“Oh, yes, I wanted them, and so did Logan. And we had an agreement; if ever I found myself with child, we’d get married and go and live in America. Sadly it never happened.”

“Why America?”

“Darling girl, we could never live comfortably in England as a married couple. My people would never accept Logan—could you imagine your aunt Agatha sitting down to dinner with him?”

George tried to imagine it, and wrinkled her nose. “Not unless it was to eat him alive.”

Aunt Dottie laughed. “I can’t imagine who would be more uncomfortable—Aggie or Logan, or the others sharing the table. And his folk would never be comfortable with me. Logan couldn’t bear the thought of my losing all my friends and the society I was used to, and he had no interest in mixing with them anyway. He knew that in America it would be difficult, but possible—things don’t seem so rigid over there, and nobody would know who we were, anyway.” She spread her hands. “But I never did conceive a child and so the question never arose. And we’ve lived a very happy life together without the outside world gossiping about us and judging us.”

“Really, nobody knows?” George could hardly believe it.

Aunt Dottie gave a mischievous giggle. “A few people might suspect—your uncle Cal has given me a few dark looks when I forget myself and call Logan ‘dear,’ but I doubt he has any real notion of the true state of affairs. Our servants live out for the most part, and those few who don’t—well, whatever they know or suspect, they’ve all been wonderfully loyal and discreet. So you see, my love, it’s been a most delicious secret.”

“And that’s why it doesn’t bother you when Aunt Agatha calls you a failed spinster?”

Aunt Dottie laughed. “Exactly. Every time she says it, I have a secret little chuckle to myself.” Her soft face sobered. “Poor Aggie, she’s been married three times but has never really been loved. It’s natural that she gets a little bitter at times. But she means well, and will do anything to support the family.”

“As long as it’s what she wants,” George said darkly.

“Yes, Aggie usually gets her way in the end.” Aunt Dottie leaned forward and hugged George. “But not always, my love. Not always.” She dusted crumbs off her fingers. “Now, I must go back upstairs. Are you clear about this ‘season’ business?”

“You’re sure it won’t go away?”

“Oh, it might, of course. With some people the heat of desire fades after a short time. The honeymoon period, they call it.”

“Oh.” George brightened.