Eleanor dabbed the last of her tears as Matt leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I knew you were clever girls. You have made me and the other fathers very happy.”

“That is what Aunt Eleanor said.”

Theo swallowed a piece of toast. “Enjoy it while you can.”

“It will not last,” Mary opined.

“I don’t understand,” Gideon said. “Why is she sad?”

“You are too young to remember, but when one has a Season a lady marries, and then she has to move away and live in a different house,” Mary explained. “Just like Charlotte, Louisa, Henrietta, and Dotty did.”

Gideon’s face puckered. “But I don’t want them to move away. Papa, you must take us all home right now.”

Matt dragged a hand down his face. “Can we please eat our breakfast and have this conversation later?”

Theo whispered something to a footman and rose. “Come along, Gideon. I will explain it to you. It is not as bad as you think it is.”

She took him by the hand and left the room. A footman followed them with their breakfast plates.

“I am sorry.” Eleanor placed the handkerchief on the table and picked up her cup of tea. Charlie was right. They had been planning for this for years, but she had just realized what it really meant.

“It is fine.” Grace’s gentle voice soothed Eleanor. “This was bound to happen sooner or later. You have been here his whole life.”

“Better he gets it out now than at the wedding,” Mary opined. “The hardest was seeing Charlotte get married and go away. Then I realized I just would not see her as much, but she was still my sister. And we all really like Con.”

Eleanor had to agree with Mary. All their sisters had married good men. And she would too. Now that there was a scheme in place, she would know soon if that gentleman was Montagu or not.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“She thinks I’m an idiot.”

“Did you say something, sir?” Pickerell asked from the dressing room.

“Er, no.” John went back to tying his cravat. That was the only thing it could be. At least he thought it was the only thing it could be. No. He was right. It had been in her eyes. But what in the hell had he done to give her that impression? He needed to talk with someone, but who? His valet helped him into his jacket. It had to be someone who had had problems with his future wife.

Pickerell handed John his gloves. Although from what he’d heard, that was practically every gentleman he knew, with the sole exception of his brother-in-law.

Lucky man.