Page 25 of A Lady's Touch of Sin

“I’m sure she’s spent the majority of the day flocking from one friend to the next to brag about the many invitations you received,” Tatiana said with a sneaky smile.

“She’s taken to your courting like a moth to the flame,” Ewan agreed. “It seems she’s completely forgotten about her only son, a single man.”

“A single man who yearns only for that sort of freedom,” Tatiana said, tapping the edge of her nose with a finger.

As they sat, they could again hear the screams of Tatiana’s children, who played wildly at the edge of the woods with Laura. Tatiana clucked her tongue and whispered, “I dare say, your girl has quite a stellar way with children.”

“Only with yours,” Marta admitted.

“Perhaps I should take her away from you. Hire her as my governess,” Tatiana said mischievously.

“I cannot allow it,” Marta said with a laugh. “She’s the only person for miles around who can speak to me in German. My tongue might grow lazy otherwise.”

“Ha! You must teach us something,” Ewan said. “Perhaps we can find a meeting place. A bit of German here; a bit of English there.”

Marta paused and scrunched her face. She couldn’t imagine her cousins’ upright, uptight voices falling into the formidable syllables of her German. Luckily, just as the silence stretched strangely between them, Malcolm appeared in the garden with a bloody gash across his lower leg. Walter and Laura burst into the garden immediately after him. Large tears crept down Malcolm’s cheeks.

Laura stuttered, “I’m terribly sorry, meine Frau! Oh, mein Gott!”

Tatiana let out a staggered laugh. “It’s not your fault, Laura. Really. When you have two little boys, you have a bit of blood every single day. Don’t worry yourself.”

Marta chuckled. “What do you think of having children now, Laura?”

But it seemed that Laura had already taken with them, so much so that she wouldn’t consider abandonment. She led Malcolm into the house, muttering to him in German, words that Malcolm surely couldn’t yet understand, but words that, in their very nature, would have made any child feel comforted and loved.

“She’s terribly good,” Ewan said, just after she disappeared.

“It’s a bit the way I was when she came with me from Austria,” Marta said. “Limping along like a little lost animal.”

“I wish I had a Laura,” Ewan said. “I’m a bit like a lost lamb, myself.”

Tatiana lifted a shortbread piece into the air and studied it. In the wake of having children, she’d successfully whittled herself back down to a girlish figure, yet seemed to contemplate any and all food choices for their worth.

“When is the first party, then, Marta?” Tatiana asked. “Mother has said that it’s possible that you could double-book yourself by accident. This, I must tell you, could kill my mother. It would be the most colossal mistake. She would grovel apologetically for the next months to whoever it was she perceived to have wronged.”

“I believe it’s Saturday. Correct me if I’m wrong, Ewan?” Marta said.

“I believe so, Marta. At the home of dear Baxter Peterson.”

“These names. They’re entirely English to my ears,” Marta said brightly. “Almost as though they’re taken directly from the pages of an English storybook.”

“Ah! And what do you think our ears assume of the name Marta Schnitzler?” Ewan laughed. “A more ridiculous name…”

“Shush, Ewan. Marta is an Austrian girl. Her difference is part of her appeal,” Tatiana affirmed.

Tatiana dismissed herself moments later to attend to her children. “I hope only that Laura hasn’t fallen to the floor in defeat.”

In her wake, Ewan and Marta studied one another. In Marta’s perception, Ewan had regarded her a bit strangely since the party. It was as though he couldn’t fully deduce what she might do next. He swallowed and flashed a playful smile once more, one that seemed almost to dare her. Marta felt entirely unclear on what, exactly, this dare was meant to be.

“The belle of the ball,” Ewan said, his voice crafting a sing-song.

Marta arched her brow. “I spotted you in conversation with a few lucky women throughout the evening, didn’t I?”

Ewan gave a light shrug. He seemed almost flippant. “Just a bit of banter between friends.”

“Haven’t you any sort of interest in them?”

Ewan’s eyes sparkled. It seemed almost dangerous, asking such a question. “Let’s say that the women I encountered at our party didn’t capture my attention,” he said.

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