lips quirk at her enthusiasm. Leave it to Fancy to find something Toby could do without hurting himself or others.
“The boy could talk of nothing else at supper,” he commented.
“He seems more confident, don’t you think?” she asked. “I think that’s the root of ’is…his problem. If he becomes surer of himself, then maybe he’ll have less accidents.”
As he looked at his wife’s eager expression, warmth spread through his chest. How could he have doubted Fancy’s ability to manage his siblings? With her kind and loving nature, she could win anyone over.
“Maybe Toby just likes having your attention,” he said softly.
And I don’t blame the lad.
“That’s true too.” She rolled so that she lay partly atop him, her chin propped on her folded arms. “But I think he would like your attention even more.”
He threaded his fingers through her hair, enjoying the satiny texture and the privilege of touching her.
“Toby doesn’t want my attention. He’s a bundle of nerves when I’m around,” Severin said. “I’m not a soft touch like you.”
“He’s only nervous because he wants you to like him. During the visits with Bertrand, he’s told me some things about his life in France. It sounded lonely,” Fancy said, her expression troubled. “He wanted your father’s approval, I think, but the duke was never around to give it.”
“My sire was hardly a shining example of fatherhood,” he said dryly.
“Exactly. Which is why it would be nice for you to spend more time with Toby and your other siblings.”
“Me?” He stared at her.
“Yes, you.”
“I am not their father. I’m not even their full-blooded kin.”
“But you are their guardian. The only one who’s cared enough to take an interest in them.”
“It was out of necessity, not caring,” he said bluntly.
“Why didn’t you just leave them in that drafty old chateau?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You could’ve left Toby and Eleanor there with their governess, and Cecily and Jonas to their own devices. But you brought them all to London. Why?”
“Because our father made me their guardian. I was only doing my duty.”
“You could have done it from London and left them in France,” she insisted.
“I could not. They weren’t living respectably—”
“Why do you care?”
“I didn’t want them to live the way I did,” he bit out. “I didn’t want them fending for themselves and acting like damned heathens.”
He realized that his chest was heaving beneath her palms. The gentle, understanding look in her eyes made his lungs work even harder, everything in him tautening…waiting.
“Because you are a good man,” she said. “You care about them, virtual strangers, more than your father ever did about any of his children.”
He didn’t know what to say so he kept his mouth shut.
“Toby looks up to you, and a little encouragement would go a long way,” she went on. “He’s a charming fellow, much cleverer than he lets on. He volunteered to escort me to Madame Rousseau’s tomorrow for the final fitting of my dress for Bea’s wedding, and afterward we’re going to Gunter’s. Gemma said children adore the ices served there. I invited Eleanor along as well.”
“Eleanor at a dress shop?” He smiled humorlessly. “I would have a care, if I were you. She might read a treatise on the rights of workers and encourage the seamstresses to riot.”
“I doubt that since Madame Rousseau pays her seamstresses twice the going wage.”
He canted his head at her. “How would you know that?”
“Fittings take a long time; you have to chat about something,” his duchess said blithely. “I was wearing one of my old gowns, and Madame—her name is Amelie, by the way—commented on the fine workmanship. I told her I made it myself and that I’d done piecework from time to time. That led to a conversation about the trade in London, and Amelie told me that since she’d worked her way up as a seamstress, she knew ’ow…how hard the work was and how little it paid. So she pays her own apprentices better and… Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Because I’m sure that while Madame is privy to plenty of gossip, this was undoubtedly the first time a duchess confessed to working as a seamstress,” he said.
“Oh.” Fancy bit her lip. “Was it wrong of me to tell her? She seemed so nice…and Aunt Esther says Amelie’s discretion is even more famous than her dressmaking.”
“Tell her whatever you want, sweeting.” He brushed his knuckles against the curve of her cheek. “I find your candor charming.”
A notch formed between her brows. “I wasn’t trying