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West slapped his hand down on the table, making the ale mugs jitter and jump. “It’ll be like old times, eh? You used to be such a rakehell before...” He glanced at Edgar’s lame knee and then closed his mouth abruptly. “Come with me to the opera tonight. Forget about the governess. What you need is a mistress.”
“First of all, I’m not thinking about the governess, so I don’t need to forget her. Second, I’m far too busy with steam engines for songbirds.”
“Suit yourself.” West leaned back in his chair. He gave Edgar’s nether regions a significant glance. “But if it withers away and falls off don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“No chance of that.” His anatomy was in exemplary working order.
Far too exemplary when it came to thoughts of redheaded governesses.
Chapter 5
Mari was determined to give the children enough physical exercise to render them quiet and peaceful enough to please even the most demanding of dukes. If the children were walking by her side, they weren’t running away.
Armed with a guidebook and a map, she’d marched them across London, stopping at all of the sights. She was tired, but the twins were near exhausted.
Their shoulders were beginning to droop, and their steps to drag.
“Isn’t it teatime yet, Miss Perkins?” asked Adele.
“Teatime?” she replied. “Why, we haven’t even seen the crown jewels yet, and the guidebook says there are waxworks, and menageries—”
“We’re tired, Miss Perkins.”
“Tired? But I thought you liked exploring London.”
“We do,” said Michel. “Only...”
“You might like some tea and biscuits in your nice house.”
“We’d prefer French bread,” said Adele.
“Why, what’s wrong with good English bread, if you please?” asked Mari.
“Too soft. No crust to speak of,” Adele explained.
“Not long enough either.” Michel shaped an elongated loaf with his hands. “You break off a piece and... mmm.”
“We’ve one last place to visit before we go home,” said Mari, consulting her guidebook. “Westminster Bridge.”
“Who wants to see an old bridge?” asked Michel.
“Tut, tut. I’m quite sure the bridge has no wish to see such a sullen fellow, either. But see it we will.”
They passed the grounds of Westminster Palace and soon they were standing near the entrance to the bridge, watching the carriages and carts rolling by.
“Ah, the Thames,” said Mari, turning her nose up to the late afternoon sun.
“Not very impressive,” scoffed Michel. “Not compared to our seashore near Narbonne.”
“I’ve never seen the seashore. What’s it like?” asked Mari.
“Never seen the sea?” cried Adele.
“Never. I was raised in Derbyshire which is quite landlocked.”
“Well...” Adele bit her lower lip. “The seashore is a mixture of smells and sounds. Salt with sunshine mixed into it. And seagull cries. And grass.”
“Grass tall as me,” said Michel.
