Esther, my dear. I shall call you Francesca for I detest pet names.”
“Oh, Fancy ain’t a pet name. It’s my full name.”
Aunt Esther’s gaze narrowed. “How unfortunate. Nonetheless, it is considered ill-mannered to correct your elders. Mind you remember that.”
“Yes, ma’am…I mean, Aunt Esther.” Cheeks aflame, Fancy darted a glance at Knight.
He had a slight crease between his brows but said nothing.
“Now Knighton informs me that I am to guide you in the ways of Society,” the lady went on. “You, in turn, will be responsible for the management of my brother’s younger children.”
“Yes, Aunt Esther. I would be e’er so grateful for your ’elp.” Gathering up her courage, Fancy said earnestly, “I know I ain’t polished yet, but I’ll work ’ard, and I’m a quick learner.”
“A quick learner?” Cecily gave a trilling laugh. “My dear sister-in-law, do you come with references?”
Jonas snickered, and Fancy’s face heated even more.
“That is enough, Cecily.” Knight gave both his siblings a quelling look. “You’ll show Fancy the respect that is due to her.”
“I didn’t say anything wrong,” Cecily said petulantly.
“Hell, I didn’t even say anything,” Jonas drawled.
“Language, Jonas,” Aunt Esther chided. She turned to the niece beside her. “And you, Cecily, will mind your manners.”
“Why am I the one who must be reminded of my manners?” Cecily’s face reddened with remarkable speed. She waved a hand at Fancy. “She cannot even speak properly and dresses like a country bumpkin. If I have to wait for her to become fashionable so that she can bring me out into Society, then I shall be waiting forever!”
Mortification and shock at the girl’s rudeness robbed Fancy of speech.
“Cecily, I believe I told you to desist,” Knight said sharply.
“That is all you ever do, brother.” Cecily shot to her feet, her slender form vibrating with rage. “Papa never told me what to do; he wanted me to be happy. But because of you, I have been separated from my dearest Jacques and all my friends in France. My heart is broken, and it is all your fault. I hate London, and I hate you!”
She gave a sob and ran out of the drawing room.
A clock counted out the silence.
Stunned, Fancy turned to her taut-jawed husband, whispering, “Should you go after—”
“I wouldn’t bother.” The matter-of-fact statement came from Eleanor, who looked up from the book she’d been reading. “Cecily is prone to dramatics,” she said calmly. “Her mama was an actress.”
“Her mama was my mama.” Jonas tossed a fussy wave of hair out of his eyes in order to glare at his younger sister.
Eleanor’s brows rose above her spectacles. “Precisely.”
Jonas’ hands curled at his sides. “Why you uppity little bluestocking—”
“I would rather be a bluestocking than a rake.”
“No one even knows you exist, you little twerp,” Jonas retorted.
Eleanor directed a hard stare at him. “Cogito, ergo sum.”
“What in blazes does that mean?” Jonas snapped.
“I think, therefore I am.” The girl’s smile was smug. “According to Descartes’ principle, you’re the one who doesn’t exist.”
“Why you bloody know-it-all—”
“Jonas, do not attack your sister,” Aunt Esther cut in. “Eleanor, stop provoking your brother.”
“I’ve better things to do than put up with this nonsense,” Jonas declared.
He, too, exited the room.
“He doesn’t,” Eleanor said. “Have anything better to do, that is.”
Before Fancy could think of a reply, the girl buried her nose in her book again, seemingly shutting out the rest of the world.
Silence once again descended, the clock’s ticking becoming deafening. Fancy looked at Knight, who sat with stiff shoulders and a stark expression.
“Well, Knighton, didn’t I tell you this was a Sisyphean task?” Aunt Esther said coldly. “All my efforts trying to civilize these beastly children have come to naught. It is like trying to spin gold out of straw. One cannot alter the base material.”
Knight’s mouth tightened.
“Please don’t be angry, Aunt Esther.” Toby spoke for the first time, his voice high and timorous. “Would you like some cake? The cream slice is very good.”
For some reason, Aunt Esther’s features turned wary. “No, Toby. No cake for me.”
“What about for you, Your Grace?” Toby turned shyly to Fancy. “Could I get you some?”
At the boy’s eager-to-please expression, Fancy’s heart melted. “Yes, please.”
“I don’t think that’s a good—” Knight began.
Fancy hushed him, not wanting to hurt Toby’s feelings or discourage the first sign of goodwill she’d had from his family. Toby put a slice of cake on a plate and headed over to her, but his foot somehow got caught on the leg of the coffee table. He tripped, the cake flying from