“We have had so little time to speak, my dear,” she chided gently. She poured a cup of thick, frothy chocolate and I sipped at it, feeling the warmth of it clear through to my bones.
“I know. I have missed you as well. And you have been an angel to take on Aunt Dorcas. She is the most terrible old fright, and you are a guest. You should not have to sit with her and pretend to enjoy it.”
Hortense did not settle back into the sofa as I had. Even at sixty her posture was exquisite. She perched on the edge, her spine straight as a dancer’s. When she reached for her cup, it was like something out of a ballet.
“My dear, it is nothing. She is not such an ogre, you know. She still has some scandalous gossip, though how she manages, living in such isolation, I cannot imagine.”
“Well, you are a better woman than I.”
We fell quiet a moment, companionable in silence as we sipped at our chocolate.
“I do hope you’ve given Aquinas your receipt. This is divine,” I told her finally.
“I shall do so before I leave, I promise you. And now I know what to give you for Christmas. I’ve far too many chocolate pots and some of them are very pretty. You must choose your favourite.”
I did not insult her by protesting. Although she lived like a lady of means, in truth Hortense’s funds were rather thinly stretched. A number of her former lovers, Brisbane included, provided her with annuities, but the sums were not great, and she performed little economies from time to time, such as passing along a treasured possession rather than shopping in the costly establishments on Bond Street. As her things were invariably expensive and her taste was exquisite, I did not mind.
“He is looking well,” Hortense said softly. I wondered if thinking of Brisbane had conjured the idea of him.
“Absolutely. Pity about his shoulder, but I am sure he will be perfectly recovered soon enough.”
“I was very surprised to hear of his elevation.”
I shrugged. “It is not so uncommon. It is the Prime Minister who decides such things. If Brisbane was useful enough in diverting some scandal or righting some wrong, he would wish to show his gratitude.”
Hortense was pensive, but even in thought, she was careful not to furrow her brow. Years of strict discipline had kept her face unlined and smooth as a girl’s. I tried once to copy her. For an entire day I neither smiled nor frowned. By teatime, I had a vicious headache and resigned myself to wrinkles.
“Still, Nicholas is not so very highly born.”
“Not on his mother’s side, no. But his father is the grandson of a duke, and his great-uncle, the present duke, still has considerable influence. If he decided to press for the honours, the Prime Minister might well oblige him.”
“Perhaps. Your cup is empty,chérie.May I pour for you again?”
I held out my cup, watching her slim, elegant white hands as she poured. I had accused her once of using witchcraft to keep her beauty, and it did not seem an entirely ridiculous notion. She was lovelier at sixty than any woman of my acquaintance half her age. Even her hands bore little trace of her years. They were smooth and unblemished, as fine as the porcelain she held.
“Do you look for a ring?” she teased.
“No, of course not,” I lied, taking my cup and drinking deeply to cover my confusion. I scalded my tongue.
Hortense smiled at me in spite of herself. “I am not betrothed to your father, you know. And I never will be.”
“Hortense, I am sorry. It is none of my concern.”
She waved a hand. No jewels sparkled there, but at her wrist she wore a lovely cameo set with diamonds that seemed vaguely familiar.
“Of course it is, my dear. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to be your stepmama. But to do so, I would have to marry your father, and that is something neither of us has a mind to do.”
I set the cup into the saucer carefully. “Then you’ve spoken of it?”
She lifted a velvet-clad shoulder. “Naturellement.But I am a woman very much in love with my freedom, and Hector is a man very much in love with his wife.”
I blinked hard, and when I spoke my voice sounded thick to my own ears. “He still loves Mother?”
Hortense’s smile was patient as a Botticelli Madonna’s. “He is a very loyal man, your father. He has a great heart, and there is a tiny corner of it for me. That is enough for both of us.”
I sipped at my chocolate, feeling suddenly very relieved. “You really do not wish to marry him?”
Hortense’s eyes danced with mischief. “And have to endure his family? Absolutely not. You are all quite mad.”