Page 4

In truth, they showed no signs of grief.

The girl was twisting one foot behind the other to rub her ankle; her heavy black stockings must itch. Their nanny cuffed her on the shoulder, and she subsided before switching legs and starting again. Her brother stared straight ahead, as if he were pretending to be elsewhere.

Torie could sympathize.

Viscount Kelbourne cleared his throat. “Miss Sutton, Miss Victoria, Sir William, may I present my late sister’s children, Miss Florence and Master Valentine. Accompanied by Nanny Bracknell.”

Neither child moved nor said a word until the nanny shoved Valentine forward. He bowed; Florence curtsied.

“They seem well enough,” Torie’s father said. “Not overtaken by grief, eh?”

“They have resided in the country,” Kelbourne remarked.

Presumably the twins had had little acquaintance with their notorious mama, Lady Dorney, and given the scandal after their birth—when all society competed to guess which of Lady Dorney’s lovers fathered the children—Lord Dorney likely kept his distance as well.

Torie looked sideways at her sister, but Leonora was twirling an emerald bracelet that Kelbourne had given her last month, after she finally allowed him to set the date for their wedding.

Torie nudged her in the ribs.

Leonora started. “What?”

“The children,” Torie whispered.

Her sister jumped to her feet. “Please forgive me. I am Miss Sutton,” Leonora said, “and I am betrothed to your guardian. I offer my sincere condolences.”

Torie stood up too. “I am her sister, Miss Victoria. I’m so sorry about your parents’ passing.”

The children gave them clear-eyed looks and chorused, “Thank you.”

Her sister’s fiancé was regarding the orphans with the air of a man who had inherited a puzzle box without a key. His eyes were shadowed, and his face drawn.

Kelbourne had clearly loved his scandalous sister. Torie was certain that he had felt grief during the funeral, though the only outbursts of violent emotion came from Lady Dorney’s former lovers, who revealed themselves as such by sobbing inconsolably throughout.

Whether the viscount could love his sister’s orphaned children was another question. He certainly wasn’t exhibiting paternal warmth now. He nodded curtly at Nanny Bracknell. One bow and a curtsy later, the woman escorted the children away.

As soon as the door closed, Sir William bounded out of his seat and headed for the brandy decanter. “The boy’s a bit weedy, isn’t he? Can’t see a resemblance to Dorney, but that’s a moot point.”

“I assure you that young Valentine resembles his paternal ancestors,” Kelbourne stated.

Torie winced at his lordship’s grim expression. Unfortunately, her father had his back to the room.

“Of course!” he threw over his shoulder, pouring himself a drink. “Bad luck the Dorneys were in that carriage together, given that they lived apart by most accounts. You did the funeral good and proper, Viscount. The mourning coaches were a nice touch. None of the gossips can claim that you didn’t give your poor sister an excellent send-off, even given her free-spirited ways. Must be a relief, but you didn’t let on.”

“I shall never consider Lady Dorney’s demise to be a relief,” Kelbourne said, his voice as frigid as arctic ice.

Sir William drained his brandy and poured himself another finger before he turned around. Even a man as oblivious as Torie’s father couldn’t overlook the warning note in his lordship’s voice. “Damme, but I always put my foot in it,” he cried. “I’ll ask you to forgive me for my lack of good breeding. It’s not as if we don’t have free-spirited women in my own family.”

Leonora looked up and then back at her bracelet.

“My wife was inclined to dance to the beat of her own drum,” Sir William said. “Ah, but she was a delightful lass, high-spirited, dazzling . . . flirtatious. She couldn’t help herself. Ravishing, the picture of your own Leonora.”

He finished his glass and turned back to the decanter. “Sure I can’t give you a slug?”

“No, thank you,” the viscount replied. Torie had a sickening feeling that Kelbourne wouldn’t stand for more of her father’s loutish sentiments.

Leonora was staring at the emeralds ringing her wrist with the keen attention of a jewelry merchant.

“Course, my wife looked like Leonora, but that was the end of their similarity,” Sir William added. “It’s our Torie who takes after her mama. Never met a lad she couldn’t charm.”