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  Lord Nicholas and Mr. Durand bowed politely to each of the ladies. “Might we have the honor of joining you?” asked Mr. Durand. “Nicholas and I had been indulging in the dance this evening, and I, for one, must confess that I no longer have the stamina of my youth.” He drew out a handkerchief to wipe his brow.

  “Of course you may!” exclaimed Vanessa. “There is more than sufficient room for six here, provided the three of us move back.”

  The ladies settled themselves in the back, while Lord Hooper and Lord Nicholas took the bench at their right, Reese and Mr. Durand, the left.

  Lord Nicholas eyed the empty dish on the table with interest. “I see you ladies have already partaken of the Gardens’ culinary delights. Alas, I find myself sharp-set, even as I shall vigorously deny that I am headed for my dotage as poor George has just now asserted.”

  Mr. Durand shrugged. “I find I can bear the loss of my youthful attributes quite cheerfully inasmuch as the foolishness of my youth has likewise retreated to the past.”

  Lord Nicholas snorted. “You? Foolish? Impossible to credit it!”

  Personally, Vanessa was hard-pressed to see that the passage of time had made any inroads upon the visage of Mr. Durand. Indeed, his face had lost that freshness characteristic of young gentlemen in their twenties like Reese Bromfield, but Vanessa considered his well-defined jawline and finely sculpted features much to be preferred. Nor could she fail to approve his broad shoulders and trim waistline. Where had she encountered him before? She was certain they had not been formally introduced, or she would have remembered his name.

  Reese and Lord Hooper were staring at each other in horror.

  “We were meant to fetch refreshments,” Reese recalled, his ears turning red with remorse.

  “I beg your pardon, my dear,” said Lord Hooper to his wife. “We never meant to be so rag-mannered toward the ladies in our care.”

  Vanessa laughed. “We here are not such helpless females. As you see, we were quite capable of getting supper on our own.”

  “Although our pockets are considerably lighter than they were,” complained Eugenia.

  Reese reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “I shall make it up to you, my love. And Vanessa too, of course.”

  Vanessa wished she could refuse, but the truth was that she, too, was a bit short of the ready, after purchasing a supply of books for the classroom at the Foundling Hospital with the last of her pocket money. “You are very kind, Reese. A lady could not have a more generous brother-in-law!”

  “Would it be beyond the pale, do you think, dear ladies, if we were to partake of nourishment in your presence?” It seemed that Lord Hooper, as well as Lord Nicholas, was feeling peckish.

  “Not at all,” the ladies chimed in simultaneously.

  “While you satisfy your appetites, we shall take the opportunity to dominate the conversation,” Vanessa asserted with a teasing smile.

  Anthony grinned. “More so than usually is the case?” he said, exchanging knowing glances with the other gentlemen.

  “Precisely,” agreed Vanessa.

  And that is what occurred. While the gentlemen dined, the ladies peppered the two newcomers with questions. Both Lord Nicholas and Mr. Durand were widowers, although the conversation seemed to dance around the manner of their wives’ deaths, which must have occurred at more or less the same time. Both had daughters of fifteen years, with whom Vanessa silently commiserated, recalling what a difficult age it had been for her, and they motherless as well. Although her own mother had made it decidedly more difficult. But Mrs. Sedgely was what she was, and Vanessa had the impression that most mothers were of a more supportive variety.

  Both gentlemen were well-connected; Lord Nicholas, the younger brother of the Duke of Ashbury, and Mr. Durand, the grandson of a viscount. Lord Nicholas had an estate of his own, as well as a London townhouse, and his daughter currently resided with his brother’s family at their London home. Mr. Durand lived in St. Albans with his daughter, where he practiced law. It appeared that neither gentleman had been out much in society of late, which made it even more unlikely that Vanessa had ever met either. Why, then, did Mr. Durand seem so familiar to her?

  “Will you not tell me about your law practice, Mr. Durand? I must confess my ignorance on the subject. I presume you draw up wills and contracts, and the like?”

  Mr. Durand turned his warm brown eyes in Vanessa’s direction, and she felt dazzled. No man should have such beautiful eyes.

  “There is a great deal of paperwork required,” he agreed. “Research as well, there being hundreds of years of laws to consult. Fortunately, I have a partner, and we both employ law clerks to help with much of it. I represent a fair number of families—wills, estates, marriage contracts and the like—but my specialty is commercial law. Shipping, manufacturing, building—I serve them as legal consultant.”

  “More blunt in that side of it, I’m sure,” Anthony commented as he stabbed a piece of roast beef with his fork.

  “Don’t mistake George for a money grubber,” Lord Nicholas warned. “He lends his legal services to several worthy charities, and I don’t doubt that he hands over a fair mint of his own blunt as well.”

  Vanessa clapped her hands. “The Foundling Hospital. That’s where I’ve seen you. In the corridor following one of the meetings of the Board of Governors. Several weeks ago—more than a month, I think.”

  Mr. Durand tipped his head to the side and studied her. “Yes, I believe you are correct. There was a Governors’ meeting at the end of June, and I was present. I don’t recall meeting you, though. I’m sure I should remember if we’d been introduced. Were you there for a tour of the facility?”

  Vanessa colored. “Oh, no. We were never introduced. I had opened the door of the schoolroom—I teach the children there—just at the time the meeting was convening, and I saw you enter the boardroom with the other governors.”

  Chuckling, Mr. Durand denied that he was a governor. “I’m afraid I don’t rank among those esteemed gentlemen. My presence is strictly as consultant in matters of law. Quite banal, really.” He turned to Vanessa. “But you work with the children, Miss Sedgely. I suspect that is far more interesting—and gratifying. Might you be willing to tell how you became involved in such a worthwhile effort?”

  Lord Nicholas spoke up. “Yes, please do speak, Miss Sedgely. I like to rag George about it—all in fun, of course—but I admire him for having the gumption to advocate for the poor and unfortunate. And you, of course. Is it not a rather uncommon business for an unmarried lady?”

  Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “For an unmarried lady, Lord Nicholas? What can you possibly mean?”

  Lord Nicholas rubbed the back of his neck. “Wait. I didn’t mean—”

  “Of course he does not, Vanessa! I’m quite certain that Lord Nicholas meant only to commend you for your benevolence.” Eugenia kicked her older sister under the table.

  “Indeed I did, Miss Sedgely. I beg your pardon for any distress my clumsy words might have caused you.”

  Vanessa cleared her throat. “On the contrary, my lord, it falls to me to apologize. My remark was out of line. The truth is that my involvement with the Foundling Hospital arose from a desire to find some worthwhile occupation for my life beyond the tedium of shopping and social calls.”

  She explained that the impetus for her interest in the education of foundlings came about when the Sedgelys’ housekeeper had taken on a new housemaid who had been raised at the Foundling Hospital and trained as a servant with a prominent house. Her former employer declined to take her on permanently because she lacked even a basic education. She’d been surprised to discover that the Foundling Hospital offered no education to the children it took in, other than an apprenticeship when they reached adolescence.

  “It occurred to me that it would take very little to teach them to read, write, and do sums,” she explained, “so I offered my services, which the Board condescended to accept, and the rest, so they say, is history.�
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  Mr. Durand touched a fist to his chin. “I don’t seem to recall such a proposal. When was this, Miss Sedgely?”

  “Almost two years ago.”

  “Ah.” Mr. Durand exchanged a glance with Lord Nicholas. “I took a leave of absence that year.”

  Lord Hooper coughed, and Philippa aimed warning glances at Vanessa and her party, which caused Vanessa to blink. Was there something about the deaths of the gentlemen’s wives that made it uncomfortable for them to discuss? She resolved to coax the answers out of Philippa as soon as they were private.

  The awkward moment passed and the conversation continued amiably until Eugenia grew to fretting over her separation from her child, and although Reese assured her that little Richard was no doubt asleep in his crib under the vigilant supervision of his nurse, they decided to depart. Mr. Durand and Lord Nicholas made their farewells, declaring their intention to remain for the fireworks, which were rumored to be significantly enhanced for the occasion of the British victories on the Peninsula.

  While the ladies waited at the gate for the gentlemen to return with the carriage, Philippa and Eugenia were bursting with excitement.

  “What a stroke of luck, Vanessa! Not just one eligible gentleman, but two—appearing out of the blue just as you had resolved to seek a husband!”

  “And both quite pleasant to look at, too! Which one shall it be, Vanessa? Lord Nicholas is the heir to a dukedom; imagine our Vanessa as a duchess!”

  Vanessa’s pulse was racing with excitement, but she refused to acknowledge it. “Nonsense. I shan’t set my cap at either of them.” Liar, she told herself.

  “You mustn’t aspire to a duchess, Vanessa,” warned Philippa. “Lord Nicholas’s brother is still of an age to produce a son, and likely will.”

  Vanessa rolled her eyes. “I don’t ever wish for a coronet,” she declared.

  “Mother would be aux anges,” teased her sister. “But it must be Mr. Durand, then. He seems quite an amiable gentleman, and I believe his appearance was pleasing to you, Vanessa. I believe your eyes were fixed on him much more than was proper.”

  Vanessa’s eyes widened in horror. “Were they, Genie? Do you think he noticed? Was he offended, do you think? I never intended to do so…”

  Philippa put a hand on her shoulder. “Your sister is teasing you, Vanessa dear, which you would have recognized had you been your usual levelheaded self. Since you are not, however, it must be that you are truly smitten with Mr. Durand.”

  “Oh my, surely not,” Vanessa said uncertainly. “I’ve only just met him. I don’t know anything about him, really.” A thought occurred to her. “Philippa, what happened two years ago that nobody wishes to talk about? That precipitated Mr. Durand’s leave of absence.”

  Philippa gave a deep sigh. “I can’t say for sure, but I surmise it had to do with his wife’s death. And Lord Nicholas’s wife as well. They were killed in a carriage mishap, along with their mother. They were sisters, you know. I believe it happened about that time.”

  Vanessa and Eugenia gasped in horror.

  “Both gentlemen have been absent from the social scene for quite some time. Apparently it was quite a blow,” Philippa continued. “But time does heal old wounds, Vanessa, and I believe any widowed gentleman with a fifteen-year-old daughter must be in need of a wife. All you have to do,” she said, putting a hand on Vanessa’s shoulder, “is convince him of the fact.”

  Is that all?

  It seemed an impossible task, but oddly enough, Vanessa could not get the idea out of her mind. If she had to have a husband, she thought Mr. Durand might fill the role quite tolerably.

  Perhaps she would set her cap at him. But first she would have to find out more about him. His character. His financial status—well, she could hardly marry a pauper, could she? His daughter. Hmm. She hadn’t counted on becoming stepmother to a nearly-grown girl. That would require some serious consideration.

  But there was a lightness in her chest as her maid helped her dress for bed and pulled the bedcovers over her. Vanessa Durand, she thought as she drifted off to sleep. Mrs. George Durand. It sounded so… right.

  Chapter 3

  The Foundling Hospital, 40 Brunswick Square, London

  A week later

  “Are you certain it is not an imposition, Miss Sedgely? Because I shouldn’t mind showing the ladies around myself, in Mrs. Seavers’s absence.”

  Vanessa’s chin rose as she directed a firm gaze at the institution’s housekeeper. “I assure you there is no imposition whatsoever, Mrs. Barnes. I shall be pleased to guide the ladies on their tour this morning, as Matron directed.”

  Mrs. Barnes flushed. Obviously she considered the task her own prerogative, but Vanessa had not taken the trouble to get the hospital matron out of town just to be foiled by the housekeeper.

  “But what about your students, Miss Sedgely? The children do so look forward to them! Why, they will be exceedingly disappointed to miss them today.” She leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming. “I hear that little Willie has prepared a special passage to read for you. He is quite partial to you, you know.”

  Vanessa refused to allow herself to be diverted, in spite of the tiny twinge of guilt she felt deep inside. “My maid has agreed to take my classes for today. She has assisted me previously, you know, and thus is well-known to the children.”

  She gave a curt nod to the housekeeper, who took it as the dismissal it was meant to be, and walked out of the room.

  The Board of Governors was conducting a meeting in a quarter hour’s time, and Vanessa had taken great pains to find a reason to be lingering in the foyer as the gentlemen arrived. It was Mr. George Durand she wished to encounter, of course. During the week since the masquerade at Vauxhall, she had unearthed a great deal of information about the attractive gentleman.

  George William Durand was the grandson of a viscount, and had made law his profession, his late father being the younger son. Durand’s cousin William had become the 4th Viscount Faringdon five years ago following his father’s death, and he had four healthy sons to follow him, which meant the title was unlikely to fall to George. George had followed his father into the law profession, although interestingly, he had briefly studied landscape gardening with one of Capability Brown’s former associates. That ended after his marriage, however, when young George set himself to becoming a successful solicitor like his father. His wife, Geneviève d’Aumale, was a French émigrée, the daughter of a comte who had lost his head on the Place de la Concorde at the hands of revolutionaries. She, her sister Juliette, and their mother the comtesse had lost their lives in a carriage accident, which had arisen from an attack of highwaymen.

  So dreadful. Life was so ephemeral. In a matter of minutes, three ladies’ lives had been snuffed out in a horrific manner, leaving their families to bear the loss as best they could. And their adolescent daughters, of course. Both Durand and Lord Nicholas had daughters, approximately the same age. And perhaps not surprisingly, both had been residing with relatives since the tragedy. Men were notoriously helpless when it came to their maturing daughters. But in retrospect, Vanessa thought it rather pitiable that the girls had effectively lost both parents in that one disastrous moment.

  One thing was certain, however. A well-off gentleman with a near-grown daughter was clearly in need of a wife. And Vanessa thought she might suit this one very well indeed.

  * * *

  The Durand home, King Street, St. Albans, Hertfordshire

  In the week since Louise’s ill-advised flight from St. Albans, George had been hard-put to come up with a reasonable strategy for managing his daughter. Clearly, Mrs. Crewe was incapable of keeping her in line. He sent a messenger with a note of thanks and an apology for his daughter’s thoughtless behavior, and then sat back and reassessed his original plan of employing a governess to take her in hand. What Louise really needed was a mother-figure, someone who could guide her in matters of social intercourse. Morning calls, shopping, walking through the park, and wha
tever else proper young English ladies were expected to do. She’d resisted Mrs. Crewe’s attempts to do needlework and study improving literature—he supposed he couldn’t blame her for that—but as a child she’d loved to dance. Perhaps a dancing master might appeal.

  He sagged back in his chair and closed his eyes, only too conscious of his parental inadequacy. Raising their daughter had been primarily Genny’s responsibility, and then, he’d passed it on to his sister. And while he’d argued bitterly with his wife about her determination to fill Louise’s head with dreams of regaining the d’Aumale title and estate, his protests were rendered ineffectual by virtue of the fact that he was so often away from home and family.

  Perhaps, after all, he should have left Louise to the care of his sister. Most men, he thought, would probably have done so. Lacey seemed inclined to leave Blanche with the Ashbury family, but then he wasn’t sure he wanted to use his brother-in-law as a model to copy. He and Juliette had been the ultimate love match; without her, he seemed rudderless and morose. George’s grief, on the other hand, was sullied by feelings of both relief and guilt, which he had dealt with by working harder than he had ever done in his life. The result was a thriving business—and a big, aching hole in his heart.

  No, he had done right to bring Louise back. He needed her and she needed him, whether she knew it or not. He’d find a way to earn her affection and trust, no matter what it took.

  The clock on the mantel struck nine, reminding him that he was due at the Foundling Hospital at three o’clock.

  “Frasier,” he called to the butler, “Send someone up to help to dress Miss Durand and pack for a few days—perhaps up to a week—in Town. And have Cook prepare a basket for the journey. We shan’t have time for more than a wash and a change of dress by the time we arrive there.”