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Dominic’s heart sank. Leonora wasn’t wrong. No lady of his acquaintance—except for Torie—could have heard that list without taking grave offense.

“You see,” his fiancée said, her voice crackling with rage. “Moreover, she—they—spoke insolently of their dead parents. And my own father!”

“Where is your nanny?” Dominic asked the children.

“The nanny is irrelevant,” Leonora spat. “We have come to an impasse, Kelbourne. You must face reality. These children display none of the qualities required of those of gentle birth. Their behavior is a mark of their parentage.”

“No, merely lack of education,” Torie cut in. “They are making great strides.”

“Nanny Bracknell is belowstairs,” Florence reported.

“Do not speak unless you are spoken to,” Leonora spat.

“I was spoken to,” Florence objected. “My father asked me a question, and I responded.”

“Your—father. Father? He is, at best, your guardian.” Leonora looked to Dominic. “Fix this, if you please.”

Dominic felt a surge of raw anger at her rudeness, which he instantly quashed. In time Leonora would come to terms with the twins’ place in her life. “The situation does not require repair. The children were given to me and rightly consider me their second father. I am raising them.”

“In the Odyssey, Penelope raises Telemachus by herself,” Valentine said. Meeting Leonora’s uncomprehending stare, he clarified, “Telemachus is the son of Odysseus.” And then, when she still didn’t respond, he added with painstaking emphasis, “Odysseus is the subject of a classic epic, the Odyssey.”

“A non sequitur,” Florence observed. She turned to Torie. “A non sequitur is a statement that doesn’t logically follow from what came before.”

“I believe that Valentine means to applaud Lord Kelbourne’s parenting,” Torie said. “Leonora, I assure you that the twins are learning the rules of conduct at an extraordinary rate. Valentine has taken interest in the pianoforte, and—”

“He is a boy,” Leonora gasped. “Are you planning to teach him to embroider?”

“I shouldn’t care for it,” Valentine said thoughtfully.

“Do not speak unless addressed!”

Dominic made the unwelcome discovery that his fiancée’s eyes had an uncanny resemblance to a hawk’s. He moved to Leonora’s side and held out his elbow. “May I escort you downstairs, Miss Sutton?”

She cast a look at him, walked to the door, wrenched it open, and left.

“To return to the Odyssey, Telemachus turned out fine with only one parent,” Valentine said.

Torie moved to his side and plucked two feathers from his curls. “My sister was shaken, but she will be an excellent guardian to you both, once she gets used to the idea.”

“You told us she was a reader,” Valentine said.

“She is,” Torie insisted. “Ladies are not offered the Odyssey, so she’s had no opportunity to read it. You must be fair.” She sat down on the settee, and Florence immediately nestled beside her.

Dominic ought to follow his fiancée out the door, but instead he walked to the fireplace and dropped into a seat. “What am I to do now?” he asked bleakly.

Perhaps if he’d met Torie before Leonora—but that was inconceivable, even if Torie was kind to the children. Beloved by them, if truth be told.

He had chosen Leonora for her intelligence, ladylike grace, and acumen. They had been first introduced in an interval during a performance of Molière’s classic play Tartuffe. Leonora had decried the vulgar plot, while noting that the English translation had neglected to reproduce Molière’s twelve-syllable lines. Dominic had decided in that moment to make her his bride.

Now the very reasons for which he had chosen her had come into conflict with his loyalty to his sister’s children. Tempting though it was to break the betrothal, as a gentleman, he could not. This situation was not Leonora’s fault.

Opposite him, Torie drew in a deep breath. “I’ll take them.”

Dominic’s mind muddled as her bodice strained—and somehow did not slip below her nipples. Torie’s bodices were so low that no man could stop himself from picturing her naked. Her sister was near prudish in her dressing; Torie was the opposite.

“What did you say?” Florence asked, looking up at Torie. “Take us where?”

“Would you like to live in the country with me?”