Her head immediately snapped up. “Really?”
Linus met Caroline’s father’s eye. “Mr. Jonquil,” he said very formally, “might I beg the honor of partnering with your daughter for a game of bowls?”
Layton matched his staid tone. “Are you a reliable gentleman? I do not allow my daughter to play bowls with just anyone.”
“He made boats with me, Papa. And he told Charming they could ride horses together. And he kept Olive from falling in the water by telling him he couldn’t go in the water. And he talked to me even though I was shy when I first saw him.”
Tenderness filled her father’s expression when he looked at her. “Would you like to play bowls with Mr. Lancaster?”
“Yes, please.”
Layton looked at Linus once more. He mouthed the words “Thank you.”
Linus smiled back.
Caroline’s mother entered the discussion. “Should Caroline grow tired”—dropping her voice almost to silent, she added—“or should you”—then returned to her normal volume—“simply bring her back.”
“I will.” He offered a quick bow to the both of them, then held his hand out to Caroline. They walked toward the spot where the bowls equipment was set out, their arms swinging between them. “I should warn you in case we are teamed against my youngest sister, she cheats.”
Caroline skipped alongside him, her hand still in his. “Flip cheats too.”
“Who is Flip?”
“One of Papa’s boys. He lives here. He’s an earl, but he’s still funny.”
Flip, then, was her name for Lord Lampton, whose Christian name was, if Linus remembered correctly, Philip. And Caroline had referred to Charlie as Charming. Oliver was Olive. Did she have odd names for everyone?
“That gentleman just over there,” he motioned to the gentleman he had been told was the curate. “Is he one of your father’s brothers as well?”
She nodded. “That is Holy Harry.”
Holy Harry. Linus had to bite back the snort of amusement that arose at that name. What a horridly perfect moniker for a man of the church.
“He is not a vicar yet,” Caroline continued. “But Flip calls him the vicar because it makes his face turn red, and that makes Flip laugh. And when Flip laughs, all of Papa’s boys laugh. Except Chasin’. Flip makes him roll his eyes, though not as much as he used to. Chasin’s butterfly makes him very happy, so he does not get frustrated like he did before.”
Most of that made little to no sense. But hearing the little girl speak so eagerly and with such animation did his heart a world of good. Her earlier quietness had reminded him so strongly of his dear sister Daphne, whom he’d worried about for so many years. Sharing a friendly moment with this golden-haired version of her felt almost like stepping back into his own childhood and being part of his family again.
They had not yet reached the bowls section of the lawn when Athena, accompanied by two young ladies likely somewhere near Artemis’s age, approached. His older sister wore the same intent expression she had the night before when introducing him to Lady Belinda. Apparently her one-at-a-time strategy hadn’t inflicted quite enough misery.
“Linus,” she said, “I do not believe you have yet made the acquaintance of Miss Romrell and Miss Jane Romrell.”
“I have not.” He offered the expected bow. “And I do not know if the three of you have had the pleasure of being introduced to Miss Jonquil.” He set his hand on Caroline’s shoulder and tucked her up against his leg, knowing she was a little bashful at meeting strangers. “She is one of my favorite people and has agreed to be my partner for lawn bowls.”
The two Misses Romrell looked to Athena, surprise and alarm in their expression. Had his troublemaking sister promised them his attention? He didn’t know whether to be annoyed at her efforts or amused at how very diverting it was to thwart them.
“If you will excuse us,” he said, “Miss Jonquil and I are eager to begin our game.”
Keeping Caroline at his side, Linus stepped away, moving toward their original destination.
“Am I really one of your favorite people?” Caroline asked quietly.
“You absolutely are.”
She smiled up at him, the brilliance of her expression warming him through. “My mama says that too. She says she liked me from the very beginning.”
“I am certain she did.”
Artemis, practically dragging Charlie Jonquil behind her, arrived at the designated location for bowls just as Linus and Caroline did. Telling his tiny partner about Artemis’s questionable history with bowls had likely fated them to this arrangement.
“Are we to be opponents?” Linus asked.
“How fun.” Artemis’s enthusiasm was as apparent as Charlie’s lack thereof. Poor lad. “I hope you are good at bowls, Mr. Jonquil.”
“I’m not.”
Artemis was not discouraged. “My brother is not very good either, so it should even out.”
“He is good,” Caroline insisted.
Artemis looked down at her, smiling and friendly. “Who is? My brother or your uncle?”
Caroline thought about it a moment. “Both.”
Artemis tossed Charlie a saucy look. “Have you been downplaying your talents?”
To his credit, he set aside his annoyance enough to join in the banter. “A gentleman does not brag.”
“Is it also a violation of the gentlemen’s code to heartlessly trounce one’s competition?” she asked.
“It is when that competition is my favorite six-year-old niece.” He winked at Caroline, and she giggled.
“I believe we can all agree,” Linus said, “that Caroline is the one in charge here.”
Her giggle turned to a full laugh.
Artemis smiled broadly. “Shall you and I set up the game?” she asked the little girl.
Caroline eagerly joined her, leaving Linus and Charlie behind.
“How did my sister force your hand?” Linus asked.
“She asked in front of my mother, who is still put out with me over the milkmaid figurine.”
“Ah.”
Charlie shrugged. He clearly didn’t find the arrangement entirely to his liking, but he was being obliging. “I was only standing there because I had hoped to spy Arabella and ask her to be my partner. We’ve known each other forever. I wouldn’t have been under any pressure to be impressive.”
“Do you often feel that pressure?”
“Jonquils are supposed to be exceptional,” Charlie said. “It wouldn’t do to be the only one who turned out ordinary.”
There was a piece of the puzzle this young gentleman presented. Though his contradictory thoughts that first day had been focused on his schooling, it seemed at least part of his struggles were familial.
Linus could appreciate that worry. His brother had been extraordinary. Stepping into the role meant to have been Evander’s was only serving to highlight his own shortcomings. His inadequacy would be obvious once he returned to Shropshire and took up the reins of the estate. Everyone would see it, and he would have to face it all himself: how ill-suited he was, how empty the estate now sat, how irrevocably and painfully lost to him Evander truly was.
“I should warn you,” Charlie said, “if Arabella returns from her walk earlier than usual, I intend to abandon your sister.”
One glance at Charlie’s face told Linus he was jesting. He had manners enough not to rudely leave, even if he’d been strong-armed into being present.
“Does Miss Hampton often go for walks?”
Charlie nodded. “Every day. She always has, sometimes for hours on end. She’s known in the neighborhood for it.”
It was an odd hobby. Linus didn’t know that he’d ever met anyone who walked long enough and frequently enough for the entire neighborhood to associate her with it. She grew more intriguing the more he learned of
her.
Caroline skipped back over to them. She looked up into both their faces. “Miss Lancaster says I am delightful.”
“She is absolutely correct,” Linus said.
Charlie chucked her under the chin. “Have you made another friend, sweetie?”
She nodded.
Good for Artemis. Though his sister had her difficulties and some aspects of her behavior worried him, moments such as these gave Linus hope.
She returned to where they stood, tossing and catching a bowl. “Are you gentlemen ready?”
A commotion nearby pulled all their attention. A swirl of activity had erupted. Adam was barking orders that Linus couldn’t quite make out. Persephone looked utterly frantic.
Linus caught a servant rushing past. “What’s happened?”
“Lord Falstone’s gone missing,” she said.
Merciful heavens.
He turned to Charlie. “Return Miss Caroline to her parents.”
“Of course.” Charlie scooped his niece up into his arms.
Artemis moved swiftly, doing her utmost to keep pace with Linus. He assessed the situation as they approached and knew, without question, Adam was the one to ask for an assignment and not Persephone. She was distraught, while he was in battle mode.
“Give me my orders,” Linus said.
“You and Harry search the copse of trees to the east.”
“Aye aye.” Linus spun and, meeting Harry’s eye, motioned with his head for them to move in the direction they’d been assigned.
“How long has Oliver been missing?” he asked his brother-in-law.
Harry shook his head. “No one is certain.”
Linus swept his gaze over the area as they moved closer to the trees. “How did this happen?”
“Again, no one is certain.”
Adam and Persephone would sort the how of it later. “You head south,” Linus said. “I’ll sweep northward.”
Harry nodded, and they stepped into the trees, each going in their own direction. Oliver was a small boy. He couldn’t have gone far. That was Linus’s one source of consolation. He could not have gone far.
* * *
Arabella was at a loss. There was absolutely nothing for her to do despite the extensive entertainments planned for the day. The servants were more than capable of setting up lawn games and tables of food. Mater had directed their efforts with no show of fatigue. The one time she had found herself wishing for her shawl, one of the maids had rushed to fetch it before Arabella had had a chance.
She did not seem to be needed the way a companion usually was, nor did anyone seem to expect her to truly fill that role. What, then, was her purpose among the Jonquils?
Seeking permission to undertake her daily walk whilst the afternoon’s games were underway had proven her best option. She would not be in the way, nor would she be left in the uncomfortable position of standing about, wishing she knew how to claim a place among them.
She could not remember when she had first begun walking, but it had become a daily part of her life. She knew every inch of the area around her uncle’s home, everything from the town of Collingham to the narrow cart path at the far end of the Sarvol estate. Walking was her escape, her most reliable means of survival.
That day’s excursion she limited to the grounds of Lampton Park nearest where the guests’ activities were taking place. She didn’t allow herself to think too closely on her reasons for staying so near them all, knowing the decision spoke clearly of desperation.
The river Trent ran through the Park grounds. She wandered in that direction. The sound of the running water had often been soothing. She’d sometimes found the earl there, walking as well, his head bent in contemplation, his hands clasped behind his back.
Arabella clutched her fingers around the bead he’d given her and ran it back and forth on its chain. Had the earl also found solace in walking? Or was it the solitude that he’d benefited from? Either way, it had endeared him to her even more. They had had this in common.
She clasped her hands behind her as she walked on, but a sound stopped her in her tracks. She listened more closely. Someone was crying. A very small someone, she would guess.
“Who is there?” She looked around but didn’t immediately spot the source of the cries.
No answer was forthcoming. She stepped off the riverside footpath and farther into the brush. After a moment, she found the child, the same little boy Mr. Lancaster had carried in his arms earlier that day: little Lord Falstone.
Why in heaven’s name was he here? And all alone? The child could not have been more than two or three years old.
Arabella knelt in front of him. “Are you lost, dear?”
He nodded, even as his tears picked up. Both his hands clutched one of his shins. A closer inspection showed three rivulets of blood seeping down his leg.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
Another nod.
“May I see, please?”
He hesitantly pulled back his hands. A deep gash ran nearly the length of his lower leg. Dirt and tiny bits of rock had lodged inside.
“Is there anyone here with you?” she asked.
He shook his head no. His family was likely frantic, then.
“Let’s get you back to your father and mother.” She lifted him into her arms, careful of his leg. She had no desire to cause him more pain.
The boy leaned heavily against her. “Will Papa be angry?” he asked between shaky breaths.
As far as Arabella knew, the Duke of Kielder was always angry. How she hoped that did not prove true this time. “I believe he will be very happy that you have been found.” She held him a little closer as she navigated through the narrow gaps between bushes; her larger frame did not fit into the same small spaces his tiny one had. “When I was young, I became terribly lost once. Not far from here, in fact.”
“Were you scared?” he asked.
“A little.”
“Did your papa find you?”
Explaining to the already worried little boy that her father had been long dead by the time this particular story had taken place did not seem at all necessary. And the gentleman who had found her had been enough like a father that she didn’t feel guilty answering as she did. “Yes. He found me, and he wasn’t angry or scolding. He was simply happy to have me with him again.” What she wouldn’t have given to be with him now.
“Oliver!” A voice echoed among the trees.
The little boy perked up. Oliver was likely his Christian name.
“Does that sound like your papa?” she asked.
He shook his head no.
“Oliver! Where are you?”
She paused her navigating of the copse of trees. “I am going to bellow quite loudly, Oliver.” She didn’t want to startle the already overset child. “We are over here!” she called out.
A moment later, Mr. Lancaster came stomping through the underbrush, his expression and demeanor exactly what one would expect of a military man on campaign. There was a fearsomeness in his expression she’d not seen before. He eyed her, then Oliver. His aura of determination increased, and he reached them far faster than she would have expected.
“Where did you—?” His gaze froze as it reached the boy’s leg. “What happened?”
“I don’t know any details,” Arabella said. “But the cut is deep and will need a thorough cleaning.”
“I falled,” Oliver said.
Mr. Lancaster’s focus did not lessen. “Has he any other injuries?”
“None that I know of.”
He nodded crisply. He was Lieutenant Lancaster through and through. Firm, commanding, all because his family needed him to be. Little Oliver likely had no idea how fortunate he was to be so deeply cared for.
“You disappeared,” the lieutenant said to his nephew. His fearsome exp
ression softened. He brushed his hand over the little boy’s mud-splattered hair. “We’ve been worried about you, little one.”
“I wanted to see the boats.”
Boats?
Mr. Lancaster paled a little. “You were going to the river?” He turned worried eyes on her.
“He did not get that far,” she said.
“Thank heavens,” Mr. Lancaster whispered. “Let’s get him back to his parents.”
Mr. Lancaster moved with singular purpose. Arabella kept pace with him. They made their way to the edge of the tree line and stepped out onto the lawn where the games, now abandoned, had been set up.
Mr. Lancaster cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted to a servant standing at the edge of the back terrace, no doubt watching for the return of anyone sent out to search, “He’s been found!”
The maid waved back and rushed into the house.
Arabella leaned her head a bit closer to Mr. Lancaster and lowered her voice. “Oliver is nervous that his father will be angry with him. I think it might be best if you return him to his parents, as you know them better than I do and will know best how to stave off any storms.”
“The duke will not be angry,” Mr. Lancaster said. “But he can be frightening when he is worried.”
That might very well be interpreted the same way by the anxious little boy. “Oliver,” she said, “would you mind terribly if your uncle carried you the rest of the way to the house?”
He nodded without hesitation or uncertainty. The transfer was made easily and quickly.
“You were very brave,” she told him. “And I know your family will take very good care of you.”
“Were you brave when your papa found you?”
She smiled. He had been paying attention. “I was.”
Oliver squared his tiny shoulders, a firmness to the movement that spoke of resolution. “I’ll be brave some more, even if Papa is angry.”
“I know you will be.” She turned back to Mr. Lancaster. “You’d best hurry. His parents are likely beside themselves.”
She watched as Mr. Lancaster, moving so fast that his short curls bounced against the nape of his neck, carried his nephew to the house.
Were you brave? the sweet boy had asked. While the earl had been alive, she had always been brave. She’d leaned on his strength when her own courage had faltered. She felt as though she’d been struggling ever since.
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