The boy glanced at her down the length of his nose. "If that were the case, Vi, why couldn't you solve that simple maths problem I posed on the way over?"
"There is more to life than maths problems, drat you," Vi said, her hands planting on her slim hips. "Let's see which of us can climb Mr. McGregor's tree the fastest—"
"Stop it, you two." A petite sister with oak-colored hair came between them. "We're guests, remember? We're supposed to be on our best…" she broke off, coughing.
The bickering stopped. "Are you alright, Thea?" the battling pair said as one.
"Fine," their sister said between wheezing breaths. "'Twas the dust... of the journey…"
"You're here! I've been waiting for you all day." A beaming Emma flew down the stairs, her dark hair streaming behind her. "Vi, do help Thea with her cloak. Harry, help Polly with hers. And Polly you know better than to have your thumb in your mouth. Now where are Father and Ambrose?"
Marianne watched with amusement—and not a little amazement—as the siblings fell in line. To a certain extent, that was.
"Father doesn't want to get out of the hackney. You know how he gets about anything new. Ambrose is trying to coax him." Harry's forehead creased as he worked on the strings of his little sister's garment. "Christ's blood, Polly, a sailor couldn't tie knots like you."
"You oughtn't use the Lord's name in vain," Violet said.
"Bloody hell, then."
"Harry," Thea said with mild reproof.
Emma sighed. "Perhaps I should go help Ambrose."
"I'll do it," Marianne said.
Five pairs of eyes turned to her. If she hadn't already been used to Ambrose's intense regard, the impact of those bright, inquisitive gazes would have been rather unsettling.
"Oh, Lady Draven! I didn't see you there. Good afternoon," Emma said, dropping a curtsy. "If I may present my sisters Dorothea, Violet, and Polly, and my brother Harry?"
Emma shot a look at her siblings, who took the hint. The girls bent their knees, and Harry presented a surprisingly proper leg.
"Welcome, all of you," Marianne said. "This is my friend, the Marchioness of Harteford."
"How lovely to meet you, children," Helena said, smiling. "Is this your first visit to London?"
They all nodded. Polly's thumb crept back toward her mouth.
"I am sure you will enjoy yourselves thoroughly. Perhaps you'd care to freshen up and have some refreshment?" Ever the mother hen, Helena raised her brows at Marianne.
"I'm positively starved. There hasn't been much food late—oof." Violet grunted, rubbing her side where Emma had discreetly elbowed her. "What did you do that for?"
"Mind your manners. We have already inconvenienced Baroness Draven enough as it is," Emma said between her teeth.
"I assure you, 'tis no inconvenience. And let us dispense with the formalities—it will be entirely tiresome to keep all the Miss Kents and Mr. Kents straight. In return, call me Marianne." She turned to her waiting manservant. "Lugo, please see to it that our guests have what they need. In the meantime, I shall see what I can do about the two outside."
She headed to the door. As she passed by the line of children, she felt a tug on her skirts. Polly was gazing shyly up at her.
Marianne's heart melted a little. "Yes, poppet?"
In an otherwise plain face, the little girl's aquamarine eyes glowed with startling acuity. "You're even prettier than theshandy-leer," she said.
"Why, thank you, dear."
Polly tipped her head to the side. "But why are you just as sad?"
Marianne's smile faded.
"I'm ever so sorry, Lady—I mean, Marianne." Emma's hands clamped onto her sister's shoulders. "I should have warned you about Polly. She can say the most outrageous things, but she doesn't mean anything by them." She turned to her youngest sibling, whose bottom lip had begun to quiver. "Now you apologize to her ladyship straightaway."
