He was thinking about her again.
Damn.
“Your Grace?” Miss Stanton tilted her head. “Are you well? You look rather flushed.”
“The room is warm.” Edward tugged at his cravat. “Forgive me. You were saying?”
“I was asking about your nephew.” Her expression softened with genuine interest. “I understand he recently came to live with you. That must be quite a change.”
Oliver.
This was why he needed a wife. Not for himself, but for the boy who flinched when Edward entered a room, who only smiled when Lady Sophia visited, who needed a mother’s warmth that Edward could not provide.
“It has been challenging,” he admitted. “Oliver lost his parents recently. He is still grieving.”
“Poor child.” Miss Stanton pressed a hand to her heart. “Children are so resilient, but they need stability. Consistency. Someone to help them feel safe.”
Lady Sophia made Oliver feel safe. Lady Sophia kneeled on schoolroom floors and read stories and let him lead their conversations. Lady Sophia remembered his mother and spoke of her with love, while Edward could barely say Jane’s name without flinching.
He was thinking about her again.
“You’re right.” He forced his attention back to Miss Stanton. “Stability is essential. I am seeking to provide that for him.”
“A noble goal.” Miss Stanton smiled. “I have always loved children. My younger siblings adore me, if I may say so without sounding boastful. I believe children simply need to know they are valued.”
She was saying all the right things. She was pretty and accomplished and came from a respectable family. She had opinions about art and affection for children and a smile that was perfectly pleasant.
She was not Lady Sophia.
Edward wanted to bang his head against the nearest wall.
“Miss Stanton.” He cleared his throat. “Would you and your aunt do me the honor of accompanying me on a walk through Hyde Park? Tomorrow afternoon, perhaps?”
Her face brightened. “I would be delighted, Your Grace. I had already promised to accompany my aunt on her walk. The air does her good.”
“Hyde Park, then.” His mouth curved.
“If it would not inconvenience you, we are accustomed to walking at two.”
“Excellent.” He bowed. “I shall be there at two o’clock.”
He excused himself and retreated to the fireplace, where Hugo waited with a fresh glass of claret and an insufferable smirk.
“A promenade in the park.” Hugo handed him the wine. “How romantic. How conventional. How utterly unlike you.”
“It is practical.” Edward drained half of the glass. “She’s suitable. Oliver needs a mother. I need a wife. Miss Stanton could serve both purposes admirably.”
“Serve.” Hugo’s smirk widened. “How passionate. I am certain she will be thrilled to know she has been deemed adequate for service.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know you spent the entire conversation looking like a man trying to remember where he left his cravat.” Hugo leaned closer. “And I know that whatever you were actually thinking about, it was not Miss Stanton’s opinions on Turner.”
Edward said nothing. He stared into his wine and thought about green eyes and sharp tongues and the way his pulse still raced whenever he remembered the taste of her.
“Go home, Edward.” Hugo’s voice softened. “You are fooling no one. Least of all yourself.”
Edward finished his wine and set down the glass.
