The clock struck nine. She abandoned the sobering thought, threw back her bedcovering, and then rushed to prepare for the day ahead.
Still tucking her hair beneath her cap as she ascended the stairs, she followed the sounds of two rapturous children. When she entered the nursery, two discordant explanations for their joy simultaneously assaulted her ears.
“There now,” Mrs. Small laughed. “Let Mrs. Montrose catch her breath and then you can tell her what the duke has planned—one at a time.”
“Me, first,” Fee said.
“I’mthe eldest,” Delmare insisted.
Hera squelched the argument. “Let me guess—you’re to go on the picnic Uncle Heven had planned for yesterday?”
“Yes,” Fee sulked.
“No, silly,” Delmare rejoined. “Notjusta picnic—anexcursion. I’m to ride the pony.”
“Well!” Hera exclaimed, attempting to sound suitably impressed. “Won’t you look the perfect little gentleman!”
Fee brightened again. “AndI’mto ride with Uncle Heven.”
“Because he doesn’t trust you on the pony,” Delmare said.
Fee stuck out her tongue, then, after catching Hera’s scowl, she pretended as if she only meant to lick her upper lip.
“And what is the destination?” Hera asked.
“We’re going,” Fee replied, “to take the path along Uncle Heven’s stream to a pretty little spot where daisies grow...”
Hera immediately heard “pretty little spot” in the voice of wonder Hurtheven used with the children and smiled.
“...Somany daisies,” Fee continued. “Daisiesmustbe more interesting than that other flower.”
“Other flower?” Hera prompted.
“The one from the place my doll came from.”
“Edelweiss.” She didn’t want to think of the doll. “Daisies are certainly more plentiful,” she added, diplomatically.
She and Mrs. Small combined their talents to bundle Felicia into a coat and sturdy shoes. By the time Delmare, too, had been properly prepared, Hera insisted that the older woman rest while she took them down to meet the duke at the stables.
Hera blinked into the warm, bright sunlight and shook her head bracingly as they crossed the bailey. Daylight Hurtheven, she reminded herself sternly, was not hers.
And yet, even when all she could see of him was the outline of his shadow inside the stable, her heart skipped a beat. And in that same moment, he turned away from his head groom and raised his hand in greeting.
Why, when she locked gazes with him, did the world around them disappear?
“I trust you all slept well.” he said, with a light slap of a riding crop against his hand and an evident twinkle in his eye.
The children sung their yeses. Hera nodded, stifling a yawn.
“Come along,” he held out his hand to Felicia, although his gaze rested warmly on her own. “Your nursemaid is tired. She’s well earned her rest.”
Felicia scowled. “Mrs. Montrose can’t betired. It’s morning!”
Hurtheven crouched down. “But I wager you gave her trouble about that coat, didn’t you?”
Fee ignored the question, holding tight to Hera’s hand. “Can Mrs. Montrose come with us?Please?”
“Oh yes!” Delmare joined in. “You must come, ma’am.”
