her voice sounded very far away. She listened to it as if it were someone else forming the words. And the buzzing in her ears became a roar even as she felt her face grow cold and her vision recede.

“Ellen!” someone was saying very, very far away. “Sit on the stairs for a minute.” And someone was holding her sagging body in very strong arms and lowering her to a sitting position on the stairs. And someone’s warm hand was at the back of her neck, forcing her head downward. And someone was stooping down in front of her. She was breathing in the fragrance of a familiar cologne.

“She has fainted. She will come around in a moment.” The quiet voice was close to her ear.

“May I fetch something, my lord?” The voice of the butler.

“A glass of water, perhaps.” Strong, warm hands took one of hers between them and began to chafe it. “Keep your head down, Ellen,” he said. “Take slow, deep breaths.”

Dominic’s voice. It was Dominic. And she had fainted! She was sitting on the second stair in the hallway, the butler hurrying up with a glass of water, and Dominic down on one knee in front of her, taking the glass in his hand, covering her own cold and shaking hand over it, and helping her to lift it to her mouth.

She had fainted. She did not think she would ever be able to raise her head.

“How foolish of me,” she said. “I am quite all right now.”

But a firm hand on each of her shoulders held her down when she would have got to her feet.

“Just sit there for a moment,” he said.

And then the front doors were being opened and Dorothy and Jennifer were there, and her humiliation was complete.

“My lord?” Jennifer said. “And Ellen? Whatever is the matter?”

“She has fainted,” Lord Eden said. “But I believe she has almost recovered now.”

“Ellen!” Dorothy said, hurrying over to her. “One of those dizzy spells again, dear?”

Don’t say anything!

“I am fine,” Ellen said, trying again to rise, and feeling those strong hands close again about her shoulders, holding her down. “I cannot think what came over me. Please forgive me. I shall go up to my room.”

“I shall carry you there,” Lord Eden said.

“Yes, you must lie down,” Lady Habersham said. “You really should be resting more, dear.”

Don’t say any more. Please don’t say any more!

“Thank you,” Ellen said, “but I have quite recovered now, my lord. I do not need your assistance.”

“I shall come with you, Ellen,” Lady Habersham said. “You must lie down until luncheon time. And I shall send for my physician. It is high time you consulted him.”

Please, oh, please, don’t say any more!

Ellen collapsed facedown on her bed a few minutes later and stayed there as her sister-in-law removed her slippers and tiptoed from the room.

If she tried very hard from now until doomsday, she could not possibly think of a greater humiliation than what had just happened. He had appeared again, and she had swooned-literally swooned-at his feet. Whatever would he think? He was bound to draw all the wrong conclusions.

She had been feeling dizzy before she left the morning room. She had not been expecting him. She had not had time to prepare herself for that first face-to-face encounter. If only she had known, she would have received him with admirable coolness. He had taken her by surprise.

And she had swooned!

How would she ever be able to face him again? As if it had not been hard enough to do so anyway. But would she have to face him again? Would he not now realize that she just did not want to see him?

Or would he feel obliged to come back to inquire after her health?

Lord Eden, downstairs with Lady Habersham and Jennifer, was expressing concern about Ellen’s health.

“She has been feeling indisposed for some time,” Lady Habersham said. “It is doubtless no more than the stress caused by my brother’s death. I will make sure that she sees a physician and rests more.”

“I did not know that Ellen had been feeling unwell,” Jennifer said in some distress. “She has not said anything to me, Aunt Dorothy. I have been selfish, as usual, have I not? I have been thinking about only my feelings.”

“You are absolutely not to blame, my dear,” her aunt said briskly.

Lord Eden got to his feet. “I was hoping that you and Mrs. Simpson would be free to walk with me this afternoon,” he said to Jennifer. “But I will, if I may, call tomorrow to see how your stepmother does.”

He made his bows and took his leave.

Had he done that to her? he wondered as he rode away. Had she really been unwell, as Lady Habersham had said? Or had it been a sickness that only the sight of him had brought on?

Should he call the next day? Would it be kinder and more honorable to stay away? But he would have to go. He would have to assure himself that she was feeling better.

He had dreaded making the call. He had dreaded that first moment of looking at her again with all the necessity of appearing cool without seeming careless, of appearing friendly without seeming heartless. He had dreaded having to form those first words to say to her.

But he had thought it was possible. He had rehearsed the meeting many times, expecting that it would be in the presence of other people. He had not expected to stare dumbly at her, his mind paralyzed so that no words had come at all, except her name.

He had behaved like a schoolboy with his first infatuation. It was quite ridiculous, especially when he had had more than two months in which to recover from their liaison. Especially when he had convinced himself that she did not mean any more to him than any of the other several women who had been his mistresses for varying lengths of time.

He would have to do much better the next day.

LADY HABERSHAM SUGGESTED a short walk in the park in the afternoon. If Ellen was feeling well enough, that was.

“Of course I am feeling all right,” Ellen assured her. “I had been bent over the desk writing for an hour this morning and jumped to my feet too quickly. That was all. It was very foolish of me to faint in the hallway.”

“And there was the shock of finding that young man there,” her sister-in-law said with a nod. “He was a very close friend of Charlie’s, was he not, Ellen? It must be hard for you to know that he survived when Charlie did not. But he is a very amiable young man, and very handsome too. You were quite right about that, Jennifer.”

The girl blushed.

Five minutes after they had entered the park, a curricle drew to a halt beside them, and Jennifer recognized Anna and Walter Carrington.

“Do join us in a turn about the park, Miss Simpson,” Anna said after introductions had been made. “The seat is narrow and we will be horribly squashed. But you will be doing me a great favor. Walter declares that I have not a word of sense to say, which is very nasty and ungentlemanly of him, and no other gentleman of my acquaintance has ever said such a thing. But Walter is my brother and thinks it quite unexceptionable to be as rude as can be to a mere sister.”

She laughed gaily while her brother looked indignant and jumped down to the ground to lift Jennifer up.

“You would be doing me a kindness too, Miss Simpson,” he said, “by rescuing me from a shrew. With your permission, ma’am?” He did not seem to know whether he should look to Ellen or Lady Habersham for permission, so smiled at both.

“How pleasant for her,” Lady Habersham said a minute later as the curricle moved away along one of the carriage paths. “I am glad to see her make some friends, Ellen. And they seem like very pleasant people indeed.”

“Yes,” Ellen said. “But I am not surprised, you know. Jennifer was very popular in Brussels.”

Lady Habersham linked her arm through her sister-in-law’s. “I am glad we have a few minutes together,” she said. “I have talked with Papa. He wants you and Jennifer to take tea with him two days from now. Phillip and Edith will be there too. You will come, Ellen?”

Ellen smiled brightly. “Jennifer too?” she said. “He has changed his mind about her? Oh, yes, Dorothy, of course we will go. I am so very glad. And thank you for speaking up for Jennifer.”

“Well,” Lady Habersham said, squeezing Ellen’s arm, “I think Papa would have accepted any conditions at all as soon as he heard the news.”

“The news?” Ellen felt herself turn cold.

“About his expected grandchild,” her sister-in-law said. “I don’t recall ever seeing Papa quite so excited about anything, Ellen.”

“You told him,” Ellen said, closing her eyes briefly. “Dorothy, I asked you not to tell anyone else yet.”

“No, dear.” Lady Habersham stopped walking. Her voice was full of concern. “No. You asked me not to tell Jennifer. I did not realize that perhaps you would wish to be the first to break the news to Papa too. But of course. It was thoughtless of me, wasn’t it? Of course you would want to tell him yourself. And now I have spoiled it for you. Oh, I am so sorry, Ellen.”

“No.” Ellen put one hand over her face and shook her head. “No, it is not that, Dorothy. I am sorry. I’m not angry with you. I am just being silly about this whole thing, I suppose. I want to keep it a secret, when it will be quite obvious to anyone who cares to look within the next month or two.”

“It is just that you are so very alone,” her sister-in-law said. “If Charlie were only with you, Ellen! Oh, I can imagine just how proud and happy he would be. But we are your family too, dear-Papa and Phillip and I. And Jennifer, of course. We will help you to feel the happiness of the event, even though, of course, there is bound to be a great deal of sadness for you too.”

“You are so kind to me,” Ellen said, looking up at Lady Habersham. “I really don’t deserve…Oh, dear.”

“Well,” her sister-in-law said, “in two days’ time you will meet Papa and Phillip. And all will work out well, you will see. Papa is not a monster, you know. Not at all. And he is going to love you. And Jennifer too.”

“Has he agreed to receive her only because he wants to meet me?” Ellen asked.

Lady Habersham squeezed her arm again. “Never mind about motives,” she said. “It is the results of the meeting that will be important, Ellen. He will not be able to help loving her once he sees her.”

“So he will meet the grandchild of questionable legitimacy in order to be sure of meeting the one of whose birth there can be no doubt,” Ellen said quietly.

Lady Habersham patted her arm. “Ah, here they come again,” she said. “And all laughing merrily, as young people should. Is not Anna Carrington a very pretty young lady, Ellen? Her hair is as dark as Jennifer’s, but cut very short, if I am not mistaken. And Mr. Carrington is a very presentable young man too.”

MADELINE RODE BESIDE her brother during the carriage ride to Bedford Square.

“I really appreciate this, Mad,” he said. “I owe you a favor.”

She grinned at him. “I shall not forget,” she said. “But this is no burden on me, Dom. Allan was tired this morning when I went to read to him, and decided that he will rest this afternoon. And I wish to see both Mrs. and Miss Simpson again. I liked them both in Brussels.”

“When is Penworth going to admit any visitors but you?” he asked. “And when is he going to venture outside?”

“It will take time,” she said. “He will do both eventually, Dom. Have patience with us. Please?”

“I want to talk to him,” he said. “If he is to be my brother-in-law, I want to get to know him. And he should meet Mama and Edmund.”

“He will,” she said hastily, laying a hand on his sleeve. “He will, Dom. Do try to put yourself in his place. How would you feel?”

He looked at her silently for a few moments and then turned to look out the window at the passing streets. “Probably much the same,” he said. “Except that I don’t think I would have betrothed myself to anyone.”

“Only because there are not as many women who are as impudent as I,” she said. “It quite puts me to the blush to know that I proposed to my future husband. But if I had not, he would never have married me. So I am not sorry. Will Mrs. Simpson receive you, do you think?”

“I don’t know.” He grimaced. “And I don’t at all know if I am doing the right thing, coming here again like this. But I have to make sure that she has recovered.”

“And you really feel nothing for her, Dom, beyond the concern you would naturally feel for your friend’s widow?” she asked.

“No, nothing,” he said. “I have known her for several years, remember. That foolishness lasted only a few days. I just need to make this one visit. Then it will all be over.”

“Oh, liar, Dom,” she said, settling her shoulders against the corner of the seat and looking steadily at him. “I am Madeline, remember? Your twin.”

He glared back. “I brought you with me for moral support,” he said, “not as father confessor. And on this one you are wrong anyway.”

She shrugged and said nothing. But she made him feel uncomfortable all the rest of the way by sitting sideways and staring at him.

She still said nothing as they waited for Lady Habersham’s butler to take Lord Eden’s card upstairs. But it most certainly helped to have her with him when they were shown into an upstairs salon. He could collect his breath and his thoughts while presenting his sister to Lady Habersham and while waiting for the effusive greetings Madeline exchanged with the other two ladies.

He bowed over Jennifer’s hand and acknowledged Ellen’s curtsy with a nod.

She sat down with a straight back, not touching the back of her chair. She folded her hands quietly in her lap. Lord Eden took his courage in both hands and crossed the room to take a seat beside her. Madeline began to talk with animation to the room at large.

Her face was thinner and had lost color. Her gray eyes, by contrast, looked larger and more luminous as she rested them steadily on Madeline’s face. Her fair hair, smooth and shining, was drawn back from her face in the old simple style, resting in a knot at the back of her neck.

Unbidden memories came to him of her face flushed and animated at a ball and heavy-eyed with passion on a pillow, that hair framing her face like a shining halo.

“I trust you are feeling better, ma’am?” he said. Words of ridiculous formality. He had murmured love words into her ear, against her mouth.

“Yes, I thank you, my lord.” She lowered her eyes away from Madeline and looked to the side. But not at him. “I was very foolish. I had been bent over a letter for more than an hour.”

She had cried out her love to him, murmured his name over and over again.

“I hope you have recovered thoroughly,” she said. “You are looking well.”

How did she know? She had not looked at him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I have made every effort to regain my health.”

The hands in her lap looked relaxed until one observed closely and saw the whiteness of her knuckles. She had sat beside him many times with one of those hands in his, smiling at him while he kissed each finger separately.

“I felt that I must call on you and Miss Simpson,” he said, “to see that you have settled comfortably in this country.”

He had dreamed once of settling her on his own estate in Wiltshire. He had told her about it once when she lay in his arms, her hand smoothing gently over the bandages on his chest. He had told her how it had been his since the death of his father but how he had never really thought of it as home. But he had dreamed of doing so then with a wife of his own to take there. Though he had not said that to her.

“That is very kind of you, my lord,” she said. “We have settled well. My sister-in-law has been very good to us, and tomorrow we are to take tea with Sir Jasper Simpson.”

“With Charlie’s father?” he asked in some surprise.

The name brought spots of color to her cheeks and increased his own discomfort. The name of her husband, his friend.

“Yes,” she said, “we are to meet him tomorrow.”

He had dreamed of presenting her to his own family. As his future wife. He had dreamed of how his mother would love her, of how Edmund would approve his choice, of how Alexandra and Madeline would become her close friends.

He had dreamed a whole lot of dreams that he had never experienced with his other mistresses. But then, she had not been his mistress. It was an unsatisfactory word applied to her, suggesting a kept woman.

Ellen had been his lover. For a brief time. In the past.

“Miss Simpson will come with us, Dom,” Madeline’s bright voice said, reminding Lord Eden that he was in a room with other people as well as her. “And will you, ma’am?” She smiled at Lady Habersham. “And you, Mrs. Simpson? But you were talking with Dom then and did not hear. We are going to drive to Kensington Gardens and walk there awhile.”

“I am afraid I have another engagement later this afternoon,” Lady Habersham said.

“Then Mrs. Simpson must come,” Madeline said. She smiled engagingly. “You really must. I have just come home and I have recently become betrothed to Lieutenant Penworth and I simply must have someone to boast to.”

“You are betrothed to Lieutenant Penworth?” Jennifer said with a smile. “How splendid! He must be considerably better, then? I cried when Ellen told me about his injuries. I could not help remembering how he loved to talk about riding and sailing and playing sports at home in Devon.”

“You will come?” Lord Eden asked Ellen.

He watched her draw in a slow breath. She looked across at Madeline, her expression quite calm.

“Thank you,” she said, “that would be pleasant. I shall come as chaperone for Jennifer again.”

Madeline laughed. “You must come as our friend,” she said. “I would be quite chaperone enough for Miss Simpson, you see. Shall we leave? And then we will not keep you from your other appointment, ma’am.” She smiled at Lady Habersham.

Lord Eden got up as Ellen rose to her feet and left the room for a bonnet and shawl. Jennifer smiled brightly at him and followed her stepmother.

Lord Eden’s eyes met his sister’s smiling ones across the room.