Page 85 of A Duchess for his Family

Marjorie curled closer beside him, with one hand resting upon his arm. Benedict looked down at both girls. There was such tenderness in his expression that Sophia’s voice nearly failed her.

He had feared this afternoon. She knew it now. He feared danger, disorder, and every circumstance he could not control. Yet he came. And the girls, who had begun the day doubtful of him, now rested against him with complete trust.

Sophia felt an unexpected ache rise behind her ribs.

Benedict looked up. He caught her watching him. For one suspended moment, neither turned away. His expression remained grave, but the softness in it deepened. Sophia felt as though something unspoken had crossed the small distance between them: gratitude, apology, perhaps even hope.

She lowered the book slightly. Benedict’s gaze moved over her face with a warmth that made the quiet afternoon seem suddenly intimate.

Then, Marjorie sat upright. Her eyes fixed upon a bush several yards away. She pointed.

“What is that?”

Chapter Twenty-One

Benedict followed the direction of Marjorie’s finger.

Nothing moved.

The shrub stood several yards away at the edge of the cedar’s shade, a thick, rather untidy clump of glossy leaves. Benedict believed it had been planted by his mother, though he could not recall its name. Until that moment, its only contribution to Rivermere had been taking up an inconvenient patch of lawn.

“What is what?” Amelia asked, lifting her head from Benedict’s shoulder.

“The thing beneath the bush.”

“There is no thing beneath the bush,” Benedict assured them.

“There!” Marjorie squealed. “It moved!”

Sophia closed the book upon one finger. “Bushes have been known to move.”

“There is no wind,” Marjorie replied.

Benedict glanced at Sophia. “An especially subtle wind, perhaps.”

Her eyes brightened. “You remembered.”

He had remembered far too much about the afternoon, including the way the sunlight rested upon her face whenever she smiled and the warmth that had entered her expression when she saw the girls curled against him. Then, the bush rustled. Amelia sat upright.

“That was not the wind.”

Everyone stared as another faint movement passed through the lowest leaves.

Marjorie scrambled to her feet. “I shall investigate.”

“You shall remain here,” Benedict ordered.

Her face fell. “But I discovered it.”

“Discovery does not make you invulnerable.”

“It may be a rabbit,” Sophia suggested.

“Or a hedgehog,” Amelia said.

“Or a secret passage,” Marjorie breathed.

Benedict looked at the bush. “It is not a secret passage.”