A Certain Want of Reason by Kate Dolan Page B

“Allen has been ordered to offer him watered spirits only.”
    “Good.” Lucia exhaled as she looked into the fire. “I could use some watered spirits myself.”
    “Without the water,” Eugenie agreed. She paused for a moment. “I had no idea about Helen. She appeared the perfect angel at dinner.”
    “Well, that’s because she did not say anything during dinner. She didn’t actually eat anything, either, but she usually will not on the first night in a strange place.”
    “Do I want to know why?”
    Lucia grinned. “In case the food’s poisoned, I believe. Geoffrey has offered to serve as official taster at past dinners.”
    Eugenie began to laugh.
    “Fortunately,” Lucia continued, fighting to keep her own laughter in check, “he did not repeat that performance again tonight. The other diners find it rather disconcerting to have him insist on taking a bite of all their food. And it slows down the meal considerably.”
    “Yes, I imagine it does!” Eugenie burst into a new fit of laughter, then took a deep breath in an obvious effort to resume the conversation. “But Geoffrey, too, gave no sign of trouble at dinner.”
    “Other than asking whether Mr. Smith would be joining us.”
    “Who?”
    “Your coachman.”
    “Oh.” Eugenie looked lost for a moment. “But as I said, the dinner went quite well. I really do think you should take the twins out in society more.”
    “Well,” Lucia looked down her nose at Eugenie in jest, “that is where our opinions differ.”
    Eugenie made a face. “I do think your stepfather would agree with me, though.”
    Lucia sighed. “If he did, do you not think he would take them out himself?”
    “I thought he was too ill.”
    “Hmm.” Lucia tapped her cheek with her finger. “I should not speak unfavorably of my stepfather, but I must confess that I really do not believe there is anything wrong with the man’s health. He seems as fit as you or I.”
    “Then why does he live like a hermit in Bath? I thought he was ordered to take the waters every day.”
    “Oh, I am sure some doctor has ordered him to do just that.” Lucia smiled. “But I could get a doctor to order the same prescription for you, my dear, if I paid him enough.”
    “That is terrible, then.” Eugenie leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Is he keeping all of your money down there?”
    “No, not at all. He has placed the money in trust for the twins and myself, and we receive ample allowance.” Lucia picked at a loose thread hanging from the cushion on her chair. She was so grateful for that allowance, for the continuous supply of money ensured that she would not have to seek a husband for support. She would never find a man able to understand and tolerate the twins, let alone love them the way that she did. Even their own stepfather seemed not to care for them. When she thought of men or marriage, she always pictured herself protecting the twins from a dark, menacing male form. The husband she ought never to take.
    But for some reason, she now thought of Lord Rutherford, remembering the moment he handed her reticule to her. A gesture of kindness, and not menacing at all. There, now, was a man who would understand Geoffrey and Helen.
    And it was indeed frightening that she would find such a man attractive. He was just as detached from reason as they.
    “I think you should talk to him about it.”
    “What? Who?” For a moment, Lucia had forgotten she was still in Eugenie’s room. Was it obvious that she was thinking of Lord Rutherford?
    “Your stepfather.”
    “Oh.” It took her a moment to turn her consideration from a gentleman handsome and young to one prone to baldness, age spots and melancholy. She sighed. “I do wish my stepfather would come to see us, or ask us to visit on occasion. But he seems rather anxious to avoid our company altogether.”
    “Well, perhaps you should surprise him with a visit without waiting for an invitation. Perhaps the waters might prove beneficial