Page 57 of The Governess and the Rogue

Hannah’s expression softened. “Oh goodness. I told the children they weren’t to wait up for us.”

“Uncle Jack!” the oldest boy called. He was the first to reach them, along with the still barking wolfhound. His face was wreathed in smiles. “Did you get my letter?”

Jack smiled broadly in return. Dropping Bea’s hand, he stepped forward to embrace the lad with one arm. “Of course I did, and responded to it too.”

“I haven’t received any reply yet,” the boy said.

“I’m not surprised,” Jack told him. “I’ve likely beat it here.”

The second oldest boy was close on the first boy’s heels. The other two dogs danced around him, big bodies wiggling and tails wagging, nearly causing the child to lose his balance. “What about my letter, Uncle Jack? I sent you the watercolors I did on our holiday in Derbyshire. The ones of the peaks.”

“I hung them in my quarters,” Jack said, hugging the boy in turn. “And wished like the devil I could have been there with you.”

“Uncle Jack!” the little girls cried in unison. They clutched at Jack’s trouser legs and pulled at his coat, surrounding him in company with their brothers and the barking dogs. “Uncle Jack! What did you bring us?”

“Greedy as ever,” Jack teased. He bent to kiss the girls. “I thought you’d grown out of surprise gifts?” He tugged the youngest one’s plaits. “Hadn’t you Charlotte? Or is that Agatha I’m thinking of?”

“Not me,” the older girl replied.

“Nor me,” the littlest one said. “Did you bring me a puppy? Or a kitten?”

“Don’t be stupid,” the younger boy chided. “He can’t put puppies and kittens in his traveling trunks.”

“Mind how you speak to your sister,” Lord St. Clare said to his son.

“Sorry, Charlotte,” the boy uttered promptly. “But really, Papa,” he added with a long-suffering look at his father. “Puppies and kittens? As if we don’t have enough already.”

“Come, my dears.” Hannah urged the girls away from Jack. “Don’t overwhelm your uncle.”

“And mind his leg,” Lord St. Clare warned the oldest boy. “That cane isn’t a toy.”

Bea hung behind Jack in the shadow of the coach as the dogs sniffed at her skirts. She would have shrunk back still further if Jack hadn’t extended his hand to her again. The children peered at her as she took it. There was no malice in their expressions, only curiosity.

“Who is that lady, Uncle Jack?” the older of the girls asked.

“Is that your new wife?” the littlest wondered.

“Not his wife,” the older boy said. “His betrothed.”

“This is Miss Layton,” Jack informed them. He drew Bea forward to stand at his side. “Bea, these are my rapscallion nieces and nephews. That’s Nicholas, his younger brother, Arthur, and their sisters, Agatha and Charlotte. Scapegraces all, and markedly bigger than when I last saw them. Especially you, Nick. You look more like your father by the year.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintances,” Bea said. “Your uncle has spoken of you often.”

The four children continued to gape at her until their father sent them a stern look. They responded in a flash, sketching formal bows and dropping dainty curtsies, as though they were miniature lords and ladies greeting a dignitary at court. “Miss Layton,” they said in unison.

Bea smiled in spite of herself. She had been too much in company with the Dimsdales. She’d almost forgotten how endearing children could be. And these ones were endearing, with their eager faces, their innocent exuberance, and their pack of raucous dogs.

“Let us go in,” Hannah said. She encouraged the dogs and children to precede them before turning her attention to Bea. “You must be longing for your bed.”

“I am, rather,” Bea confessed.

“Our housekeeper has made up your rooms for you.” Hannah set a hand on Bea’s back, guiding her inside. “I shall take you to yours myself.”

Bea relinquished Jack’s hand, allowing Hannah to escort her up the stone steps and into the house’s marble entry hall. There, in the light of a blazing chandelier, they were met by a helpful footman who divested them of their hats, bonnets, coats, and gloves. Even more footmen carried in their trunks and cases, while a kindly looking woman in a ruffled apron appeared at the top of the stairs to take the children back to the nursery.

“What about our presents?” Charlotte asked Jack.

Jack had entered the hall with Lord St. Clare only a few seconds behind Bea and Hannah. “Tomorrow,” he promised.