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“Before I started spending time with Mrs. Gordon.” His voice was firm, but his heart twinged with regret.

Tatiana shook her head, her silver-blonde curls bouncing with the motion. “No. That is not true. You spent time with Mrs. Gordon playing ninepins. Then we all went to the grotto, and you called her Jane several times. Jane is family, and she invited us to call her … Jane.”

Barclay’s frown deepened as he gazed down at his daughter from his not inconsiderable height. But Tatiana, resolute as a tiny warrior, folded her arms and glowered right back up at him, her eyes blazing with fierce determination. If he did not feel so deeply conflicted, he might have even been proud of her audacity. She would go far in life if she maintained that inner fire.

But not on this subject. Barclay exhaled slowly and reached out to clasp her small arm gently. “Come, Tatiana.”

He guided her down the hall toward Aurora’s chambers. They needed privacy for this conversation—somewhere quiet where the walls did not have ears and there would be no interruption. Tatiana walked beside him, stiff with defiance, her little feet almost stomping with each step.

When they reached Aurora’s room, Barclay closed the door behind them and turned to face his daughter. Kneeling so they were at eye level, he spoke gently but firmly. “Tatiana, it is not proper to impose on Jane. She has her own life to live, her own path to follow, and you must allow her to do so.”

“Jane enjoys spending time with me. She told me so. It is your fault that there is trouble, and I refuse to turn my back on her.”

Barclay walked away, raking his hands through his long hair, to stand by the window while he tried to think how to explain this to his child. Good grief, when had he last had his hair trimmed? Tatiana was not wrong about his need for a wife, it would seem.

“It is not possible for me to court Jane, and it would be inappropriate to spend time in her company, little one.”

“Why? She is family. Her sister is married to your brother, Uncle Perry. If I want to spend time with her, I can.”

“Tatiana, perhaps in the future. But not now. We must allow Jane her time. She is seeking a husband, and she needs to be allowed to do so.”

His daughter growled at him, causing Barclay to blink. It sounded more like a mewling because she was such a little girl, but it was unprecedented. He spun back to face her, discovering that her face had turned red with anger.

“You are a selfish man! Jane was to be my new mother! Mama would have approved. Now you are ruining it! Not only that, now you are trying to ruin my time with her!”

Barclay shook his head. “There are things—adult matters—which you do not understand. I am doing this for you. And your grandmama, and I need you to trust me.”

“Why? I see what Jane did, but you will not listen. You changed. You were smiling and happy like you were when Mama was still here. Now you are back to your sadness. I am worried about you, but you will not listen to me. I know Jane is the one!”

Barclay hung his head, too ashamed to look at her while he tried to find the words to explain once more. “It is not right, Tatiana. Jane could marry anyone. She is the sister-in-law to an earl, from a good family, and there will be problems for her if she were to marry me.”

“We are a good family! We look after each other. We spend time together. We try to make each other happy. That is what Jane would do if she were part of our family.”

Barclay drew a deep breath. Usually, he was so talented with negotiations, but there was something complicated about dealing with one’s own child. He knew he was trying to do what was best for her, and for Jane, but how did he tell Tatiana without ruining her childhood? She did not need to know about the troubles surrounding his parentage. The troubles she would deal with in the future. Nay, that must wait until she was much older. It was his duty to protect her innocence and allow her this time of ignorance for as long as he possibly could.

“You must give Mrs. Gordon a chance, little one.”

“She does not like children!”

“How do you know that?”

“I … just know. I can tell. Ethan agrees with me.”

Barclay shook his head. He did not know why Tatiana was convinced the widow did not like children. There had been no evidence of that. “Ethan is four years old and not an expert on women. She is very pleasant, and she can teach you many things.”

“Like what?”

He was not prepared for the question. Lud, he was quickly learning during this house party that his daughter might look like her mother, but she had inherited all the stubborn traits of the Thompson family. Tsar was going to howl with mirth about all of this when they returned to London in a week or so.

Barclay would laugh himself if this was not so terribly disheartening. Perhaps that was a good sign. A sign that his mourning truly was over if he even considered laughing. He could not recall when he had last laughed about anything—not truly, without forcing it politely—but since arriving at this house party, it seemed he had recovered his sense of humor.

“She can teach you to behave like a proper young lady.”

“Jane can teach me that.”

“Yes, but …”

“But what?”