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“How very charming of you, Nephew,” the Dowager said, drawing everyone’s attention to them, and Elizabeth flushed.
The Dowager’s keen gaze moved to Rhys, and his expression shifted slightly toward displeasure. He looked down at Irene and said, “Shall I show you the bookstore?”
“Oh, yes.” Irene beamed. “I would love to have a new book to read on our journey to London.”
“You may also choose any book you like from my library,” Rhys said, stirring her toward the bookstore. Miles briefly regarded Irene and Rhys with something akin to displeasure on his face, but the look disappeared before Elizabeth could comment on it. She found it rather odd, though.
A while later, they found the oak tree near the center of the village with blankets and food already laid out by the footmen that had come with them. One of them was playing with Brutus, but the instant the dog saw Elizabeth, he ran to her. She tenderly stroked his head and found a place to sit where he would not disturb the rest of the party, and predictably, Miles joined her.
Elizabeth discovered that she was having a pleasant time here, but at that instant, Brutus leaped up from his repose beside her and ran after a butterfly. She grew nervous while the Dowager laughed and watched the dog. She stopped laughing when Brutus returned with mud covering his paws, and before Elizabeth or any of the footmen could stop him, he had jumped onto Rhys, soiling his buff breeches and coat. Rhys was too shocked to speak.
“Well,” the Dowager said, “this is unfortunate.”
“You should not have brought him along.” Clarice gave Elizabeth a reproving look. Elizabeth quickly gained her feet and tried to pick Brutus up. He soiled her dress before slipping from her arms and running toward a nearby apple cart and jumping onto it. One side of the cart tipped under his weight, and the apples rolled out with Brutus falling and rolling too. She only stared now, knowing she would be blamed for the ruined picnic.
“We should go,” Rhys said, but he did not sound displeased. He was looking up at the darkening sky when Elizabeth glanced at him.
“Yes,” her father agreed with him, “we should.”
Elizabeth sighed and went to the toppled apple cart to pick Brutus up, but Miles was already there, and the dog was happily eating an apple from his hand. Rhys and her father apologized to the owner of the cart and offered to repay what he had lost. When she noticed that the Dowager was smiling, she felt her shoulders relax. She might not blame Elizabeth because she adored Brutus.
* * *
“Who is it?” Rhys asked when the butler, Webster, informed him about a caller upon their return from Cullfield.
“Mrs. Norton, My Lord,” Webster replied.
“I will see her shortly. I must first make myself presentable.”
“Of course, My Lord.” Rhys rushed up to his chambers, and Chaplin was horrified to discover that Brutus had yet again made things difficult for him. Once Rhys had washed his hands and face and changed his clothes, he went to his study and asked for Mrs. Norton to be sent in.
She walked in with a pleasant smile and sat in front of his desk after they had exchanged greetings. “I was told you would not be here for long, so I came to tell you how the children are faring.”
Rhys smiled. “Yes, I plan to visit them before I return to London. How are they?”
“They are happy and warm, My Lord,” Mrs. Norton answered with a bright smile. “They will be excited to see you, I am sure.”
“Give my regards to them when you return.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out an envelope which he held out to her.
“Thank you, My Lord,” she said, accepting the envelope. “These children want for nothing thanks to your generous heart. Mr. Hayward told me about your recent, very generous, donation to the Foundling Hospital in London.”
Rhys frowned. “When was this donation made?”
“Last week, I believe,” Mrs. Norton answered.
“I did not make any donation last week, Mrs. Norton,” he replied.
“Well, I suppose he is mistaken. It is easy to believe an anonymous donation would come from you because you have been our benefactor for years.”
Rhys smiled. “It would appear you have a new benefactor.” They talked about the children under her care for a while before she took her leave, and no sooner had Rhys been left alone than his grandmother walked into the study.
“I am pleased with your interactions with Lady Irene today,” she commented. “You were both charming and attentive.” Rhys leaned back in his chair and regarded her, waiting patiently for the question he knew she was going to ask.
“When do you intend to propose to her?”
“When I am certain she is the right woman to be my Marchioness,” he replied.
“How long will it take you to decide?” the Dowager asked impatiently.
