“Thank you, Mrs. Benson.”
The housekeeper squeezed her shoulder again before she left. It had surprised Sabrina to find that the staff were just as kind and welcoming as their master and mistress had been to Sabrina. That would not always be the case in other homes. Governesses were notoriously mistreated. They were neither abovestairs nor below and therefore did not belong fully to either world. She would sometimes sit with the family at dinner, but often as not she would dine with Isla, or the staff upon other occasions. She could partake in some activities, but only so long as she was tending to Isla, and since Isla was so young, it was unlikely she would spend much of her time with the adults.
After Sabrina had bathed and dressed, she found her tiny charge in the nursery.
“Miss Isla, are you ready to go outside?” she asked.
The little imp grinned and nodded, her russet curls bouncing. “Is Papa going to play with us?”
“I’m not sure, sweetheart. He has to be with the adults. But if we’re lucky, he may let us join them.”
“To play grown-up things?” the girl asked.
“Yes, exactly. Someday you will play them too.” She hugged the girl, and Isla giggled again.
“Come on, then.” She stood and clasped Isla’s hand in hers. They left the nursery and climbed down the grand staircase just as Rafe was coming down the corridor.
“My darling.” He knelt and opened his arms to Isla, who broke free of Sabrina’s hold and rushed toward him.
Sabrina couldn’t contain her smile. It had become clear over the past months she’d spent with them that Rafe truly adored his adopted child.
“How is the little scamp faring?” Rafe asked.
“Very well. We are practicing our letters, aren’t we?” Sabrina was always sure to include Isla in the conversation. The girl gave a shy but proud nod to Rafe.
“There’s my girl,” he praised. “A woman who reads is already in control of half the world. Isn’t that right, Miss Talleyrand?”
“Yes, you are absolutely correct.” Rafe had been insistent that his daughter be educated in all the ways that a boy would. No subjects were to be left out. Sabrina had to confess that she wasn’t fully proficient in a few of the subjects, such as the sciences. She was doing her best to educate herself now that she had access to resources, but she worried that when the time came, Isla might need a more advanced tutor.
“Well, we’re going to have a busy day. Miss Talleyrand, would you mind remaining present when Isla’s with me during the party?”
She grinned at once. “Of course.” It would likely be uncomfortable to be so exposed to the rest of the guests on a social level being unequal to theirs. Still, their hosts, Zehra and Lawrence Russell, had been incredibly warm and welcoming. Perhaps the other guests would be as well.
“Did you have an enjoyable ride?” Rafe asked as the three of them walked into the drawing room.
“I did, but poor Celeste became trapped in a muddy bog. I feared I might never get her out.”
Rafe’s cheery temperament vanished, and concern sharpened his features. “Christ, is the horse all right?”
“We’re both all right. A neighbor of Mr. Russell’s happened by and rescued Celeste.”
“Oh? Was it Lord Rutland? He is a friend of mine. I know he enjoys riding and would likely have encountered you since his land borders Lawrence’s.”
“It was his steward. He was quite the gentleman.”
Rafe set Isla on the settee beside him. “Oh? I haven’t met the fellow.”
Sabrina sat opposite them in a chair. “What does Mr. Russell have planned for today?”
“I believe once the rest of the guests arrive, it will be croquet and a picnic.” He tugged one of Isla’s curls. “What do you think, sweetheart? You’ve never been to a picnic.”
“What is a picnic?” Isla asked with adorable seriousness.
“Well, let’s see. A group of people sit about on some grassy hillside and admire the beautiful countryside. They eat tiny little sandwiches, perhaps a strawberry or two, and drink some punch. Then they lounge about some more. You, however, may run about to pluck wildflowers on the hillside or do whatever you wish.”
“That sounds fun, doesn’t it, Isla?” Sabrina asked. The girl nodded and smiled.
The drawing room door opened, and Lawrence Russell strolled in. The man was tall, with dark-red hair and hazel eyes, with the same handsomeness that had been gifted to all the Russell children. He struck a fine figure in cream-colored trousers and a dark-blue waistcoat. His wife, Zehra, had confided in her that she had been stunned by seeing so many attractive siblings in one family.
