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“Mama! Come quickly!”

At the sound of a child’s voice, Rosalind looked toward the house. The front door was now open, and a young girl of four or five years of age was standing in the doorway, staring at them.

“It looks like we’ve been spotted,” Sebastian said.

“It does.” Rosalind lifted her skirts and stepped over a large puddle before taking his arm. “Do you know her name?”

“Edith, I believe.”

Someone in the house must have spoken to Edith because the young girl turned to look over her shoulder. “It’s His Grace and a pretty lady,” she called.

Sebastian grinned. “Come along, pretty lady. If we stand out here much longer, we shall end up dripping more water onto their floor than the damaged roof will do.”

By the time they reached the door, a young woman, not much older than Rosalind, was standing beside Edith with another smaller child in her arms. The woman’s fair hair was pulled up beneath a mobcap, and although her blue eyes revealed her surprise at their unexpected arrival, she greeted them warmly.

“Good day, Your Grace.” Her curtsy was understandably labored. The white apron hanging over the front of her brown skirt could not hide the sure sign that another child would soon be joining the family. “Please, come in.”

Mrs. Beckett led them into a small parlor. A low fire was burning in the fireplace, and two rather worn armchairs sat on either side of it.

Sebastian removed his hat. Water sprayed off the brim and onto the wood floor. “Mrs. Beckett, I should like you to meet my wife, Her Grace, the Duchess of Kelbrook. Rosalind, this is Mrs. Mary Beckett.”

Mrs. Beckett curtsied again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”

“Likewise, Mrs. Beckett.” Rosalind smiled at Edith, who had sidled up to her mother and was watching her with wide eyes. “Your daughters are quite lovely.”

Mrs. Beckett ran her free hand over Edith’s plaited hair. “Thank you, Your Grace. They are good girls.”

“This is Edith, His Grace tells me.” Upon hearing her name, the little girl instantly hid behind her mother’s skirts.

“Yes. And this one is Elsie. Edith recently had her fourth birthday, and Elsie is two years old.”

Elsie popped her thumb into her mouth. Like her older sister’s, her blonde hair was twisted into two plaits, but they were considerably shorter and stubbier than Edith’s.

“And when do you expect your baby’s arrival?” Rosalind asked. Mrs. Beckett was so pear shaped, there was no avoiding the subject.

“Early next month, Your Grace.”

“How wonderful.” Rosalind bent down so that she was closer to Edith’s height. “What do you think about having another brother or sister, Edith?”

The little girl glanced from Rosalind’s face to her mother’s. Mrs. Beckett gave her an encouraging nod. “Tell Her Grace what you think, Edith.”

“I think it should be a little brother because I have a sister already.”

Rosalind smiled. “That would be perfect, would it not? I have a younger brother. He’s all grown up now, but we played together very often when we were little.”

Elsie squirmed down from her mother’s arms and inched closer to Edith. “Is dat your bwother?” she asked, pointing at Sebastian.

“No, dear. My brother is far from here. His Grace is my husband.”

Sebastian instantly became the subject of two sets of curious blue eyes.

“Papa is Mama’s husband,” Edith informed her.

Rosalind smiled. “That’s right.”

“I assume Mr. Beckett is currently away from home,” Sebastian said as Rosalind rose from her crouched position.

“Yes, Your Grace. He’s down in the lower pasture. Seein’ as he was workin’ on the house most of yesterday, he felt that he should check on the ewes this mornin’.”