“Buttercup.” She repeated the word very carefully, her French accent rendering it nearly unrecognizable. “Buttercup.”
She was delightful. Adèle would have an entire flock of adoptive uncles in England who would likely teach her the English names of every flower shecould think of. And Aldric would somehow manage to get heractualuncle back to her.
He didn’t allow that thought to remain either. He’d promised Céleste he would put it from his mind, and he didn’t intend to break his word to her.
“I think Bouton d’Or is the perfect name for our horse,” he told her.
She beamed up at him, clearly proud of herself. Did anyone other than Céleste ever offer her compliments and confidence? He suspected the older nurse at Fleur-de-la-Forêt did. But Jean-François was in Paris more often than the countryside, which meant Adèle was as well.
“Do you remember when you came to my house in England?” he asked Adèle.
She shook her head no. She had been only three years old, so it would have been far more surprising if shehadremembered.
“You came and visited me there when you were very little.”
“Did I like visiting you?”
He smiled. “Oh yes. We had a grand time. We played games, and you and the other children in the nursery sang songs.”
“There were other children?” That, in particular, seemed to excite her.
“A little baby named Philip. And my nephew Roderick, who is a little older than you.”
“Can we visit your house again?” she asked.
He didn’t bother hiding his smile. It was precisely what he’d hoped she would want. “Your aunt Céleste thought you would enjoy that.”
She nodded eagerly. “I want to visit your house.”
“I have a great many flowers growing in the fields around my house. And I have others growing in a conservatory.”
“I do not know what that is.”
“It is a very large room with glass all along the walls. And inside is a garden.”
“With flowers?”
He pulled his eyes wide and nodded. She looked utterly enchanted. Aldric vowed in that moment that one of the very first things he would do when they reached Norwood was take Adèle to the conservatory.
“What flowers do you have?” she asked in an amazed whisper.
“In the glass room, we have roses and violets and lilies and such. I also have others that people don’t know as well, like calamint and love-in-a-mist”—he didn’t know the French name for that particular flower, so had to use the English—“and so many others.”
“I want to see them.” She bounced a little on her seat.
“And I very much want to show them to you.”
She leaned against his arm, sighing with obvious delight. “I love you, tonton Aldric.”
“And I love you,ma petite douce.”
The smile didn’t leave his face as they continued on down the road. She thought of him as an uncle. And she loved him as one. Heaven knew the little girl had permanently claimed a corner of his usually closed-off heart. He almost didn’t recognize himself.
Without warning, the wagon’s frame jutted and twisted with an ominous creak. He didn’t know if they’d hit a rock or a rut, but whatever it was, it didn’t sound good. Adèle looked up at him immediately, obviously concerned.
He reached over and patted her hand quickly but didn’t keep the reins one-handed for long. The wagon was rolling oddly. He guided the horse to the side of the road and hopped down. The breeze was heavy with moisture, and there was rain on the horizon. But he needed to find out what had happened, needed to know what to do.
A quick examination revealed the frustrating situation: there was a break in two of the spokes on one wheel. It wasn’t so bad that they couldn’t keep going, but he also didn’t know how long the wheel would last or if it could endure further jarring. These roads were rough, as evidenced by the very break he was assessing.
