Theodora blinked, then blushed. “Oh,” she said.
He didn't, of course. He'd always been careful. But he probably should have resisted the urge to tease her. The dear girl was never one for jokes. He used to think her beyond adorable when she'd earnestly try to puzzle them out. But then he'd been all of fifteen.
“Forgive me, that was flippant of me,” he said. “You are right, I should have children. I would dearly love a few.”
“But how?” asked Masha. “Mama said you are to be divorced. How can you have children when you are not married?”
“Masha!” Theodora said sharply, her color heightening further.
“It's all right,” said Camden. He turned to Masha, who had her father's sad eyes and long nose. But beneath the face of a lugubrious Russian Madonna lurked a spirit as rambunctious as a dozen sailors on shore leave. “My dear Maria Alekseeva, you are a very shrewd young lady. Indeed, that is my dilemma. What do you propose I do?”
“You must marry someone else,” said Masha decisively.
“But who would marry me, Mashenka? I'm so old, as old as dirt.”
Masha giggled and lowered her voice. “But Mama is even older than you. Does that mean she's older than dirt?”
Camden whispered, “Yes, it does. But don't tell her.”
“What are you whispering about?” said Theodora, a little put out.
“I was just telling Uncle Camden that he should marry you, Mama,” Masha answered cheerfully. “Then you'd be too busy to lecture me.”
Before Theodora could recover from her astonishment enough to say anything, Sasha cried from the aft deck of the schooner, “Masha, come here! I've got something tremendous.”
Masha promptly dashed off to help her brother reel in his big catch.
“Oh, that girl,” muttered Theodora. “She is going to be my despair.”
“I wouldn't worry about her,” said Camden. “She will fend for herself just fine.”
Theodora said nothing. She closed her parasol, held it with both hands before her abdomen, then set its tip down on the deck. Her index finger traced what seemed to be random patterns on the parasol handle. But he knew she was unconsciously writing down her thoughts. Gott. Gott. Gott.
She was embarrassed and discomfited. In this she hadn't changed much. Camden helped himself to another cookie.
“I hope you don't think that I came to New York because . . . because you are about to be a free man.”
“You didn't?” He'd never alluded to his marital woes. But Theodora was quite aware of them, judging by what Masha had said.
Theodora twisted her hands together, mortified. She was not accustomed to such directness from him. Mutely, she gazed at him, her enormous blue eyes beseeching him to assess the situation, infer what she wanted, and offer it to her without her ever having to speak a word—what he'd always done before.
He sighed. She'd come at a wretched time, when he desperately wanted to be either alone at sea or alone in his workshop. He hadn't the heart to disappoint the children, so he'd spent the past three weeks showing them a good time in the city. But he had no wherewithal left to play guessing games with her. If she wanted something from him—and she did, something— then she could damned well come out and say it.
“Will you really divorce Lady Tremaine?” she asked timidly.
“She is the one who wants a divorce, therefore we are headed for a divorce,” he said, more surly than he'd intended. A letter had arrived from Addleshaw this morning, assuring him that the engagement ring he had requested from Gigi would arrive forthwith.
He didn't want the damned ring. Wasn't it enough that he had to look at the cursed piano? He wanted her to come with the ring. But his ploy had failed. She would marry Lord Frederick. And he, what would he do?
“You will need another wife, won't you?” Theodora's voice had dropped so low that he barely heard the last few syllables.
He didn't need another wife. He wanted the one he already had. “That is a question for the future.”
Gott hilf mir, her finger scribbled. Well, God help them all.
The children screamed in delight, breaking the uneasy silence. “Look what we got! Look what we got!” hollered Sasha, running toward them with a striped bass that looked to be at least a five-pounder.
“Look at that!” exclaimed Camden, standing up. “I never caught anything half so big when I was your age.”
He unhooked the vigorously thrashing fish and tossed it into a bucket of water. “Want to have it served with a lemon butter sauce for supper?”
“Yes!” the boy answered unambiguously.
“Right ho!” Camden lifted Sasha high in the air and spun him around.
“Me, me too! I helped,” said Masha, raising her arms up to Camden.