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“Will you be having tea in the drawing room, madam?”

“I believe I will visit the nursery, Slope.”

“Perhaps you will find Lady Henrietta there as well,”

Slope said rather frigidly. It didn’t suit his sense of decorum to find grown people frequenting the nursery. Children belonged in the nursery, and adults belonged in the drawing room. Mr. Darby had appeared to be a model of decorum 150 Eloisa

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when he first arrived at the house. But he had developed a distressing tendency to wander up to the nursery in an odd moment.

“Shall I request that the children join you for tea in the parlor, madam?” That was much more acceptable, to his mind.

“I shall ask them myself, Slope.”

He shook his head as he watched Lady Rawlings make her way up the stairs. He didn’t care for newfangled notions. And visiting the nursery—well, if that wasn’t newfangled, what was?

Besides the idea of Mrs. Slope improving herself, that is.

< 19 =

My Brother Simon

“I came to apologize to you, Josie.”

Josie looked up, speechless. No one ever apologized to her. It was always the other way around.

But there was Lady Henrietta, hands clasped in front of her, looking quite anxious and guilty. If Josie had been able to visualize such a thing, the look on Lady Henrietta’s face was quite close to that often seen on Josie’s.

“I should never, ever have thrown that glass of water on your head. I lost my temper.”

Josie knew all about losing her temper. That was what their old nursemaid, Nurse Peeves, used to do, and then she’d scold Josie for making her lose that temper. Moreover, Nurse Peeves said Josie herself had the temper of a devil, and a disposition to match. So Josie backed up, cautiously, in case Lady Henrietta felt like smacking her for being so naughty. After a moment, Josie still hadn’t said anything because she didn’t understand what she was supposed to say. Lady Henrietta bent down and said, “I know that I insulted you terribly, Josie. Will you forgive me?”

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Josie thought about it. “I have a temper too,” she offered, adding rather uncertainly, “my lady.”

Lady Henrietta’s smile made Josie feel warm all the way to the pit of her stomach. “How generous of you to tell me. Will you call me Henrietta? I do think that people who share terrible tempers should be on a first-name basis.” She looked around the room, which was brightly painted with baby ducks. Esme had obviously had it refurbished in anticipation of her baby’s birth. “This is a nice nursery, isn’t it? Do you like it here?”

Josie nodded vigorously. Life had improved considerably for Miss Josephine Darby since her brother brought them to visit their aunt Esme.

“Nanny is lovely.” Aunt Esme’s nanny smelled like cinnamon toast a good deal, which was Josie’s favorite smell. “She doesn’t mind Anabel spitting up.”

“That is a sign of true nobility, don’t you think?” Henrietta agreed.

“And my brother Simon comes to visit. He never visited me when we lived in the country. This morning he played soldiers with me!”

Simon? Henrietta thought. I’d forgotten that Darby’s first name was Simon.

Lady Henrietta looked a little odd, and Josie thought perhaps she didn’t believe her. “He knelt just here,” she said, pointing so that Lady Henrietta knew exactly where it happened, “and he showed me how to make battalions, and line up my soldiers. Then he got a little peevish—that was what Nanny called it—because the floor put streaks on his knees, but now I know how to make battalions on my own. Aunt Esme came to play as well, but she can’t kneel because her stomach gets in the way.”

Henrietta shook off a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Esme’s belly and smiled at the little girl before her. It was uncanny how much she looked like her older brother. “Did you Fool for Love

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know that your hair is the exact color of the leaves in autumn, Josie?”