“That bad?” She burst out laughing, and then pointed a dainty finger at him. “You are a diplomat. The first portrait isstored in the attic because mother thought it made her look fat. A most unfortunate circumstance is the second painting makes her look fatter. I’ve heard maids whisper the likeness gives them nightmares.” She peered at him from beneath her eyelashes.
He flashed her a wicked smile. “I’ve never been to an opera before. Wouldn’t know what to do.”
“Are you asking me to be your chaperone?” She bobbed up on her toes, her eyes meeting his.
“You surprise me, Miss Spencer. I’d be delighted. I bid you goodnight.”
Chapter Eight
Edward Spencer opened the doors to the shared salon between their two suites with Alva dogging his steps.
“We need to discuss our daughter, Elizabeth,” Alva spat.
His wife had expensive perfume. Why must she marinate in it? “Elizabeth is a rare beauty and quite charming. I’d hate to think a mother was jealous of her own daughter,” he said, letting that thought snake around his wife.
Alva lifted a heavy rope of emeralds from her neck and tossed them on a table. “An ill business, that, to hide a young woman with a disreputable background and keep her in a high place. I do wonder if all the money you spent to keep the scandal at bay was well-spent. What if there was a leak? Then what would we do?”
“One can create all kinds of fiction to obtain their objectives. I’ll tell you when to fear when there is something to worry about.”
Alva summoned a challenging mew of displeasure. “I had a strict upbringing and the way you allow Elizabeth to gallivant about town is shameful. She’s not a young girl anymore. She’s a spinster and needs to marry.”
Edward walked to the mantel and rested his elbow on it. “I’m in no hurry to hasten our daughter to the altar.”
Alva plunked herself down on the velvet settee. “Elizabeth has always been a peculiar girl. If I’d known she had played sports in that progressive primary school you sent her to, I never would have allowed it. She never took up needlework or painting like other young ladies and has no interest in men.”
“Can you blame her?”
“I don’t for one second believe she has no knowledge of who the man was that put her in the family way. She is protecting him.”
“Nevertheless, she is a Spencer and will be safeguarded.”
“So, you are admitting there is a possibility.”
“No, I am not. Everything has been taken care of.”
“And the child? You got rid of it so no evidence of it will be traced to us?
“How grandmotherly of you, Alva.”
“Don’t play that game with me.”
Edward lit a cigar, blew out the match and threw it into the fireplace. “I’ve gone over this a million times. The child has been sent anonymously to a family in the west. The child will be cared for.”
She pointed her finger at him. “I hope you covered your tracks well. Something this monumental may well be our ruin. And why are you being so stubborn when it comes to her? I’m always right about things like this. You wouldn’t want her marrying a cowboy, would you? And don’t think I didn’t notice the attention Mr. Rourke was giving her.”
“They just met, and it looked to me like a Civil War had broken out. You’d get more affection between two badgers going at it.”
“Who do you think you are fooling? I have a sixth sense about such things. They know each other…maybe intimately.”
“Stop it, Alva. Won’t you give your daughter the benefit of the doubt that she may well have been raped? Might you show her compassion instead of scorn?”
Alva’s mouth tightened. “She owns a hopeless independent streak she learned from you. Giving her all that education has gone to her head. And the Catholics no less! Now, she cavorts with ragtag orphans all day and you allow it.”
“She is a modern young woman. Education was good for Elizabeth. I find her an asset at the dinner table, bringing many ideas and charming my business guests.”
“Is that a backhanded way of saying I’m unacceptable?”
“Alva, you need a hobby. Besides, I admire her charity work, and the Fitzgeralds who support the institution are good people.”
