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“You look like a duck crossing the road,” her brother observed.

“Miss Victoria does not move in that exaggerated manner,” Kelbourne said.

Florence turned around, hands on her hips, and swished left, then right. “Enticing ladies wiggle!” she informed the viscount.

“Yes, Mother wiggled,” Val agreed.

A glance flashed between the twins, something that Torie couldn’t interpret.

Florence returned to her seat and tucked one bare foot under her. “I’m only eleven. I have time to learn how to entice a husband.”

“Very true,” Torie agreed.

“I suppose you haven’t found one because you can’t read,” Florence said, giving her a sympathetic look. “You could live with me once I’m married, if you wish.”

“To be quite frank, the idea of marriage turns my stomach,” Valentine said. “I think I’ll avoid it. You never truly know who you’re marrying, do you? Flo wrote a story about a man who killed several wives. Each one was terribly surprised when she discovered a chamber full of legs and arms and such.”

“Why did he chop up his wives, let alone kill them?” Torie asked.

Florence shrugged. “I got the idea from an item in the newspaper about Lord Adolphus Bufford, who had three wives. All of them died, so obviously he killed them.”

“I am acquainted with Lord Bufford,” Torie said. In fact, he had been one of Kelbourne’s rivals for Leonora’s hand in marriage. “I’ve danced with him numerous times, and I assure you that he is a perfect gentleman.”

“Dancing is not the same as marriage,” Valentine pointed out, with some justification. “His homicidal tendencies wouldn’t be obvious in a ballroom.”

“Lord Bufford is an elderly peer, well respected in the House of Lords,” Kelbourne said sharply.

“Three wives,” Florence reminded him. “Respect from his peers is hardly likely to stifle bloodthirsty impulses. Just look at Lady Macbeth! She was probably ladylike until she bathed her hands in blood.”

Torie was thoroughly enjoying the fact that neither child was intimidated by the viscount. Lady Dorney’s interesting romantic life had apparently kept her so busy that she had neglected to teach her children to respect their elders.

Or, like Leonora, she might have considered her mothering duties completed after she dropped her children in the country. Torie had the distinct impression that the twins had raised themselves with the help of their father’s library.

“Two dead wives might be regarded as misfortune, but three smacks of homicide,” Valentine put in, grinning.

“This is a most improper subject for conversation,” the viscount pronounced.

“You wouldn’t want Miss Victoria to keep dancing with Bufford, would you?” Valentine asked. “What if he began courting her? What if he proposed?”

“No worries about that,” Torie said. “He would never choose someone like me.”

“Because of the reading problem,” Valentine said, nodding.

“Partially, but more likely on the grounds of character. Lord Bufford is very worthy, and wouldn’t want someone as frivolous as I. I combine illiteracy with a passion for painting flowers, remember?”

“You’re very pretty, though,” Florence observed. “We look wretched in black, but it makes your skin look as white as . . . as wallpaper paste.”

“Wallpaper paste!” her brother exclaimed with disgust. “Moonlight, Flo! Or milk. Or lilies. White lilies!”

“Thank you both,” Torie said, desperately trying to stop herself from bursting into laughter.

“I wouldn’t mind marrying you,” Valentine observed. “I could read aloud to you.”

“Perhaps you could read to me even if I don’t marry you? I am rather old for you, though I do appreciate the compliment.”

“Age is merely a number,” Valentine said with a wave of his hand. “If not me, why don’t you marry our second father?” He nodded toward Kelbourne. “He’s older, but we sweeten the bargain.”

“He can’t. He’s marrying her sister,” Florence pointed out.