Lily nodded in agreement. “What is in that tree, Lady Belle?”
“A bird’s nest.”
While they watched, a robin landed on the oak’s branch and the tiny chirping nestlings appeared. Their mother dipped her head toward each one of them in turn.
“What is she doing?” Lily asked.
“Feeding them insects.”
Lily grimaced. “Yuck, yuck, yuck.”
Isabelle laughed at her expression. “Let’s sit on that bench, and I’ll play my flute for you.”
Lily grabbed her hand, and the two strolled across the garden. Isabelle sighed with contentment. Honeysuckle and roses scented the breeze, and sweet birdsong filled the air. Avon Park appeared like a paradise on earth.
“The Duke of Doom’s mother visited me this morning,” Lily said in a conspiratorial whisper.
Isabelle looked at her. “She did?”
Lily nodded. “Juniper was helping me dress.”
“What did the dowager say?”
“ ‘I’ve seen enough.’ ”
“How provoking. Did she smile?”
“Yes, and she nodded her head.”
Sitting on the stone bench, Isabelle reached for her flute case, which she’d left there. Lily sat down beside her.
Isabelle lifted the flute out of the case and asked conversationally, “What do you want more than anything else in the whole wide world?”
“I want to be loved,” Lily answered without hesitation.
Isabelle stared at the girl.
Lily wanted what she had wanted all of those long years ago when she’d met her guardian angel.
“I love you,” Isabelle whispered, leaning close.
“Oh, I am so very happy that Lisette brought me to you,” Lily said, clapping her hands together.
Isabelle lifted the flute to her lips and began playing. Her melody was as jaunty as a brisk morning walk. Sweet trills, rich notes, and liquid phrases like a nightingale’s song filled the air in the garden.
“Your Grace?”
Isabelle immediately stopped playing. Lily and she turned toward the voice.
“I apologize for interrupting,” her husband’s majordomo said. “The dowager wishes to see you and the child as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Dobbs.” Isabelle returned her flute to its case and turned to the girl. “Shall we go inside?”
Lily’s expression screamed disappointment.
“Do you know how butterflies kiss?” Isabelle asked.
“No.”
“Come close and shut your eyes.” When Lily did as she was told, Isabelle fluttered her eyelashes against her cheek, making her giggle.
The woman and child stood and walked toward the mansion. Before going inside, Lily whirled around and shouted, “Farewell, garden. I’ll see you later.”
Isabelle knocked on the dowager’s door. The personal maid answered and ushered them toward the sitting room. Aunt Hester was with the dowager.
“Dearest Isabelle, we are leaving for London shortly,” the dowager greeted her.
“Don’t leave simply because the wedding is over,” Isabelle protested.
“John and you need time to sort this unfortunate incident out,” Dowager Tessa said. “Do you think you can forgive him?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Isabelle told her. “What is done has nothing to do with me.”
“How relieved we are to hear that,” Aunt Hester piped up. “Any other young lady of breeding would—” She shut her mouth abruptly when the dowager cast her a warning look.
“I can see that you’ve already become attached to the child,” the dowager said, smiling. She turned to Lily and asked, “Do you know who I am?”
Lily nodded. “The Duke of Doom’s mother.”
The dowager smiled. “Do you know what that means?”
Lily shook her head.
“I am your grandmama.”
Isabelle beamed with approval, thinking that at least one Saint-Germain had sense. With an expression of awe appearing on her face, Lily stared at the older woman.
“Tessa, you do not know that for sure,” Hester said.
“Hush,” the dowager silenced her. “The child is my granddaughter.”
“How do you know?” Isabelle asked, puzzled.
“A woman always recognizes her own flesh and blood.”
“And what do I call you?” Lily asked in a loud voice.
“Grandmama.”
With a smile that could have lit the whole mansion, Lily threw herself into the old woman’s arms. “Do you really have to leave?”
“Your papa and you need time together to become acquainted,” the dowager said, giving her a hug. “Will you do something for me?”
Lily nodded.
“Be patient with your papa.”
“I promise, Grandmama.”
“Good. I’ll see you again in London.” The dowager turned to Isabelle, who mouthed the words ‘thank you’. “I’m depending on you to take good care of them and help them through this.”
Isabelle nodded. “Of course I will.”
“As you know, my son can be irritatingly stubborn, a miserable trait he inherited from his father,” the dowager continued. “Don’t give up on him. Promise me you’ll keep him from making the worst mistake of his life by refusing to accept her.”
“I promise.”
* * *
Isabelle gazed at her wedding band. Something wonderful had happened yesterday. Her life had changed the moment she’d become John’s wife.
Closing her eyes, Isabelle conjured her husband’s image as he had appeared the previous evening. Again she saw the magnificent sight of his broad shoulders tapering to his waist, his rounded buttocks, his well-muscled thighs. Again she felt his lips on hers, his hands caressing her body, the weight of him as he covered her and shared his love.
Isabelle knew she’d enjoyed her duty as his wife. Somehow, that seemed sinful.
She gave herself a mental shake. If she went down to supper with flushed cheeks, John would know what she’d been thinking. How embarrassing that would be.
Supper’s success or failure depended on her husband. John had been stern with Lily the previous day, but Isabelle knew he was not a stern man. Was he protecting himself from further emotional injury?
Isabelle touched her golden locket for luck. She would force her husband to acknowledge and accept his daughter. In the end, he would thank her for not giving up on him.
Isabelle felt exhilarated. Another of her wishes was about to come true. For the first time in many lonely years, she would be part of a real family.
Wanting to look her best, Isabelle inspected herself in the framed, full-length mirror. She wore a pastel lavender silk dress with a squared neckline and short, puffed sleeves. Her blond hair had been tied back with a matching ribbon.
“Enter,” Isabelle called, hearing the knock on her bedchamber door.
“You look like a princess.” Lily dashed across the chamber. Behind the child stood Mrs. Juniper.
“Thank you.” Isabelle smiled at the little girl. “You look very pretty too.”
Lily looked like an angel in a white muslin dress. The white contrasted becomingly with her raven hair, which Juniper had woven into one thick braid.
Isabelle made a mental note to take Lily into Stratford at the first opportunity. The child needed a complete wardrobe. If need be, she’d use her own money to purchase it.
“Are you hungry?” Isabelle asked her.
Lily nodded eagerly.
“Are you ready to sup with your papa?”
Lily’s expression drooped, and a worried frown creased her forehead.
“Tell me what bothers you,” Isabelle said.
“What if His Grace growls at me again?”
“Then growl back at him.”
Lily stared at her in obvious surprise.
“If His Grace bites you, then bite him back,” Isabelle said. “And if His Grace tickles you, tickle him back. L
ike this . . .” She tickled the girl and made her giggle.
Isabelle offered Lily her hand, and she accepted it. Turning to the nanny, she said, “Have your own supper now, Juniper.”
“Don’t forget,” Lily reminded the older woman. “You promised to tell me a story.”
“I haven’t forgotten, dear.”
Hand in hand, Isabelle and Lily walked the length of the corridor to the grand staircase. Descending to the first-floor foyer, they met the duke’s majordomo.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” the man greeted them. “And a very good evening to you, Mistress Dupre.”
“Thank you, Dobbs,” Isabelle said.
“Thank you, Dobbs,” Lily imitated her.
Isabelle escorted the little girl toward the dining room. She paused in the doorway when she spied John with his back to them staring out the window.
“What a big table,” Lily exclaimed.
John turned around and smiled at Isabelle. A frown appeared on his face when he looked at the girl. To his credit, he banished it quickly.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Lily called to him.
John inclined his head. “And a good evening to you, Mistress Dupre.”
Thank God for tiny miracles. Her husband had gentled his approach to the child.
The three of them sat at one end of the long mahogany dining table. John sat at the head of the table, while Isabelle and Lily sat on either side of him.
Beneath the majordomo’s supervision, the footmen began serving them from the sideboard—cucumber and tomato salad, split-pea soup with bacon and herbs, asparagus in French rolls, roasted chicken, and raspberry cream for dessert.
An uncomfortable silence descended upon them as they began eating. Isabelle peeked at John, who cast speculative glances at Lily. Only the little girl ate with gusto, but even she threw an occasional cautious glance at the duke.
Isabelle tried to think of something witty to say that would warm the atmosphere in the dining room, but her mind remained humiliatingly blank. In the end, Lily saved the meal from being a dismal failure.
“Oops,” Lily said when a bit of chicken fell on her lap. She reached to pick it up, but the chicken landed on the carpet.
“Don’t bother about it,” John said.
Ignoring him, Lily pushed her chair back. She knelt on the floor to search for the chicken.
“Dobbs will retrieve it when we’ve finished the meal,” John said.
“Dobbs is an old man,” Lily shouted from somewhere under the table. “I can bend down better.”
Lily reappeared and held the piece of chicken up for their perusal. Dobbs started forward to take it from her, as Isabelle opened her mouth to tell her to put it down on top of the table.
Lily popped it into her mouth and began chewing, which made the duke smile. After swallowing the bit of chicken, she held her hand up. “All gone.”
John burst out laughing, and Lily gave him an innocently flirtatious smile. Isabelle beamed at the byplay between them. Perhaps, persuading him to accept his daughter wouldn’t be as difficult as she’d assumed
Reclaiming her seat, Lily rested her chin on her hand and leaned closer to John, speaking in a voice loud enough for the servants to hear, “How are your bowels today?”
Isabelle felt a bubble of laughter rising in her throat.
She glanced at the majordomo standing near the sideboard. Dobbs had turned his back on them, but his shoulders shook with silent laughter.
John stared at the little girl. “I beg your pardon?”
“Lady Belle told me about your bowel problem,” Lily said. “That’s why you frown at me. But you must be feeling better today, because you laughed.”
John flicked a sidelong glance at Isabelle. “What remarkable powers of deduction you have, Mistress Dupre.”
“Thank you.” Lily smiled, obviously pleased with herself
“What else did Lady Belle tell you?” John asked, leaning close to the child.
“If you growl at me,” Lily warned, pointing a tiny finger at him, “I’m going to growl back at you. If you bite me, I’ll bite back. If you tickle me, then I’ll—”
“Tickle me back?” John interrupted.
Lily nodded.
“I will remain on my best behavior,” John said, reaching out to touch the tip of her small nose.
Watching them, Isabelle felt her heart soar with her success. Lily was a sweet child, and only a man with no heart could possibly resist her.
“Being tickled makes me laugh,” Lily was telling him. “I like it.”
“What else do you like?” John asked her.
“I like Lady Belle,” Lily answered, “and I like you too.”
Isabelle felt tears welling up in her eyes. She glanced at her husband and saw him swallowing as if he struggled with his emotions too.
“And I like you,” Isabelle told the little girl.
“Do you like sitting outside in the garden on warm summer evenings?” John asked.
“I bet I would,” Lily said, her eagerness apparent.
John glanced at Isabelle. “Shall we?”
The three of them rose from the table and left the dining room. With Lily in the lead, John and Isabelle walked down the corridor to the door that opened onto the garden. A warm breeze greeted them when they stepped outside. The fragrant scents of honeysuckle and roses mingling with new-mown hay wafted through the air.
Taking Lily’s hand in hers, Isabelle led her to one edge of the garden that overlooked a meadow. Sparkling lights flickered and died among the tall grasses in the distance.
“What is it?” Lily asked in an awed whisper.
“Fireflies,” John answered. “They light up while ascending.”
“Wishes whispered to those fireflies will come true,” Isabelle told her. “Those glittering creatures will carry your wish to God and His angels.”
Lily snapped her eyes shut. Her lips moved silently as she whispered her wish to the fireflies.
“What did you wish?” John asked.
Lily looked up at him and lifted her chin a notch. “I shan’t tell you, because then my wish won’t come true.”
They started walking toward the mansion and stopped to sit on the stone bench. Someone had set a bowl of water beside the bench.
“What’s that?” Lily asked.
“I’ve left water for the garden toad,” Isabelle told her. “If we sit here very still, he just might appear.”
Lily sat on the bench between them. For ten long minutes, the three of them sat in silence. Isabelle stole a peek at John, who was watching her as if she were the most interesting sight in the world. She blushed and smiled at him, and then gave the little girl her attention.
“A toad seeking your companionship is considered the sign of a special favor,” Isabelle told her. “Do not be disappointed if he doesn’t come out to meet you tonight, because toads are shy creatures. He needs to become accustomed to your presence.”
“What will you do when Mister Toad does come out to meet you?” John asked her.
“I’ll give him a kiss on the lips.”
John smiled. “Look up at the sky.” When she did, he said, “Very soon now the sky will light up with stars. Did you know there are three twilights?”
Lily looked at him and shook her head.
“Civil twilight arrives as soon as the sun sets in the west, but we still have enough natural light by which to read,” John told her. “The civil twilight deepens into nautical twilight, when the horizon and the sky become one. Astronomical twilight is when the stars emerge in the sky.”
“I want to see the stars,” Lily said, looking at the sky.
“The light is still hiding them,” he told her.
“Can we wait here until they come out?”
John shook his head. “Perhaps another night. I have important work to do on my ledgers.”
“What’s a ledger?”
“My ledger is the book where I keep accounts of my businesses,” he answe
red.
“What are accounts and businesses?” Lily asked, making Isabelle smile.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” John said. “Now is the time for little girls to go to their beds.”
When they returned to the mansion, Juniper was waiting to take Lily upstairs. The girl gave Isabelle a kiss and then turned to John. “Would you like a kiss too, Your Grace?”
The most marvelous thing happened. John nodded and crouched down to receive his kiss from Lily.
“I’ll pray for your bowels,” the little girl told him.
John grinned. “I appreciate your prayers.”
Hand in hand, Juniper and Lily started up the stairs, but their voices drifted back to Isabelle and John.
“What are bowels?” the little girl asked.
“Do you want to hear a story about a princess, or do you want to know about His Grace’s bowels?” the nanny asked.
“I want the princess.”
Smiling, Isabelle turned to her husband, but he wasn’t smiling at her. A forbidding scowl had etched itself across his face. “I want to speak with you in my office now.”
Isabelle followed him up one flight of stairs to his office. Forcing herself to remain calm, she looked at him expectantly when he closed the door behind him.
“I have two things to say to you,” John said in a clipped voice.
Isabelle knew he wasn’t going to thank her for reuniting him with his long-lost daughter.
“Cease talking to yourself when you are alone.”
Isabelle opened her mouth to protest, but John held his hand up for silence.
“I glanced out that window this morning and caught you sitting in the garden having a conversation with yourself,” he told her. “Please do not insult my intelligence by prattling about guardian angels.”
Again, Isabelle opened her mouth. She intended to set him straight about a number of things, beginning with his lack of faith in the invisible. Her husband didn’t give her a chance to speak.
“Accepting Lily into this household is a mistake,” John said, his expression troubled. “Even in the unlikely event she is mine, Lily is illegitimate issue and belongs with her mother.”
“Let me tell you something, Your Grace,” Isabelle said. “I am keeping Lily and will never send her back to the woman who abandoned her. Do I make myself clear?”
“You cannot keep a child who belongs to another woman,” John told her. “She does not belong at Avon Park.”
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