Worst of all, she has no future prospects for her life except more drudgery.â
Anthony frowned, displeased by the accusatory note in his sisterâs voice, as if Miss Wadeâs so-called drudgery were his fault. âThe work Miss Wade does for me is crucial to the success of this project, and she is paid quite well for her efforts.â
âHer future seems precarious to me.â
âHardly. The museum in London will be open in mid-March, but it will take far longer than that to finish the villa. She has employment here for the next five years, at least.â
âAnd after that is finished? When your museum is complete and your excavation is done, what happens to her then?â
âShe finds a new position, I suppose.â
âBy which time she will be nearly thirty, an age which virtually eliminates her chances of ever marrying. Did you know she is the granddaughter of a baron?â
âThat is absurd. Her father had no such relations.â
âI am talking of her motherâs father. She knows no other details about him, or if she does, she did not wish to impart them to me. I do not believe she intended to tell me anything at all, but that bit about her grandfather slipped out. Why she should wish to keep it a secret, I do not understand. Pride, perhaps.â
âOr a need for privacy. Some people do valuetheir privacy, Viola,â he pointed out. âIn any case, her future is her own affair.â
âI am making it my affair.â Before he could reply, she went on, âThis is no sort of life for a baronâs granddaughter, even if she has been left in virtual ignorance of her own background. Since she knows so little of her relations and she has no friends to help herââ
âShe seems to have found a friend in you.â
âYes, she has. I like her, and we have become friends. In fact, I am envisioning her as a sort of protégée. I should like to introduce her into society, help her make new acquaintances, and perhaps even secure her matrimonial future. I know quite a few young men to whom I should like to introduce her. She might take a fancy to one of them, and nature will take its course.â
âPoor girl.â
Viola shot him a look that told him she did not find his dry comment amusing. âNot everyone chooses a wife as you do, Anthony, picking the one least likely to win your heart. Nor does everyone who falls in love end up unhappy. I should like to see Daphne have a season in London, have a romance of her own, and make a sensible and affectionate marriage to an honorable gentleman of good character who will love her and provide for her.â
He felt compelled to mention the obvious. âI do not see why you wish to embark upon such a futile exercise. Women like Miss Wade are not made for romance, and they do not marry.â
âAnthony, what an extraordinary remark. What on earth can you mean by it?â
âI mean, the girl hasnât a romantic bone in her body. If she had a dowry, or if her connection to this baron were established, her prospects for matrimony would be better, but without them, you are embarking on a hopeless business. One only has to look at the girl to know that.â
âI do not know it, and I have looked at her quite a bit in the last day or two. I should imagine any number of well-bred young men would find her quite charming.â
âCharming? With that horrible bun she wears and those dreary clothes, the girlâs as noticeable as a stick insect on a twig. She is so much a part of the background, I doubt any man would even see her unless she were standing a foot in front of him, and even then, he would forget her the moment she was out of his line of vision. I know I do.â
Viola stiffened. âI did not realize that a womanâs physical beauty was the only quality that made her worthy of a manâs attention,â she said coldly.
Anthony felt the sting in those