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“There you are!” He whirled to face her. “I thought for certain I had the wrong place. Until I saw this.” He swept his hand to indicate her drawing. “It’s a pattern for embroidery, is it not?”

“It is, indeed.” She coughed. “How could you tell?”

“Well, the cross-hatching, for one thing. You forget that my mother and sister always had patterns lying about the house. And I remember how keen you were on needlework.”

“You do?” she said, incredulous.

He shrugged. “I wasn’t entirely an oblivious older brother, you know. I almost never saw you without your head bent over your tambour.” He gestured to her design. “But why draw the pattern on the wall?”

“Because paper is—” Maman began.

“—not big enough for me,” Eve broke in before her stepmother could say costly. “I like my designs writ large.” She coughed again. “Then I can gaze at them out the window as I work and tell where every stitch must land.”

“Don’t the owners of the dyeworks mind?”

“No, they’re very kind, since we rent from them. Besides, I always wash it off when I’m done.” And the workers gave her the bits of charcoal and dye powder she used to make the designs.

Her stepmother nudged her.

“Mr. Davenant, may I present my stepmother, Lady Violette Archer?”

“I’m honored to meet you, Lady Archer,” he said with a courteous nod. “I was very sorry to hear from Miss Archer of your husband’s demise.”

“Thank you, sir,” Maman said.

“In fact,” he went on, “my mother was always so fond of your stepdaughter that she has asked me to invite the three of you to dinner tomorrow night.”

“That is very kind of her,” Maman said, clearly surprised. “We would be delighted to accept.”

“Maman,” Eve said in a low voice, “we don’t have clothes fine enough to dine with the viscountess and her husband.” And what if Eve had forgotten how to navigate a proper table setting and how to behave as a gently bred lady in company?

“It will be quite informal, Miss Archer,” Mr. Davenant put in. “She has known you for years and would be disappointed if you couldn’t join us.”

Eve would love to see Lady Cokesbury again. The viscountess had treated Eve like a daughter at a time when Eve had lacked a mother. Indeed, it had been she who taught Eve all those manners in the first place. “Very well. If you’re quite sure she and your father won’t take offense when we arrive dressed less impressively than they’re used to.”

“She could never take offense at seeing a friend, no matter how informally that friend is attired.” He looked suddenly uncomfortable. “But … um … there’s something I should have told you yesterday. My father won’t be joining us for dinner. He passed away about a year before Natalie fell ill.”

Her emotions bounced all over the place. First, she was sad for Mr. Davenant, then astonished he hadn’t told her right away, and then … Oh, good Lord. If his father was dead, Mr. Davenant was the viscount now. She’d been treating him like the mere heir. Could this get any worse?

She blinked at him, then turned to her stepmother. “I’m sorry, Maman, but I didn’t introduce the gentleman properly. This is Noel Davenant, the Viscount Cokesbury.” She coughed a moment. “Forgive me, Lord Cokesbury, but I didn’t know that you … that your father—”

“Please,” he said hastily, “I’m the one who should ask forgiveness. I was enjoying our conversation so much yesterday that I forgot to mention it.”

She sensed there was more to it but didn’t wish to discuss it in front of Maman.

“And speaking of that,” he went on, “I looked into your Mr. Washburn. From what I could learn, he doesn’t have a good reputation. With your and your stepmother’s permission,” he said, pausing to smile at Maman, “I’d like to have my own attorney research your situation.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Maman said stiffly, “but we cannot afford that. Besides, if my late husband’s brother were to hear of it—”

“My attorney is quite discreet,” he assured her. “As for the money, I pay him a yearly retaining fee, which he earns whether or not he does a thing for me.” He flashed Maman one of his brilliant smiles. “So, it won’t cost me any more than I’ve already paid. I will tell him only to do what is covered by the retainer, all right?”

“Oh,” Maman said with a questioning look at Eve. “I do not understand this word retainer. I thought it meant someone who was beholden to a lord.”

Eve had never heard of a retaining fee, but that didn’t mean much. Doubtless it was something only rich people did, and it had been a long time since her family had been considered rich. “I think the viscount is saying that his attorney is beholden to him … precisely because His Lordship gives the man a yearly fee.”

Lord Cokesbury smiled. “Very good, Miss Archer.”

Eve warmed beneath the sunshine of his smile.