Page 86 of A Duchess for his Family

“You cannot know until we examine it.”

“I know because passages do not generally rustle.”

“Someone may be hiding inside it.” That possibility was sufficiently alarming to Amelia that she moved closer to Sophia.

Marjorie’s imagination gathered speed. “It may be a smuggler.”

“In a garden bush?” Benedict asked incredulously.

“A very small smuggler.”

“Or a French pirate,” Amelia offered, though without much conviction.

Sophia rose and brushed crumbs from her skirts. “Perhaps we ought all to look. Otherwise, Marjorie will invent increasingly dangerous occupants until the bush contains an entire invading army.”

Marjorie looked delighted by the possibility.

Benedict stood. “I shall inspect it.”

“So shall I,” Marjorie declared.

“No.”

“You may require assistance.”

“With a shrub?”

“With the smuggler.”

“There is no smuggler.”

“You appear very certain for a man who has not yet looked.”

Benedict glanced at Sophia, expecting support. Her lips were pressed together, and her eyes carried a suspicious brightness.

“You are enjoying this.”

“Immensely,” she admitted.

He had already lost command of the expedition.

“Remain behind me,” he ordered.

They advanced across the lawn in a formation no military commander would have approved. Benedict went first. Sophia followed with Amelia’s hand in hers, while Marjorie moved continually from one side to the other in an effort to see around him.

The bush rustled once more.

All four stopped.

Marjorie seized the back of Benedict’s waistcoat.

He looked over his shoulder, hiding his amusement. “I thought you were unafraid.”

“I am not afraid,” she whispered. “I am holding you in case you are.”

A soft laugh escaped Sophia. Benedict ignored it and bent toward the shrub. At first, he saw only damp soil and fallen leaves. Then two small eyes stared back at him from beneath the lowest branches.

He straightened.