“She needs—” she began.
“She is perfectly content,” Letitia cut in. “Eleanor has her entirely in hand.” She paused for a beat. “What did you say?”
“I smiled,” Isadora replied.
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
Letitia and Cecily exchanged a look that suggested they had both arrived at the same conclusion.
“More tea?” Isadora suggested.
“Yes, please,” Letitia said cheerfully.
CHAPTER 18
James had been waiting for it.
He had known it was coming from the moment William’s carriage rolled down the drive. He had seen it in the quiet of his best friend’s arrival, the way he had assessed Ashbourne.
He had given it two hours. William had given it ninety minutes, which was either impressive restraint or evidence that the drawing room had not provided an earlier opportunity.
“Drink?” James offered, moving to the decanter.
“It is three in the afternoon.”
“I’m aware. Drink?”
William sat. “Yes, fine.”
James poured, handed William a glass, and settled in the chair across from him with the ease of a man in his own study who had nothing on his conscience.
This was not entirely accurate, but he felt the presentation was solid.
William looked at his glass.
“How is it?” he asked. The light, casual register of a man beginning somewhere unintimidating before going where he actually intended to go.
James recognized this approach. He had been on the receiving end of it for fifteen years.
“Well,” he answered.
“The household.”
“Settling. The servants have found their feet. Henderson has the estate matters largely in hand.”
“And the child?”
“She is discovering her voice and using it well, especially against bath times,” James said, unable to keep the smile off his face. He looked at his glass. “Violet seems untroubled by the diplomatic consequences.”
William made a sound that was almost a laugh. “And Isadora?”
A pause.
“She is well,” James said. “She has—she has taken to it. The household, Violet. She is—” He stopped. “She is well.”
William glanced up at him. “Right.”
