He raised his brows. “What doeshmmmean?”
“Da always said that it takes two to negotiate. Maybe Mr. Bodin doesn’t listen because he thinks you’re not willing to do the same.”
Disgruntled, Severin said, “It is not my job to listen to him. He is my employee, not vice versa. Trust me, when I fought my way up through the ranks, none of my employers asked my opinion. And I didn’t go around offering it either. I just did my bloody job and was grateful to have one.”
“You would know best.” She smiled at him. “I’d like to see your office someday.”
“I’ll give you a tour.” Ready to change the topic, he asked, “How was your day?”
This led to Fancy giving him an account of her activities. He found it oddly soothing to hear her domestic anecdotes. Perhaps it was the way she told her stories: she seemed to see the world through a lens that, while not precisely rose-colored, let in mostly the good. She saw the best in everything, even his siblings.
“You wouldn’t believe how well Toby is doing with Bertrand,” she said. “’E…he has the donkey literally eating out of his hand. Bertrand ate so many carrots that Cook ran out and had to send for more.”
Severin felt his lips quirk at her enthusiasm. Leave it to Fancy to find something Toby could do without hurting himself or others.
“The boy could talk of nothing else at supper,” he commented.
“He seems more confident, don’t you think?” she asked. “I think that’s the root of ’is…his problem. If he becomes surer of himself, then maybe he’ll have less accidents.”
As he looked at his wife’s eager expression, warmth spread through his chest. How could he have doubted Fancy’s ability to manage his siblings? With her kind and loving nature, she could win anyone over.
“Maybe Toby just likes having your attention,” he said softly.
And I don’t blame the lad.
“That’s true too.” She rolled so that she lay partly atop him, her chin propped on her folded arms. “But I think he would like your attention even more.”
He threaded his fingers through her hair, enjoying the satiny texture and the privilege of touching her.
“Toby doesn’t want my attention. He’s a bundle of nerves when I’m around,” Severin said. “I’m not a soft touch like you.”
“He’s only nervous because he wants you to like him. During the visits with Bertrand, he’s told me some things about his life in France. It sounded lonely,” Fancy said, her expression troubled. “He wanted your father’s approval, I think, but the duke was never around to give it.”
“My sire was hardly a shining example of fatherhood,” he said dryly.
“Exactly. Which is why it would be nice for you to spend more time with Toby and your other siblings.”
“Me?” He stared at her.
“Yes, you.”
“I am not their father. I’m not even their full-blooded kin.”
“But you are their guardian. The only one who’s cared enough to take an interest in them.”
“It was out of necessity, not caring,” he said bluntly.
“Why didn’t you just leave them in that drafty old chateau?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You could’ve left Toby and Eleanor there with their governess, and Cecily and Jonas to their own devices. But you brought them all to London. Why?”
“Because our father made me their guardian. I was only doing my duty.”
“You could have done it from London and left them in France,” she insisted.
“I could not. They weren’t living respectably—”
