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He looked at her then, narrowing his eyes, as though trying to see inside her head and determine whether she really meant what she said. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he leaned her way, sagging against her.

She dared to hook an arm loosely around him, and he rested his head on her shoulder. He smelled of dirt and clean sweat and she ached to grab him hard and close and never let him go.

“I hate boarding school. I’m only almost nine. Most of the boys my age there are day boys. I have to live in a house where everyone is older and they treat me like a baby. Why can’t I stay at Hartmore with you and Rafe and Great-Granny? Why can’t I go to the village school and have my tutor back until I’m at least thirteen like Uncle Rafe was when he went away? Or even go to St Anselm’s in Bakewell, like the Terrible Twins?” He meant Dennis and Dexter, Fiona Bryce-Pemberton’s ten-year-old sons. “Why can’t I just wait to go away until I’m old enough to attend St Paul’s?”

“Because you are very smart, that’s why. And it’s important for you to get the best education possible.”

“St Anselm’s is one of the top prep schools in the country. It’s not fair. Mum just wants to get rid of me.”

Even Genny, who was no fan of Brooke’s, didn’t believe that. Brooke was self-absorbed and a hopeless drama queen, but she loved her son. She just didn’t know how to deal with him. “No, your mother does not want to get rid of you. Your mother wants the very best for you and your new school is the very best.”

“I hate it.”

“Well, then, you will have to find ways to learn to like it.”

“I will never be able to do that.”

“Yes, you will. Also, I know it must seem that you’ll never get home, but doesn’t the summer term end soon?”

“No. It’s forever. It’s practically a whole month.”

“Well, a month may seem like forever now, but it will pass. You’ll be home for all of July and August, here, with us. I’ll be looking forward to that.”

“All the boys are awful. I don’t have any friends.”

“Well, then, you will find a way to make some.”

“Making friends takes effort,” said a deep voice from the ridge above them. “But you can do it.”

“Uncle Rafe!” Geoffrey jumped up, so happy to see Rafe that he forgot to be angry.

Looking much too big and manly for Genny’s peace of mind, Rafe hobbled his Belgian Black gelding and came down the slope to them. His gaze found hers—and then they both looked away, to Geoffrey, who stared at Rafe with mingled guilt and adoration. Rafe knew what to do. He held out his arms.

With a cry, Geoffrey flung himself forward. Rafe scooped him up, hugged him and then put him down again. They both dropped to the ground, Geoffrey on Genny’s left, Rafe on Geoffrey’s other side.

Rafe took out a cell phone and called the house. “Yes, hullo, Frances.” Frances Tuttington served as housekeeper for the East Wing. She took care of the family. “Will you tell my sister we’ve found him?...Gen did, yes.” He gave her a quick nod and she felt absurdly gratified. He spoke into the phone again. “He’s fine. He’s well. We’re at the castle....Yes. We’ll be heading back there soon.” He put the phone away.

Geoffrey was looking sulky again. “I mean it. I don’t want to go back.”

“We can see that,” Rafe answered gently. “But you will, won’t you? For me? For Gen? For yourself, most of all.”

Geoffrey groaned and looked away.

Rafe said, “You know, I hated school myself when they first sent me away.”

“But you were older.”

“I was, yes, a little. But still, I hated it. Until I started realizing that I could learn things there I couldn’t learn at Hartmore.”

“I like science class,” Geoffrey grudgingly admitted. “I don’t much care for cricket. But aikido is interesting.”

“Ah,” said Rafe. “And you wouldn’t be studying aikido at the village school, now, would you?”

Geoffrey picked up a twig and poked at the mossy ground with it. “Did you...make friends at St Paul’s?”

“Not at first. I was sure they all hated me and I was determined to hate them right back.”

“Yes,” Geoffrey muttered. “Exactly.”

“But then I found out that some of them missed home as much as I did. I found out that they were a lot like me.” He chuckled low. “Or at least, more like me than I had thought at first. It worked itself out. By second term, I got on well enough. I even made a lifelong friend or two during my years at school....”

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