AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m not speaking to you, girl,” said the dowager, without turning her head. “I detect almost no accent in your voice.”
“We had an English tutor, Your Grace,” said Michel. “And now we have Miss Perkins. She makes us memorize poetry.”
She dismissed Michel with a flick of her wrist and turned to Edgar. “They appear intelligent and well-spoken enough. It’s a pity about their birth, though.”
“You mean it’s a pity we’re bastards,” Adele said.
The dowager raised her quizzing glass and examined Adele. “Quite.”
Mari placed a warning hand on Adele’s shoulder. “We mustn’t discuss such things in polite company, Adele.”
“But you said bastards are filled with potential, promise, and possibilities,” said Adele.
A hush descended on the room.
Glasses paused halfway to mouths.
“And so they are,” said Mari.
Edgar sensed the change in Mari. The shift from propriety to protectiveness. She would do anything for his children. Defend them, no matter what. From constables or from dowagers.
And so would he.
“Her Grace didn’t mean to say you should be pitied,” Edgar said, bending close to Adele.
“That’s right,” said Mari. “It’s just that sometimes, through no fault of their own, a person can’t see past their own quizzing glass.”
“Well,” exclaimed the dowager, dropping her quizzing glass. “Who are your people, Miss Perkins?”
“No one of your exalted acquaintance, Your Grace.”
India smiled warmly at Mari. “She’s from Mrs. Trilby’s Agency for Superior Governesses. She’s such a treasure.”
“Superior governesses. Rather an oxymoron, in my experience,” sniffed the dowager.
“Quite,” agreed Mari, in a haughty tone of voice. “Such a hysterical, degenerate breed.”
The dowager gave her a hard stare. “Are you mocking me?”
“I was merely agreeing with you, Your Grace.”
Edgar almost applauded. Mari had put his mother in her place so skillfully that it wasn’t even discernible as an insult.
She had a way of doing that. Putting people in their places.
Cutting people down to size.
“It’s not right to raise a child beyond their station, Banksford,” his mother said, ignoring everyone except Edgar. “You shouldn’t parade them about. It’s past their bedtime.”
“Perhaps it’s past your bedtime, Mother.” He knew his voice was cold, but he was only matching her tone.
“Well,” she huffed. “I knew it was a mistake to come here.” She tapped her walking stick on the floor, and a footman scurried toward them.
She stumbled slightly. Edgar reached out a hand. “Let me help you.”
“Do. Not. Touch me.”
“Are you well, Mother?” he asked, noticing for the first time the lines etched at the edges of her eyes. The slight hunch to her shoulders.
