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“You are so rarely at home,” Leonora complained. “Lord Bufford paid us a morning call yesterday, and you were nowhere to be found. I had to summon Emily to chaperone. I could almost think that you deliberately avoided him.”

“You would be correct,” Torie confirmed. She had glimpsed Bufford’s carriage trundle to a stop before the house and promptly slipped down the back stairs. “Given that Lord Bufford just escorted us to the theater, I didn’t expect to see him the very next day. Besides, he only comes to see you.”

The elderly baron hadn’t given up hope of winning Leonora from the viscount and had been taking full advantage of Kelbourne’s withdrawal from society due to mourning to escort her to balls and the theater almost every night.

A faint smile touched Leonora’s lips. “His lordship is remarkably persistent, isn’t he? Yet he’s such a gentleman that he never makes me feel uncomfortable. I feel safe in his company even without a chaperone.”

To Torie’s mind, ravishment was unlikely, because Bufford had to be past sixty and walked with a cane. “Does being in Kelbourne’s company make you uncomfortable? We haven’t seen much of your fiancé in the last month.”

She kept to herself the fact that she often met Kelbourne coming or going from the nursery. They’d even shared a few meals, chaperoned by the twins and the Odyssey, which had proved bloody enough for Florence and eloquent enough for Val.

Leonora shrugged. “The viscount is in mourning, Torie. It would be most inappropriate for him to attend the theater, let alone a ball. As you know, I am besieged by invitations and in need of a companion. Lord Bufford is a godsend.”

“Mourning wouldn’t prevent your fiancé from taking you for a drive in the park,” Torie observed. She was slightly worried that Leonora would change her mind about Kelbourne and decide to marry someone more manageable. Thankfully, no other viscounts were available for marriage.

In the depths of the night, Torie had started to imagine raising the twins, as Leonora had suggested. Perhaps if they moved to the country, she might meet a farmer, preferably one who couldn’t read. A broad-shouldered man without pretensions, but with burly thighs.

Kelbourne’s thighs were far more muscled than those of the Duke of Queensberry. According to Leonora, her fiancé’s daily rapier practice had resulted in swollen muscles, which she found most distasteful.

Torie would never look at her sister’s future husband with desire, of course, but she had to admit that she liked swollen muscles.

“I might summon Kelbourne for a drive in Hyde Park,” Leonora said, sounding distinctly unenthusiastic. “He’s getting impatient about our delayed wedding.”

“That’s fair, given the two years you put him off even before he went into mourning.”

“I certainly couldn’t have married him within months of his proposal. Hasty weddings give entirely the wrong impression.”

Such as the impression that two people couldn’t wait to be together? But then Torie realized her sister was talking about the overly prompt appearance of babies.

“Last year was extremely crowded with events,” Leonora continued. “The celebrations following the conferral of Prince Augustus Frederick’s dukedom, for example. The wedding of a viscount should be the premier event of the Season.”

“You could meet Kelbourne in his own house while visiting the nursery,” Torie suggested. “Once you are better acquainted, I am certain you will grow fond of Valentine and Florence.”

“I don’t wish to be acquainted with them, let alone feel a warmer emotion,” Leonora stated. “Fairly or unfairly, they carry the blemish of their mother’s shameful reputation. I can’t imagine why Kelbourne hasn’t dispatched them to the country, but I think less of him for it. It is not fair to them to raise them in the environs of polite society when they will never find a place amongst us.”

“You sound remarkably uncharitable,” Torie observed. Sometimes her only defense was to attack Leonora for unladylike comportment. “Shouldn’t you be more loyal to your fiancé?”

“I am being practical. Reputation aside, can you imagine me introducing that strange-looking girl to society? Her eyes are the color of gooseberries.”

“Florence is beautiful!” Torie protested. “Her hair curls most attractively.”

Leonora wrinkled her nose, so Torie added cunningly, “If we made a brief visit to the nursery, you could take another look at the grand salon. If you recall, you decided that it needed renovation.”

When Leonora finally agreed, she insisted on taking the carriage all of three blocks and sending in her card. Flitwick himself came out to the carriage to say that the viscount was in attendance at the House of Lords, but he implored them to enter for a cup of pekoe tea and a few of Mrs. Flitwick’s freshly baked lemon scones.

“No scones,” Leonora stated, descending from the carriage.

“Yes, scones,” Torie said, jumping down. “Flitwick, we’d like to see the children, so perhaps we could take tea in the nursery.”

“First, the grand salon,” Leonora said, making her priorities clear.

She spent the next hour directing Flitwick to strip the oak paneling and create a serene and symmetrical space. “I prefer quiet colors. Those crimson draperies are horrendous.” She gave a dramatic shudder. “This room must be completely refurbished before I live here. The cacophony of color is most disturbing.”

Flitwick assured her that work could begin immediately.

“We shan’t marry for at least six months,” Leonora told him.

Torie managed not to raise an eyebrow, though she was certain that the viscount planned to marry as soon as he was out of deep mourning.