“I gather you dislike her.”
“Oh no, I might be very aware of her faults, but I’m very fond of the old tartar.”
She frowned. “But you said that of—”
“My grandmother, yes. Oh that’s right, you know her, don’t you? You painted that brilliant portrait of her after all.So, do you think I’ve described her sufficiently well?” He gave her an innocent look.
Zoë clenched her fists. How dare he play such games with her? His grandmother indeed! “She can hardly be your wife, though, can she?”
He placed a finger on his cheek and pretended to ponder the question.
She itched to smack him.
“I don’t think I ever said I was married to her.”
“You did. You said you had three wives!”
“And I do. Please be patient while I explain.”
Oh, he was infuriating. “Very well, what of the other two?”
“The second wife is my brother’s widow.”
“Widow?”
“Yes, I told you that my brother died. Do try to keep up, Vita.”
She glared at him and he chuckled. “You look very sweet when you’re cross.”
“How can your brother’s widow be classed as a wife?”
“Oh, Celia’s definitely a wife—or was. Or are you suggesting my two nieces are illegitimate? I assure you, there was definitely a wedding at least a year before Sukey, the first one, was born. Or was Ella the firstborn? I get them mixed up. Very dreary girls, just like their mother. Celia’s now the dowager Lady Foxton, a title that doesn’t please her at all. Dowager, such an aging word, don’t you think?”
Zoë gritted her teeth. “And the third?”
“Ah yes, the youngest one—my sister, Dorothea, who just gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, which delighted not only her but also my brother-in-law, who already had two sons to carry on the family name.”
Zoë took several deep, long breaths, then said in as calm a voice as she could manage, “So the truth is, you have no wives at all.”
He gave her a mock-puzzled look. “But no, Vita mydear, as I just explained, I have three.” He gave her a faintly triumphant smile.
“Ooh, you! You’re impossible!” She shook a fist at him.
He laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “No, no, don’t hit me, I’ll explain.”
“You’d better.”
“I think, if you think back, I told you I had three wives. I did not say that I was married. I let you jump to that conclusion. And quite entertaining it was, too, as well as convenient.”
“You thought I was fishing for information?”
His brow rose in amused challenge. “Weren’t you?”
“I was making conversation,” she said with dignity.
“Yes, so was I,” he said affably. “But before you burst into flames, I will explain. Grandmama, Celia and Dorothea are wives, the responsibility for whom I have somehow inherited. You know about Grandmama, but what I didn’t explain, and what she doesn’t realize, is that her fortune has dwindled to a bare competence. She lives in my houses—my town house in Mayfair and my country seat, though I am having the dower house renovated and she will move into it when I marry. I’m sure that will please you. It won’t please her, of course, but we’ll deal with that when it happens.”
“Why should I be interested?” she said airily.
