“I hope so.”
A bee lazily buzzed from blossom to blossom. Birdsong filled the air, and the musical trickling of the fountain filled Felicity with a calmness she sorely needed. She resettled herself more comfortably on the cushioned wrought-iron chair. “Do you think poor Walters will remember we are out here? Fipps was not with him when we asked to have breakfast here in the garden.”
Their dear, aging butler grew worse every day, but none of them had the heart to force him to leave his post. Instead, Chance had hired Mr. Fipps as ajuniorbutler to help keep Walters focused. At first, the elder butler had sulked and fought the new young gentleman. But finally, he’d grudgingly accepted Fipps’s guidance and help.
“Fipps is never far, and the man has the hearing of an owl,” Merry said. “Or so says Mrs. Flackney.”
The rattle of a tea cart on the flagstones attested to Merry’s words. Fipps was pushing it with Walters ambling along behind it, following the junior butler like a devoted old hound.
“Tea and chocolate, Lady Felicity?” Fipps asked.
“Of course she wants tea and chocolate,” Walters growled in his gravelly voice. “She always does. Lady Felicity loves her tea and chocolate first thing each morning. Just pour it, man, or get out of my way, and I shall do it.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Walters,” Fipps said. “You are quite right.” He took a step back, his expression stoic, but kindness and compassion shone in his eyes.
For once, Felicity was proud of her brother for his caring nature regarding Walters, and for his determination in finding the perfecthelperin Mr. Fipps. Walters might be slipping with age, but he had served them forever and deserved every bit of dignity that could be offered. He poured the tea and chocolate, spilling only a little because of the constant tremor in his arthritis-torn hands.
“Thank you, Walters. Thank you, Fipps. That will be all.” Felicitysmiled at them both and gave Fipps a nod of appreciation.
“Chance found the perfect helper in Fipps,” Merry said as soon as the men were well out of hearing distance. “Good on him.”
“He did indeed, and I am not surprised.” Felicity took a sip of the rich, decadent chocolate and almost purred. “For once, I am proud of our brother for his diligence and over-attention to detail. He interviewed quite a few before settling on Fipps.”
“Well, he owes Walters his life. Remember the time Walters pulled him from the pond when Chance’s legs cramped so badly he couldn’t make it back to shallow water? Walters didn’t hesitate to jump in and save him.”
Felicity nodded and dipped a corner of her toast into her coddled egg, swirling it in the liquid gold of the yolk. “I remember we all were sent to the nursery without our supper because we threw Chance’s favorite wooden sword in that pond, and that is what he was after.”
“And we were advised never to try to kill our brother again because he was to be the next duke.” Merry giggled as she cut into a kipper. “We weren’t trying to kill him—merely disarm him.”
Felicity laughed. “I think that is why Mama and Papa were so angry not only with us but also with Chance, because he had other swords he could have retrieved from the playroom.”
Merry nodded. “Seems like I do remember Chance receiving hugsandlectures about finding a bit of good sense and using his head for something other than a hat rack.”
“I miss those days.”
“So do I.” Merry sighed, finished her kipper, then dipped a strip of toast into her egg cup. “So, are you going to stay out of the kitchens long enough to meet this new Earl of Wakefield?”
“I already met him.” Felicity pushed her plate away and poured herself another cup of chocolate. This conversation required it.
Merry stared at her for a long moment. “When?”
“Last night.”
“Where?”
“In the kitchen.”
“In the kitchen?”
“He arrived late to the party, thereby missing dinner, and the vicar and Lady Urnstall had already emptied the refreshment table.” Felicity shrugged, but it was more of a shiver brought on by the memory of the handsome earl.
“You are blushing clear to your toes,” Merry said. She refilled her tea, then leaned forward with the cup balanced between her hands. “Tell me every bit. Every word. Leave nothing out. What does he look like? How does he act? Did you like him, or is he a groveling fool?”
“He is very handsome.”
“How handsome?”
“The broadest shoulders. My goodness, he filled the doorway when he entered the kitchen. Dark hair. The kindest eyes. And a crooked little smile that says he knows he is handsome, but he is not haughty at all.”
