Eugenia insisted Helena get out of bed. Lying in that darkened room would be good neither for her spirits nor her waistline. Helena pouted—an expression more suited to a twenty-year-old rather than a forty-year-old woman—not that Eugenia would mention another lady’s age—but agreed.
“I’ll meet you in the Egyptian salon,” Helena said sulkily.
“Very well. But I’m going to the nursery first, to see your son.” At one point she could have sailed out of Helena’s bedchamber, but that day all she could manage was the waddle, and so she waddled and ignored Helena’s objections. A passing maid pointed the way to the baby’s rooms.
Tiny whimpers came from the white and blue wicker cradle that was set up near the window. Eugenia crossed the room and gazed down at the little boy.
Midnight dark fuzz co
