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Devonshire, England
THEWINDOWSWEREopen to the morning, the air as still as death, the heat, unusual for this time of year, already rising. There hadn’t been a spot of rain in weeks, and the whole of the Hollyfield estate seemed to plod along under the weight of it.
Joshua Parker, the Duke of Marley, was in his bed, the coverlet kicked to the floor, his nightshirt flung across the room. His hair was damp against the pillow. He was not asleep as much as he was lying still with his eyes closed, wishing for a breeze.
But then he heard singing somewhere in the distance.
His first thought was that it was angels. Mercifully, they’d come for him at last. Or maybe they were singing a mass for his lost soul as he made his way down to Hades. It certainly felt hot enough.
The sound of angels drew closer, and then began to sound less like angels, and more like children.
Children?
What would children be doing at Hollyfield? There was hardly anyone here at all, save his butler, who was, ironically, named Mr. Butler. And Mr. Martin, his valet. And Mrs. Chumley, his cook, and Miss Halsey, the housekeeper with a somewhat frightful countenance, whom he preferred to address by only her last name to save time. Like him, Halsey did not waste time with extra words. And last, but not least, a lone chambermaid whom he would occasionally see flitting between rooms with a feather duster.
But decidedly nochildren.
When Joshua had been married, Hollyfield had been teeming with staff. You couldn’t take a step without bumping into a footman or a chambermaid or a groom. But he’d let most of them go after the duchess had died, because what was the point of all of them then?
The singing drew closer. It annoyed him. For one, the children were not singing in tune. For another, it sounded as if one child was sobbing. And for yet another, one of the children was singing a beat behind the rest of them. What were they singing, a hymn? Who the devil had children singing hymns in the blasted morning?
Joshua sat up and pushed away the damp lock of hair that draped over his eye. The hound at the end of his bed—Merlin—lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at him. Bethan was on the floor, stretched out on his side, his tongue hanging out the side of his snout as he, too, tried to cool off. And Artemis, the cat, was on the windowsill, his back to the scenery, watching Joshua with silent judgment.
Joshua climbed out of his bed and stepped over Bethan to go to the open window. Artemis gracefully leaped from the sill to the floor and walked over Bethan like he was a piece of clothing. Maybe Artemis thought he was—there was much of Joshua’s clothing strewn about. He’d not allowed Mr. Martin into his room yesterday.
The singing stopped. So did the crying. Joshua craned his neck to see down the path that ran along the river. He couldn’t see anyone and scratched his chin as he stepped back from the window. The moment he did, the singing began again. “All creatures of our God and king,” they sang. “Lift up your voice and with us sing. Al-le-luuuuuu-jah.”
Bethan lifted his hind leg and began to vigorously attack an itch on his flank.
Joshua slammed the windows shut. Artemis disappeared under the bed, and Merlin snored on.
“Your Grace?”
Joshua looked around, bleary-eyed. His butler, standing just over the threshold, blinked, then affixed his gaze on the ceiling.
“Thou burning sun with golden gleam,”the children sang, their voices leaking in through the seams of the window.
“Who are those children?” Joshua growled, hands on hips.
“Children?” Butler asked the ceiling.
“Can you not hear them?” For a brief moment, Joshua wondered if perhaps he’d lost his mind. Sometimes it very much felt as if he might have done.
“Ah, yes, I can just hear them,” Butler said.
He was holding a silver tray, Joshua noticed, onto which he had placed a cream-colored envelope. “What’s that?”
“This has come from Iddesleigh, your grace.”
Not again.Beckett Hawke was proving himself to be a bothersome neighbor. “Does no one observe a leisurely morning anymore? Must all the singing of hymns and delivery of the post be done at the crack of dawn?”
Butler tentatively peeled his gaze from the ceiling, but only for a moment, then pinned it to the mantle. What was the matter with him? Joshua looked down. His drawers were standing open and revealing the flaccid means to any future Parkers. Who could think about their state of dress when children were screeching in his ear?
He walked to the end of his bed and tugged his dressing gown from beneath Merlin’s body. He shoved his arms into the sleeves and wrapped it around him. “All right. Give it to me, then,” he said, and held out his hand for the offending envelope.
Butler risked a glance, then came forward in a manner one might approach a sleeping giant. Joshua took the envelope from the tray just as the singing started up again. “What the devil?” He stalked to the window and threw it open again.
There they were.Which meant he’d not lost his mind, because those were very real children, a dozen or so of them. All girls, too, in a dizzy array of pastel pinks and yellows and blues. They were holding hands, two by two, following along behind a gentleman wearing a long black coat and black hat with a wide brim. “What is the meaning of this?” Joshua asked, gesturing heatedly at the girls.
