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it.”
    Dilquin’s lined face suffused with relief, and his gaze went to the eight-day clock in the hall. “Of course, my lady. Fifteen minutes, precisely.”
    Vivian spared him a smile then squared her shoulders and prepared to meet her stepfather. It was easy to see—still—why her mother had fallen for the man. Even now, Thurgood was handsome—tallish, though not so tall as Darius Lindsey, say—with soulful brown eyes and blond hair going to wheat gold. He had a superficial charm he put to good advantage when consoling a new widow, and he was clever.
    Too clever to underestimate.
    “Daughter.” He took Vivian’s hands and drew her close enough that he could kiss her forehead. By sheer force of will, Vivian endured it without flinching. “You look tired, my dear. Should I be concerned?”
    Vivian had to discipline herself not to bristle visibly at his avuncular tone.
    “I got William off to Longchamps yesterday, and I’ll finish up closing the house today, then follow him myself tomorrow. Moving households is always tiring. Shall we sit?”
    He took the chair William usually favored, closest to the fire, and watched while Vivian poured.
    “You shouldn’t have to fuss over him like this,” Thurgood said. “He’s a grown man, and since when does the wife close up the house and follow? The ladies are supposed to travel at leisure while the head of the household tends to the more demanding matters.”
    “William and I are content with our arrangements.” And if Thurgood were the model, the head of the household never tended to the more demanding matters. “How is Ariadne?”
    “Your stepmama sends her love, though I couldn’t encourage her to be out in this miserable cold. I had to see for myself you were doing well since William has left your side.”
    “I’ll see him the day after tomorrow.” Vivian told the lie easily. “How is young Ellsworth?”
    “Your stepbrother would send his love as well, did he know I was calling upon you.” Such a look of regret. “But he’s a lad, and what passes for cogitation at his age doesn’t bear mention. There is something I wanted to discuss with you, something I’ve been meaning to bring up for quite a while. William is always hovering, though, and a man can hardly find a moment of privacy with his daughter.”
    The words I’m not your daughter remained firmly clamped behind Vivian’s teeth. Ariadne wasn’t her stepmother, she was merely Thurgood’s fourth or fifth wife, and Ellsworth the Waddling, Whining Wonder Child was no relation to her at all. But better to let Thurgood have his say and be done with it—for now.
    Vivian sipped her tea and presented a placid exterior. “I’m all ears, Steppapa.”
    “William is a good man,” Thurgood began, the soul of earnest concern, “but he’s going to shuffle off this mortal coil, Vivian, and you must think of what awaits you then. His parliamentary cronies and titled confreres aren’t your friends, and they’ll do nothing to look after you when William’s gone. You need to assure me now you’ll not try to manage on your own through those unhappy days. Your mother would turn over in her grave were you to live anywhere but with Ariadne and me, letting us protect and guide you in the time to come.”
    I must not toss my tea into the face of my guest. “That’s kind of you, and generous, but I couldn’t possibly make that sort of decision without consulting William, and then too, Angela and Jared might be able to use my help with the children.”
    Thurgood’s face lit with a credible rendition of indignation. “You must not consider it! That Jared Ventnor would have you as some kind of unpaid nanny for Angela’s pack of brats, and you an earl’s daughter.”
    “That pack of brats has an earl’s daughter for a mother.”
    “But you could do so much better,” Thurgood insisted. “Angela hadn’t your looks or your poise or your grasp of political affairs. For you, we could aim much