“Interesting. I cannot help but think about the biblical Eve. Look what she did to poor Adam. She even got him evicted from Paradise because of her wicked ways, which probably began with a wicked smile. As I recall, she never wore a stitch of clothing, even after the eviction. She loved the way he looked at her, loved to watch his eyes cross, which I don’t doubt they did.” “I know nothing about that. That is, I know, but your mind is wandering into paths that should be completely untrodden.”
He gave her a grin. “I’ve never found a path I didn’t want to tread.” He paused, then said in a philosophical voice, “I’ve often wondered where paradise is located. I can’t believe it was anywhere close to the English coast. Surely there would be no moans or rattling old castle walls in paradise, no storms to chill the naked flesh, just warmth and beauty. No, that’s ridiculous. Of course there would be moans. I wonder what your poor husband would say about your lack of knowledge about paradise.”
Her husband. Her poor late, lamented husband. She dropped the toast from her fingers onto the tablecloth. She couldn’t think of anything to say.
Bless him, he completely misunderstood. “I’m sorry, Evangeline. I didn’t mean to recall memories to wound you.”
Her voice was hard as a stone. “I already told you that my husband, André, was a great man, a sensitive man. I adored him. I worshiped him. He taught me everything I needed to know about this paradise of yours.”
“I don’t recall yesterday that he had quite achieved such a pinnacle of perfection. No, I’m sorry. Let’s leave dear Andrei to his eternal peace.” She was pale. He’d done it again. “Now, Evangeline, if you’ve eaten enough to fill one leg, I’ll take you to meet Edmund. He was hoping our visitor was Phillip Mercerault, a friend of mine who always brings him presents and takes him up with him on his horse, or Rohan Carrington, another longtime friend of mine who has constant winners in the cat races held at the McCulty racetrack near Eastbourne. He tells Edmund endless tales of the cat contestants and the various training methods. Rohan is the owner of the renowned champion Gilly.
“Poor Phillip, he’s always wanted a racing kitten to train. Perhaps now that he’s married, the Harker brothers—the premier trainers in the area—will deem him worthy to have one. The cat races run from April to October. Have you ever before been to a cat race?”
“No, but I’ve heard of them. Have you ever had a racing cat?”
He shook his head. “Perhaps someday. Like my friend Phillip, the Harker brothers haven’t yet deemed me worthy. I am too flighty, they’d say, and a racing cat must have a firm, steady hand and an owner who is always there for him. Now, let’s go see my son.”
Chapter 10
Lord Edmund was having his face and hands washed by a smiling Ellen, who was alternately kissing him and scrubbing him. He hadn’t yet reached the age, the duke knew, when he would react with appalled outrage at such blatant displays of affection, particularly from a female.
When Edmund saw his father, he yelled, dashed to him, and as was his habit, leaped upward, to be caught and hugged and tossed into the air, all accompanied with gales of laughter that warmed the duke to his bones.
“Well, my boy, you’ve nearly got all the egg off your mouth. Good morning, Ellen. Has he eaten all his breakfast?”
“He’s done very well, your grace,” Ellen said, staying back where she was, as was her wont, and quickly curtsied in his general direction.
“Where’s my cousin, Papa? Did she bring me a present? You won’t let her pet me, will you?” He broke off as he stretched his head over his father’s shoulder. He said in a loud, worried whisper, “Is that the lady who’s come to visit me?” The duke said, laughter lurking in his voice, “Does she have hair the color of honey? Brown eyes nearly the color of mud? Is she nearly as tall as I am?”
“Yes, Papa. She’s big. I’m not sure about the mud in her eyes, though.”
“I wanted to come alone first, to prepare you, but she must have followed me here.” The duke held Edmund loosely and turned to face her.
“Evangeline, this is my son, Edmund. Edmund, say hello to your cousin.”
Edmund studied her closely. “I don’t think your eyes look exactly like mud. Let me down, Papa, so that I may make a proper bow.”
The duke’s eyebrows shot up even as he lowered his son to the floor. Edmund gave her a grand bow, showing a perfect leg, so his grandmother would say, and said, “Welcome, Cousin Evalin. Ellen said Mrs. Raleigh told her that you’re half foreign. From France, she said.”
“Yes,” she said, “I’m half foreign,” and came down on her knees next to him. “Welcome to my home. This is Chesleigh.” “I know, and thank you.”
“That was creditably done, Edmund. I am pleased.” The duke turned to Ellen. “You did well.”
Ellen, who could never look at the duke without a flush on her face, said, “Lord Edmund insisted that we practice, your grace. His honor depended upon it, he said.”
“And so it does. Edmund, why don’t you call your cousin Eve? It’s much easier than all the other renditions of her half foreign name. Is that all right with you, Madame?”
“Certainly. I was your mama’s first cousin, Edmund. I’ve always wanted to meet you, her son.” Edmund placed his fingertips on her palm. “Do you look much like my mama? I don’t remember her very well.”
“Not really. Your mama was a beautiful lady, like an angel, all soft and white with gold hair and eyes the color of a summer sky. Except for your dark coloring, you have somewhat the look of her.” She quickly saw that this did not find favor with Lord Edmund, and added, “But you know, Edmund, I think you will be a great, handsome man like your father. You have his dark hair and a wicked twinkle in your eyes. And a good laugh, Edmund. That’s very important, being able to laugh well. Having heard your papa shout out with la
ughter, I know you’ll grow into it very well indeed.”
“That’s what I want,” Edmund said. “Was Mama short? I have no wish to be short when I grow up.”
“Yes, but don’t forget she was a lady, a fairy princess. Fairy princesses are always small and light and ever so graceful and beautiful. As for you, you’re the son of a prince, and they’re never small or light. Yes, you’ll be just like your papa. You have no reason to worry. Look at your feet, Edmund. You have huge feet. Your body will have to grow just to keep up. And you have long fingers, not the least bit stubby. Ah, yes, I see a giant of a man in the making. You might perhaps even surpass your papa. He’s not all that tall, after all, not all that splendid, not all that impressive, actually.”
The duke said to no one in particular, “I always thought that it was dogs who had to grow into their paws.”