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“Very well, thank you,” he said with a bow. “I am Lord Winton and have been invited to take luncheon with the Jennings family this afternoon.”
“I am Miss Mary Jennings, and this is my little sister Annabel,” the older girl said. “I have two other sisters and two brothers as well. But I am the eldest.”
“I am happy to make your acquaintance,” Ben said, amused by the girl.
“I’m Annabel,” the younger girl said, moving a bit closer to her older sister.
Ben bowed to her. “How do you do, Miss Annabel?” he said with all of the seriousness he could muster.
“I’m well, thank you,” Annabel said, although a few of her fingers found their way into her mouth.
Ben was charmed by these two young misses, but beyond that, he refused to contemplate or allow his mind to be drawn to baby Rose. Today, he was to play the affable neighbor and maintain a proper distance—both physically and emotionally—from the Jennings family and especially from Rebecca, for both their sakes.
“Ah, Mr. Fortescue,” Hawkins said on approach, taking in Ben’s little hostesses. “I see you have been well received already.”
“Indeed, I have,” Ben said.
“His name isn’t Mr. Fortescue,” Mary said with surprising authority to the butler. “He said he was Lord Winton. Didn’t you?” she turned a questioning eye on Ben.
So did Hawkins, with a raised eyebrow.
Ben sighed. “’Tis true, Hawkins. If you hadn’t discovered that little fact about me already, I’m sure you would have soon enough. Earl of Winton, at your service.”
“Do the others—”
“Yes, they know,” Ben said.
“Snow was right, then,” Hawkins said, mostly to himself. “I thought he invented the whole thing, going on about Mr. Arnold’s great-nephew and such. I’m not one to hold to gossip.”
“Please come with Annabel and me, Lord Winton,” Mary said, obviously tiring of the conversation. “Everyone is already in the garden, and the boys want to have a game of blind man’s buff.”
“And I’m hungry!” Annabel added.
“Er . . . my lord . . . allow me . . .” Hawkins stumbled over his words.
Ben had never seen the Alderwood butler flustered before. “I appear to be in capable hands, Hawkins,” he said. “No need to fret.”
“Thank you, my . . . Lord Winton,” Hawkins said, bowing formally.
“Lead the way, Miss Mary, Miss Annabel,” Ben said to his escorts.
Annabel surprised him by taking his hand. She beamed up at him. “Cook told Mama that we’re having currant cakes for dessert!” Apparently, she’d gotten over her initial shyness. She skipped along beside him while Mary led the way to the garden, even though Ben knew the way.
“I’m the eldest of all my cousins,” Miss Mary said as she looked back at Ben. “There are eleven of us right now, although Aunt Isobel is going to have another baby soon, and when Aunt Susan gets married, she’ll have babies, and so will Aunt Rebecca when she gets married. Mama says Uncle James and Uncle Simon could have babies, too, when they get married, although I suppose it would really be their wives who have the babies. And Papa says he wonders if his rake of a little brother will ever marry, so maybe Uncle Simon won’t have any babies after all. I love babies. Do you?”
It seemed that Mary was something of a chatterbox. “Babies are delightful,” he said, not entirely meaning it. His thoughts of Rose returned with a vengeance, and a pit formed in his stomach.
“I can hardly wait for Aunt Isobel to have her new baby,” Mary continued. “She promised me that I can hold the baby since I’m the eldest and I am very responsible.”
“I can hold the baby,” Annabel said with a scowl.
“Only if you are extremely careful and Aunt Isobel or Mama or one of our other aunties is with you. You are still too little,” Mary said.
“I can hold the baby,” Annabel muttered a second time under her breath.
Ben gave her little hand a squeeze. “Do you like currant cakes?” he asked her, hoping to turn the conversation away from babies.
Annabel beamed up at him. “They are my favorite!” she said, talk of babies instantly forgotten, at least for the moment.
