Chapter Nine

Alice’s eyes were wide enough to show the white around the pale green middles as she looked up at Dogberry. Graham chuckled as he guided her limp hand to the horse’s shoulder. The muscle quivered beneath her hand, but the well-trained horse didn’t move.

“He’s big,” the little girl whispered.

Dogberry wasn’t all that large of a horse, but to a little girl he was probably giant. Particularly if she didn’t spend a lot of time around horses. “Have you ridden a horse before?”

Alice shook her head. “I’ve ridden in the wagon when Mr. Ban—” She clamped her lips shut so tightly they turned white around the edges.

Graham continued as if he hadn’t noticed, even though his curiosity was riding him with a fierceness he hadn’t felt in a very long time. These children were obviously part of Mr. Banfield’s “hidden treasure,” but that didn’t tell Graham whether or not their hiding was a good thing. Alice’s comment had sounded like that man was a friend, but then she was young enough that she might not know any better.

“I’m afraid your first ride won’t be a proper one,” Graham said with an exaggerated sigh. “I haven’t the proper saddle for a young lady such as yourself.”

Her thin shoulders lifted and fell. “I won’t know the difference.”

Another chuckle rose in Graham’s throat as he lifted her onto the back of the horse, right behind the saddle. It took her a few moments to adjust her skirts to her liking, but she was soon settled and clutching the back of the saddle as he instructed.

Graham turned his attention to the now-sniffling Henry. Blood was smeared across his cheek, mingling with the unchecked tears and snot. Graham never knew children could be so . . . disgusting. He might have to revise his opinion on whether or not keeping them hidden away in the nursery was a good idea.

Arranging Henry on top of the horse was a bit more difficult, given that every bump made him whimper, and he refused to let loose of Graham’s cloak even though the fabric could wrap around the boy twice with some to spare.

Once the boy was perched on the front of the saddle and draped over the horse’s neck, Graham faced yet another difficult mounting: his own. He’d have to lift himself up and then slide one leg between the children. More than once, Graham thought he was about to tumble back into the bluebells he’d been admiring earlier, but he didn’t. He settled into the saddle with his cloak bunched between him and the boy and Alice’s thin fingers buried in his jacket.

“Off we go, then. Alice, you’ll have to show me the way.”

She was silent so long that he twisted around to look at her. One lip was snagged in her tiny teeth as she looked up at him. Finally she nodded and pointed toward a break in the trees. “Take that path until you reach the creek.”

Graham set off, keeping Dogberry to a very gentle walk. Anything above a plod made Henry moan, but the slow sway of an amble calmed him, and soon his body relaxed into a limp mass against Graham’s chest. With any luck, the boy had fallen asleep and wasn’t passed out from the ordeal.

By their third turn, Graham was rather lost and could only hope that Alice actually knew where she was going—and that someone at her house would know of a simpler way for Graham to return to the road.

Finally, he saw blackberry bushes and a patch of dim grey light that indicated a break in the trees ahead. As they left the wooded area, a vast lake stretched out before him, nestled among gentle hills. A multi-arched stone bridge spanned the lake, joining its reflection to make a series of circles marching across the water. On the highest of the rolling hills perched a grand house. Smaller buildings were dotted along the lake’s shoreline, and unkempt paths seemed to crisscross the entire property.

It looked like a once thriving but now neglected estate.

More questions instead of a single answer flitted through Graham’s mind.

He guided Dogberry along the edge of the lake, but the closer they got to the house, the tighter Alice held him. She was trembling enough that he could feel it even through his shirt, waistcoat, and jacket.

What was at the house that frightened her so? Hidden treasure and possibly crazy solicitor aside, he wasn’t leaving these two children with anyone if there was the slightest indication that they were in danger.

The grounds nearer the house had seen more attention than the lake area, though even here, certain areas, like the remains of a large hedge maze, had been left to nature’s whim.

A brick wall rose up to their right, occasionally broken by a wrought-iron gate. A vast garden stretched out within the walls, showing signs of great care and tending, which the rest of the grounds were missing.

Beyond the walled garden, he could see a collection of outbuildings that seemed in good repair. The smell and sound of livestock indicated they were at least in some sort of working condition. Past that, a long lawn stretched up to the back of a glorious-looking house, with wide stairs leading up between the jutting rooms. Simple rectangular windows dotted the smooth white face of the building, and elaborate carving created what appeared to be a railing around the roof.

The door to the back of the house, however, didn’t seem to match the rest of the grandeur, consisting of a rough-hewn plank attached to the intricate iron hinges.

A barn-like structure was built against one wall of the garden, though he doubted it contained any horses, considering Alice’s reaction to Dogberry.

A young girl stepped out of the stable, a large bundle of dark brown hair on top of her head and her skirt about an inch higher than it should have been. Her mouth dropped open as she spied Graham and the children. The basket in her hand hit the ground before she snatched at her skirts and ran for the house.

Graham frowned. What was going on here?

He forced himself to keep the horse slow when he really wanted to rush behind the girl and get to the house at the same time she did.

She disappeared up the stairs and through the strange plank door. Moments later, another girl stepped out with her, this one with her hair twisted into a long blond braid. Were there no adults at this house?

Graham guided the horse right up to the stairs. With one arm he reached behind him to grasp Alice and lower her to the ground. She wobbled a bit as her legs adjusted to being off the horse, but then she ran up the stairs to the older girls, babbling about trees and horses and rules. Even though Graham had been part of the entire proceedings, he couldn’t follow her tale.

He slid to the ground and scooped the still-limp Henry into his arms.

The tallest girl, and presumably the oldest, swallowed hard and stepped forward, laying one hand on Alice’s shoulder and holding her close. “Is Henry hurt?”

Graham nodded. “I don’t know how bad his leg is, and he’s got a cut on his head that hasn’t stopped bleeding yet.”

“We’ll take him to the kitchen, then.” She set her shoulders and led him around the side of the house to a low wooden door.

Graham followed her, holding little Henry, still wrapped in the voluminous cloak, close to his chest. In the distance thunder rumbled. He needed to get back across the river before the rain came, but he couldn’t leave just yet.

For one thing, he wasn’t sure what was going on. For another, he was thoroughly and completely lost. He was fairly stuck until someone gave him directions, or until he became desperate enough to wander about the wooded trails hoping to stumble across someone who could direct him back to Marlborough.

The kitchen was large, with a thick-cut wooden worktable in the center and a fire blazing away in the cook hearth. A large bucket of water sat to one side and another table sat against the wall, covered with linen-wrapped bundles that were probably the day’s bread, given the yeasty smell that lingered in the air. The floor was clean, and the smooth walls of the outside continued on the inside. He gently settled his burden onto the table.

The sound of hurried footsteps coming down the stairs pounded into the room just ahead of yet another small child, a boy this time. Two women were right behind him—finally someone who appeared to be over the age of ten. Or maybe twelve. He glanced at the girl with the braid. Possibly fifteen? Definitely not older than that, or she wouldn’t still look like a child.

A look of grave concern covered the round face of the first woman as she ran into the kitchen, hands wrapped in her skirts. Behind her came a petite woman not much larger than the girl who’d brought him to the kitchen, but definitely older and wearing a maturity that marked her as an adult. Her face looked emotionless, pure as a porcelain doll’s, until she set eyes on Graham.

Then her eyes narrowed, and a groove appeared along the top of her nose. Her glare was icy hard.

Graham fought the urge to squirm. He’d done nothing wrong.

Well, other than set off with the intent of uncovering the solicitor’s hidden treasure, but he’d rescued two children along the way, so that had to shift his motivation to somewhere in the neutral range.

He pointed to the boy, just in case the angry woman didn’t realize what he’d done. “He has a gash on his head and his leg is injured. I don’t know how badly, but I don’t think it’s broken.”

“Henry!” The concerned woman rushed forward and laid a gentle hand on Henry’s cheek. With efficient movements, she unbundled him from the cloak and set about sending the various children off for clean clothes, bandages, and wood and lashings to make a splint.

Graham backed out of the woman’s way until he could feel the heat of the kitchen fire through his clothing.

The shorter woman stepped to the side as the children rushed from the room on their given assignments. Once they’d left, the first woman dipped a bowl into the large bucket of water and snagged a rag from the bread-laden table before setting about cleaning the little boy’s face. The boy snuffled and woke as the water hit his face, and the woman began cooing comforting noises at him.

“What happened?”

The sentence was spoken in a low voice and very near to Graham’s left ear. He jerked his attention away from the ministrations at the table to find that the smaller woman had worked her way around the room to challenge him. Her features were delicate, with pale blond hair scraped back from her face, emphasizing sharp cheekbones and a thin, straight nose. Her pale golden eyes were hard and flat.

Graham swallowed. When was the last time he felt so intimidated by a mere look? Had he ever? Certainly never from a woman. “He got himself stuck in a tree.”

One golden eyebrow arched upward. “And you just happened to be nearby?”

“Yes.” He felt he should give more information, but he really didn’t have anything to offer.

“Who are you?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but the room was invaded once more with children talking and asking questions and plopping the medical supplies on the table. The woman caring for Henry wiped her hands on the wet rag she’d been using on the boy’s face. Her dark blue skirt swished against the children pressed around her. She set one little boy to the side, neatly moved around one of the older girls, and set about bandaging Henry’s head before moving on to his leg.

As an only child, Graham found the chaos mesmerizing.

More movement at the door of the kitchen drew his attention as a third woman stepped inside. All fear of the little woman next to him dropped away, along with his admiration of the woman juggling all the children. Every last part of him leaped for joy at the sight before him.

The sprigged muslin dress was far less fine, and the hair rolled into a simple bun had far more strands escaping, but there was no denying that he recognized the woman.

Somehow he’d managed to find his mysterious lady in green.

Kit stumbled to a halt three steps into the kitchen. She blinked. It wasn’t possible. She blinked again. But the vision in front of her remained. How had he found her? Why had he found her?

And how was she possibly going to explain to Jess and Daphne why she hadn’t mentioned meeting him in London?

Her mouth snapped open and shut a few times before she took a deep breath and steadied herself. “What are you doing here?”

Jess’s head swung back and forth, her sharp glance bouncing from Kit to the man and back again. “You know him?”

“I met him in London.”

Daphne’s head popped up, eyes wide with alarm, and Jess reached a hand toward the knife she kept in a hidden sheath sewn into the back of her spencer jacket.

“No, no,” Kit rushed to say, holding up her hands, palms out toward her friends. “I didn’t go there to meet him.”

Why oh why oh why had she thought keeping the entire story to herself was a good idea? It would be so much easier if she could just say he was the man from the ballroom. But she couldn’t. And right now wasn’t the time to rectify that. Right now, she needed to keep Daphne from worrying and keep Jess from threatening bodily harm.

Or worse.

Jess wasn’t likely to waste her breath on threats if she thought the man was truly a danger. Not that Kit had ever seen the petite woman actually hurt anyone, but she had the confidence and skill to do so.

Jess’s hand movements stalled, and the look she sent Kit promised that the knife might be coming at her later if answers weren’t soon forthcoming, but then she turned her icy glare back on their unexpected visitor. “Why are you following her?”

Kit winced, knowing Jess’s tone, on top of the very strange situation, would make Lord Wharton extremely suspicious. They couldn’t afford not to be blunt, though. They had to know why he was there and how he’d come to be at her secret home accompanied by her children—well, the children who were in her care and the closest she was going to get to having a family of her own.

Lord Wharton spread his arms wide and gave that same charming, beguiling smile he’d sent her way when she tried to refuse his offer of lemonade. “This is simply a happy coincidence. Perhaps God rewarding my good deed of assisting a few children in need.”

Kit bit her cheek to keep from smiling in return. The man seemed to bring light into the room by simply breathing, but she couldn’t let herself get distracted by it. “And you just happened to be riding through the woods nearly eighty miles from London in the middle of the Season on a whim?”

He tilted his head in thought. “More the beginning than the middle, but yes. I accompanied a friend to Marlborough on, er, family business.”

The careful phrasing made tension roll through the room. Daphne kept her head tucked over Henry’s wound, but her hands had stilled while Jess’s hand slid up her back once more, disappearing beneath the spencer and wrapping around the handle of the knife.

Was it possible that this man was friends with one of the children’s fathers? He wasn’t really of an age to have a connection to the fathers of the children’s mothers, but perhaps he was somehow connected to one of the mothers themselves? Anything was possible. Over the years, more than one scoundrel had followed the money to Nash’s office, but no one had ever ventured out into the woods before.

“And what friend would that be?” Kit asked, carefully keeping her tone as nonchalant as possible.

Lord Wharton’s eyebrows climbed a notch closer to his hairline, and he slid half a step away from Jess. “Lord Farnsworth,” he said slowly, “son of the Earl of Trenting.”

Farnsworth was not a familiar name, but Trenting certainly was. The man’s signature was barely dry on the contract for his share of the support payments. He’d made her meet him at an inn halfway between Marlborough and London to sign the papers and turn over the care of his daughter.

Kit had been hesitant to agree to taking on a woman with a brother unless the brother was the one signing the contract, and now she knew she’d been right to be so wary. Even though the earl had assured her the brother was of no concern, there was a man in her kitchen who said differently.

And while it was certainly comforting to know that there were men growing up with more honor than their fathers, it made their current situation rather tricky.

At least they’d stopped keeping the women at the manor ten years ago. It was much easier to house them in the home of a woman who would be able to nurse the baby for a year or so after it was born. No matter what happened, this man would never know the whereabouts of Lady Priscilla.

“Trenting, you say?” Kit cleared her throat. “How nice of you.”

Awkward silence fell as the children looked from one adult to another, waiting to see what would happen. They didn’t get many visitors here at the manor, and the few who did come were expected and usually accompanied by Nash.

“Jess,” Kit said through a dry throat, “please take the children upstairs. It’s time for their afternoon lessons.”

One side of Jess’s mouth tilted up, causing a dimple to crease her cheek. She slid the knife back into its sheath with practiced ease. “I’ll just start them on their maths, then.”

Daphne coughed and lowered her head closer to the bandage she was securing around Henry’s little head. Her shoulders were trembling slightly, probably from trying to hold back laughter at the thought of Jess teaching anyone maths. The girl was a fast thinker and brilliant with languages, but no one would ever consider her smart when it came to the traditional subjects of maths and science.

“Oof, Mama Daphne!” the little boy cried, swinging his arms up to his face. “You’re going to smother me!”

The little boy’s squirming offense sent Daphne’s light giggles over the top. She got herself under control quickly and scooped Henry from the table. She looked from Kit to Lord Wharton before turning her attention back to the little boy in her arms. “Let’s go bind your leg in the drawing room, shall we? That way, you can watch the birds fly around outside while you rest it.”

While it was better to get everyone as far away from this man as possible, Kit had a powerful urge to stop Daphne from leaving. She didn’t want to be alone with the man from London. He made her feel exposed, made her remember the ballroom and that riot of emotions that had bombarded her the entire way home.

The quiet, expectant look on his face didn’t help matters any.

How was she possibly going to convince him to leave immediately and return to town without telling anyone about this place?

Then the air around them crackled, and a loud boom of thunder crashed through the sky, followed by the telltale pounding of a rainy deluge.

No matter how much she wanted him gone, she couldn’t throw him out into the rain after he’d saved Henry. For the time being, she was stuck with him.

And the triumphant grin on the man’s face said he knew it.