Chapter 7

“Eira Gwyn was more beautiful.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Spoken like a loving papa.” Tommy closed his newspaper and let it drop to the carpet beside him. “Who do you think we could get to take her to Paris?”

“Mrs. Atkinson?” Roddy asked, looking as innocent as he could. “I understand she’s taking her granddaughter there to purchase some new frocks.”

Tommy growled. Mrs. Atkinson was a near-neighbor of Tommy’s mother and Roddy had no trouble remembering the squire’s feather-brained wife from a disastrous dinner party years before.

“We’ve always given Shani everything she could want.”

That was true. Puppies, kittens, ponies, an excellent education. She’d even asked for a brother once, but of course that was the one thing they couldn’t give her. She did have plenty of cousins, though.