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theirs had never been a warm marriage. They were wed by arrangement, with no consideration of love, or even regard, but still it shocked her when his will placed herself and Robin so entirely under his family’s control. If she married or even formed friendships without Charles and Honoria’s approval, she would be barred from her son’s life. Charles was given the management of her fortune, to keep her from the kind of temptations a woman rich in her own right might fall prey to.
    Robert’s will insisted that his widow’s behavior must be impeccable, in keeping with the sterling reputation of the Maitland family. If there was the faintest whiff of the kind of scandalous behavior that Isobel’s mother had engaged in, Honoria would see that every respectable door in London was closed to her.
    While the opinions of society mattered little to Isobel, her son was the only good thing in her life. She could not bear to lose Robin, and so she behaved as they wished her to. Mostly.
    She looked at Robin’s bright face now, at the red hair that came from her side of the family, the smile and eyes that were all her mother’s. How it must rankle when Honoria looked at him.
    Robin prattled on about ducks, and Isobel bit her lip, thinking of what she’d risked for a few moments of pleasure in Blackwood’s arms. It must never, ever, happen again, even if she had to live the rest of her life without a man’s touch.
    The door opened without the courtesy of a knock. Isobel, with her back to the portal, watched as Nurse’s smile fled, and she knew who it was before even turning to look.
    â€œGood day, Miss Kirk,” Nurse said stiffly, confirming the intruder’s identity. Isobel’s heart sank as she turned tomeet the disapproving glare of Honoria’s paid companion.
    â€œLady Honoria and Lord Charles sent me to tell you that they are awaiting you in the dining room, Countess. You are fifteen minutes late for luncheon.”
    Jane Kirk eyed Isobel as if hoping to catch her at a greater misdeed than merely sitting on the floor of the nursery. In addition to writing Honoria’s letters and reading to her from improving books, Jane was her ladyship’s spy.
    Jane’s eyes narrowed with speculation now, and Isobel felt her skin heat, remembering she was indeed guilty this time. She wondered if there was some telltale sign that a woman had been recently bedded, and very well bedded at that. She wanted to hide, but instead she rose as gracefully as possible and returned the companion’s glare.
    â€œYou have stains on your gown, Countess,” Jane Kirk said coldly, and Isobel felt relief that jam was all she had noticed. “I shall inform Lady Honoria that there will be a further delay while you change your dress.”
    Isobel resisted the urge to smooth her gown. Jane held the door open, expecting her to obey Honoria’s summons immediately. Instead, she turned to hug Robin, who had gone quiet, his smile lost at Jane’s unwelcome intrusion.
    Isobel kissed his cheek, and whispered in his ear. “Ask Nurse to have Cook pack up all the dry bread, and I’ll meet you at the duck pond at three o’clock.”
    â€œI shall save my own bread from luncheon,” Robin whispered back.
    â€œMe too,” she replied, and he smiled.
    â€œGrowing children need their food, and ducks are dirty creatures,” said Jane with disapproval, leaning in to hear the private words between mother and son. Robin’s smile faded once more. Isobel suppressed a sharp retort. It would only get her into trouble.
    â€œI’ll see you in the park,” Isobel said, sending her son aconspirator’s grin as she left the room, ignoring Jane Kirk’s sour expression.
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    Honoria glared at Isobel as she took her seat at the table. “Luncheon is always served precisely at one o’clock, Isobel. You are more then half an hour late. It was very inconsiderate