“How do you know?” Violet pushed.
“Well, while I was in Miss Wickersham's study…”
“On the naughty chair…” Violet added.
Poppy shot her a look before continuing. “Nurse Lister came and Miss Wickersham stepped into the hall to talk to her. And my bottom was awfully sore from sitting for so long.”
“On the naughty chair!” Violet said with a grin.
“Hush, Violet,” Lily said. “She'll never get the story out if you don’t stop interrupting. Besides, it is rude.” She glanced toward the large building that was their home. “Garland will be here soon.”
Violet pantomimed locking her lips and throwing away the key.
“I stood up, just for a minute, to stretch a bit and there it was, right on top of Miss Wickersham's desk, on the fanciest paper I've ever seen. From the Duke of Norwich! He said he'd like a proper young lady to be his Little girl and his wife!”
The others, including Marigold, gasped. “A duchess,” she whispered.
Chapter Two
The girls were still chattering about the Duke of Norwich and which of them Miss Wickersham would select to be his bride when Garland stomped out and told them it was time to gather their things and go inside.
Her mind reeling, Marigold volunteered to gather flowers for the tea table. While the others collected the ribbons and adornments and folded up the blanket, Mari made her way toward the garden, glad to have a few minutes to herself among the beautiful blooms. Mr. Walker did a wonderful job keeping the flowers, vegetables and herbs growing.
Mari retrieved a basket and clippers from the shed and set to work collecting stems to be arranged for their afternoon refreshments.
The Duke of Norwich sought a Little lady for a bride! Marigold was not impressed by titles, having one herself, at least technically. But she had begun to wonder when she might be the beneficiary of one of Miss Wickersham's matches.
When she had first arrived, in the dead of night and not even sure where she was being taken, all Mari had cared about was being far away from London and the Earl of Flemmington, her cousin's betrothed. He had been far too attentive to Mari, to putit mildly. Thoughts of him and his leering gaze and roving hands still made her shudder. The idea of spending time with any man had caused her to break out into a cold sweat.
But lately, particularly with two more marriages in recent weeks, Marigold had begun to hope for a husband, and a papa, of her very own. A man specially selected by Miss Wickersham to be a loving and caring spouse to his little bride.
The prospect of being a valued member of a family was nearly more than Mari could imagine for herself. But with time and healing at Talcott House, she was beginning to believe such a fantastic match could be in her future. More than anything, she wanted to be part of a family.
But, a duke? That seemed far beyond the realm of possibilities for someone like Mari. All she cared about was feeling safe. And loved. If her husband was an honest merchant, she would be more than satisfied, though she doubted if the local butcher could afford the sponsorship that Miss Wickersham demanded of the Papas of her girls. Mari did not know how much, but according to Poppy, who spent a fair amount of time in the naughty chair and had an uncanny ability to ferret out information while being punished, the men who engaged Miss Wickersham’s services in finding a bride were expected to support Talcott House ongoingly.
All of these thoughts were most distracting to Mari as she set about her task of collecting flowers.
She caught movement from the corner of her eye and glanced over to see a bunny in a cage.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Mari said, setting aside the flowers and crouching down to poke her finger through a space in the wires that created the cage. She rubbed her finger over the bunny’s back, amazed at how soft it was.
Why was the bunny in a cage? Was it someone’s pet? No, it didn’t appear to be a pet.
No doubt, Mr. Walker the head gardener had set the trap to capture the rabbits who liked to eat the plants he worked so hard to cultivate.
The bunny looked at her with its big eyes, pleading for help.
Mari was fond of Mr. Walker. He was most kind as well as being very good at his job. She did not want to do anything to make him angry.
On the other hand, the bunny was looking at her…
Before she could talk herself out of it, Mari grabbed the clippers she’d been using to cut flowers and made some snips in the wires of the cage. Then she pushed the wires apart until the bunny was able to hop away.
In an attempt to hide her crime, Mari pulled the cut wires together and in the process, she scraped her finger.
“Blast and damnation!” she hissed, shaking her hand and noting blood staining her new gloves. She tugged off the glove and examined her finger. There was a scrape on her finger and it hurt. A soft moan escaped her lips and she stared at the jagged cut on the side of her finger.
“Those are some big words for a little girl,” a firm, masculine voice said, startling her. Mari looked up into eyes the color of the morning sky. The man to whom they belonged stood tall and gazed down at her with a steady, but not unfriendly, gaze. “I am sure Miss Wickersham does not condone such language from her girls.”
