“You can finish later,” Lisette said cheerfully, holding out her hand.

“Anne and I don’t mind if you both leave,” Eleanor put in, without being asked. “I’ll just finish my plate and retire upstairs.”

“Well, I do mind,” Villiers said coolly. “If you must leave the table, Lisette, you might ask Lady Eleanor or Mrs. Bouchon to act as hostess in your place.”

Lisette laughed, but there was a dangerous edge there, an edge that Eleanor remembered from tantrums of years ago. “Why on earth would I adhere to such stuffy rules? I don’t run my household that way! It’s time to say good-night to the girls, so I shall go. And I know that you want to come with me.”

“I don’t,” he said flatly, looking up at her.

Her hand dropped.

“I wish to finish my fowl, and then I plan to have some of that excellent lamb that Popper has on the side table,” Villiers said. “And after that I shall likely have some sugared plums, since I see them waiting as well.”

There was a dangerous, trembling moment when peace hung in the balance. But then Lisette’s face cleared and she burst out laughing. “You men!” she said, half shrieking with laughter. “You’re completely worthless if you haven’t finished your meal. I know that.” She shook her head. “My papa is exactly the same. Cross as a bear until he’s had his morning tea and toast.”

“Exactly,” Villiers said, taking a bite of fowl. “Do give the children my best.”

“I’ll tell them you’ll be upstairs in ten minutes,” she said blithely, trotting out the door.

“I won’t—” he said. But she was gone.

“Popper,” Villiers said to the butler, “wait until Lady Lisette has left the nursery, and then inform the children that I will visit them in the morning, just as I told them a short while ago, would you?”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Popper said.

Eleanor allowed a footman to take away her sole, since it was rather salty to her taste, and accepted a slice of Milanese flan in its place.

“That was awkward,” Villiers said after a time.

“Lisette has never cared much for eating,” Eleanor said.

“Yes,” Villiers said thoughtfully. “I, on the other hand, care a great deal for eating. You seem to share my preference.”

Eleanor was instantly conscious that she was far more curvy than Lisette, and likely could stand to lose some weight.

“Do you suppose that the Duke of Astley will really return for the treasure hunt?” Anne asked.

Eleanor felt a deep certainty that he would. In her opinion, Gideon had gone slightly mad. He had always been so prudent and principled…but no longer.

“Of course he will,” Villiers said. “He’s in love.”

“In love,” Anne said, as if tasting the words. “What an extraordinary concept for such a tiresome man. You know,” she said, turning to Eleanor, “I really do owe both you and him an apology.”

“I can’t think why,” Eleanor said, endeavoring to end the conversation the way their mother surely would have.

“I told you that the man never loved you enough, that he was a weak-chinned milksop. I was obviously wrong.”

“Did you indeed?” Villiers said. “Interesting.”

“As I said, I was wrong,” Anne said, ignoring him. “The fact that Astley snapped back to your side shows that he does love you—is in love with you, in fact. How romantic.”

“Yes, very,” Villiers chimed in.

Eleanor just concentrated on eating her flan. She had wished, years ago, that Gideon was brave enough to risk his reputation in order to marry her rather than Ada. She couldn’t have asked for more than what he was doing now. If he appeared at that treasure hunt, and particularly if he showed a marked preference for her, the scandal would ricochet across the ton.

“At this rate, everyone will be discussing the treasure hunt for the next month,” Anne said, confirming Eleanor’s anxiety. “I am very happy that I accompanied you. I shall be so popular.”

“Perhaps we should give Mother an extra laudanum dose that morning,” Eleanor said. And she was half-serious.

“If Astley has decided that you are worth more than the world’s opinion,” Villiers said, his voice very even, “your mother will simply have to get used to that fact. I don’t expect he will wait for a full year of mourning before marrying you.”

“He must,” Eleanor said firmly. “He’s Ada’s only close family member, since her father passed away last year.”

“He won’t.”

“Why not?” Anne put in. “My sense is that he is making sure Eleanor doesn’t end up married to you while his back is turned. But he seemed genuinely fond of his wife, in a lukewarm kind of way.”

“Astley is in the grip of passion,” Villiers said. “Yes, I will take some of that lamb now, Popper. Thank you.”

“Passion needn’t last more than a week,” Anne said with her usual cynicism.

Villiers glanced at Eleanor. “It will in this case.”

“A tiresome subject of conversation,” Eleanor said. “How are your daughters settling in, Villiers?”

But Anne wasn’t diverted. “Why do you think Astley won’t settle down and wait once he is certain that Eleanor won’t marry you?”

“Because he’s had a few years to realize what he threw away.”

Back to the immeasurable charms of the Whore of Babylon, Eleanor thought dismally.

Anne was relentless. “What exactly do you think he’s realized?”

“He thinks that there’s no reason to eat breakfast unless Eleanor is there to give him that silly wide grin of hers. He wants to have an argument with her just so he can kiss her into a good mood again. He wants to sleep with her every night, see her holding a baby with brandy-colored hair like hers.”

Eleanor’s mouth fell open.

“He wants her forever,” Villiers continued. Their eyes met and his were as cool as ever. “He can’t bear the idea that she might ever love another man. I’d bet my entire estate that he will arrive tomorrow.”

Anne sighed. “If I wasn’t so prodigiously fond of my husband, I’d probably fall in love with you just for that description, Villiers.”

Eleanor’s mind was whirling. If his face hadn’t been so impassive, so composed, she would have thought…

“Since you inquired about my daughters,” he said, turning to Eleanor, “Lisette spent several hours with them today. I expect they will be very sad when we return to London.”

“You ought to leave soon, before she tires of them,” Anne said, proving her voice could be just as emotionless as Villiers’s.

“That seems an unnecessarily unkind assessment,” Villiers said. “I believe that Lisette genuinely enjoys the girls. And she is looking forward to being their mother.”

Eleanor shot Anne her most ferocious look, the one copied from their mother. Anne twitched an eyebrow but said in a sweetly musical voice, “Of course it will all be different this time, Villiers. I quite forgot that the two of you are to be married.”