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“Butyoulooked like you were going to hit the mean lady.”
“Your father would never hit a woman,” Donella said firmly. “No matter how nasty she might be.”
Joseph rolled his eyes. “I know that. I just said it looked like he wanted to.”
Logan felt like an utter worm. “Mrs. Ferguson doesn’t like the Kendricks, and she makes a point of showing it. But I shouldn’t have lost my temper, either.”
“Why doesn’t she like us?”
“It has to do with Uncle Royal and Auntie Ainsley,” he said vaguely. “Mrs. Ferguson kicked up some mean talk when they got married.”
“Oh,” Joseph said. “You mean because Uncle Royal pretended to be Tira’s real father, even though he isn’t.”
“What?” Donella blurted out.
Too late, Logan remembered that she’d been sequestered in her convent during that particular family debacle.
He shook his head at Donella, trying to warn her away from impending danger.
Joseph, however, had no compunctions about sharing. “Auntie Ainsley’s fiancé put a baby in her tummy when he wasn’t supposed to. But he wasn’t a nice man, so Auntie Ainsley gave Tira to Uncle Royal, who pretended to be her father. But then they got married, so Uncle Royal now really is Tira’s father. So it’s all fine.”
Logan winced at the stunned expression on Donella’s face. “Ah, I don’t think this is an appropriate topic of conversation, son.”
Joseph glanced up at him. “Which part?”
“All of it.”
The boy looked perplexed for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Papa,everyoneknows how babies are made, probably even Donella.”
The woman in question pressed a hand to her lips, trying to stifle a laugh.
“You know, for an almost-nun, you’re not very well behaved,” said Logan.
“I suppose that’s why they kicked me out of the convent.”
Joseph let out a dramatic sigh. “I wish I knew why they did that. I bet it was for something jolly, like putting salt in the sugar bowls.”
“Or something truly naughty,” Logan said, getting his revenge. “After all, thisisa woman who goes around tipping over tables in sweet shops.”
Donella shot him an evil glare but refrained from rising to the bait.
As they crossed the square that fronted Kendrick House, the wind swirled around their feet and sent dried leaves scudding in front of them. The chill in the air hinted at an end to the mild weather. Joseph might get some snow in time for Christmas, after all.
Donella ushered the boy up the marble steps and reached for the door knocker.
“No need,” Logan said, fishing in his pocket. “I’ve got a key.”
He stood a step below her, breathing in the faint, lemony scent of her hair. The russet curls were only partly confined by her small hat. Pale skin, dusted with freckles, peeked above the collar of her pelisse. Logan had to fight the urge to lean in and kiss her there, convinced she would taste delicious, like a creamy lemon tart.
“Papa, are you going to kiss Donella?” Joseph was peering up at him, wide-eyed.
Good God.
Before he could issue a denial, Donella jumped as if he’d just goosed her arse. She turned around and gave him a stare cold enough to freeze his bollocks.
“Certainly not,” she said tersely. “The key, Mr. Kendrick.”
Logan meekly handed it over. She unlocked the door and propelled Joseph inside.
