Persephone looked between them, clearly amused. “So, in summary: he’s annoying, irritating, infuriating, and happy, which is also annoying.”
She seemed to think that they would back down from this assessment now that she had heard it laid out. Instead, Hugh and Ezra exchanged a look and then nodded.
“Yes, that’s pretty much it,” Hugh said.
He and Ezra exchanged a grin as Persephone rolled her eyes at the two of them.
“Idiots,” she grumbled.
They only grinned wider. Ezra felt a sense of kinship. It was comforting.
“I recognize that the fact that Xander is annoying is not a good enough reason to avoid asking for his help,” he admitted with a sigh. “Besides, Helen liked Letty?—”
Letty, Persephone mouthed gleefully to her husband.
Fuck, Ezra thought.
“Helen likedMiss Knightley,” he amended, although he knew the damage was already done, “so I am sure she will want to help.”
“Knowing Helen, she will want to murder this Dugley person herself,” Hugh murmured.
“It’s a risk I am willing to take,” Ezra said dryly.
“Mama, Mama!” Nicholas bounced over, so festooned with ribbons by this point that it was hard to believe that there were any remaining in England. “Look at me!”
“You look marvelous, darling,” Persephone praised, which caused Corinna and Iris to proudly display how they had been dressed by their older cousins, who had clearly arrived well-stocked.
When Ezra saw how Iris visibly blossomed when Persephone offered the same praise to her tasting assistant that the duchess usually gave to her own children, he decided on two things.
One, he would encourage Hugh and Persephone to remain in his life, if only for Iris’ sake. He would even try to one day admit that itwasn’tjust for Iris’ sake, that he might even like them himself.
Two, he would trust them with some very important information.
When the children had drifted away to some new, highly inscrutable game, he looked back at Hugh and Persephone, bending to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Iris told me something about her mother recently,” he confided. “Her name. Artemis Johns. Have you ever heard of her?”
Persephone shook her head at once, but Hugh frowned thoughtfully.
“You do know the name,” Ezra said.
Hugh shook his head, but it wasn’t a refusal. It was more like he was trying to shake the memory loose.
“I have heard that name,” he muttered, closing his eyes like that might help him remember more clearly. “It was… a long time ago. It was…”
His eyes popped open, a triumphant look on his face.
“It was Uncle Ambrose, talking with my father,” he said. “Ambrose said something like, ‘The girl’s name is Artemis. Artemis Johns,’ and my father snorted and said, ‘It’s practically like Cornelius named her himself.’” He paused, eyes distant as he recollected. “Grandfather was already dead, so that stuck with me.”
Ezra had not really believed that he was likely to get any information, but he eagerly grabbed what he could from Hugh’s long-ago memory.
“Did they sound angry?” he asked.
Hugh paused to think, then shook his head.
“No,” he said. “Father sounded like this was new information. He was surprised. Incredulous. And Ambrose seemed annoyed. But if this Artemis Johns comes from the family—and I think we can now all agree that she does—I don’t think it was Ambrose that fathered her. My father wouldn’t have made the quip about the name if Ambrose had just admitted to a by-blow.”
“Ambrose wasn’t my first guess, anyway,” Ezra admitted.
