"No need for that." Crouching, Marianne met the little girl's gaze straight on. With a gentle hand, she removed the thumb that had found its way back into Polly's mouth. "You are right, dear. Iamsad. But I do believe that will change, now that you are all here."
Polly's slow grin lit up her small face, and Marianne's breath stuttered. Heavens, did all the Kents have such heart-stopping smiles?
"I think so too," the little girl confided. "Actually, Iknewit the moment I saw your—"
"Let's not hold her ladyship up," Emma interrupted in an oddly nervous manner. "She has to help Ambrose pry Father out of the carriage."
Harry strode over, taking Polly's hand. "Come on, sis. I'll bet they have some milk for you… er, don't you, Mr. Lugo?"
Lugo inclined his head gravely. "I think we can find some, sir."
"I'll help with the children," Helena chimed in. "You go on ahead, Marianne."
Bemused, Marianne went outside to see what surprises awaited her next.
* * *
"Time is money, guv, and mine don't come cheap." The hackney driver's boot tapped against the perch. "Either get the old man out or I will."
"Just give us a minute." Ambrose fought his mounting frustration. Bending his head back through the carriage door, he said, "Father, you cannot stay in there. All the children are inside. You want to join them, don't you?"
His father scowled at him from the depths of the carriage, yet Ambrose could see fear in the faded eyes. Until recent years, Samuel Kent had been fearless in mind and spirit—to see him now, confused and clinging to the carriage strap like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood…
"Didn't want to leave Chudleigh Crest. Why did you make me?" Samuel shouted.
For devil's sake.His patience fraying, Ambrose tried again to explain. "We had no choice, Father. After you nearly burned the cottage down, no one in the village would take you all in. Now come on, we haven't time to waste—"
"Perhaps I can be of assistance?"
Ambrose twisted his neck to see Marianne standing behind him. At the mere sight of her, something eased in his chest. With her platinum hair cascading from a loose topknot and a coral column skimming her elegant figure, she looked too damned lovely to be real. But it was more than her beauty that bolstered him: it was her unflappable expression. As if she didn't find this latest calamity with his family the least bit unusual or distasteful. As if she wouldn't turn away from him because of it—the way Jane had.
Yearnings crept over him. Irrational desires that he was having more and more difficulty keeping at bay. Christ, he wanted Marianne—and not just for a tumble or two. He wanted her by his side and in his bed, wanted hers to be the face that took him into his dreams at night, the first he saw when he awoke…
But what the bloody hell do you have to offer her? You're a policeman who cannot support his own family. And you can't even give her the truth, for God's sake.
His hand clenched on the carriage door.
"Are we gettin' on with things or not?" the driver grumbled.
Marianne tossed the cantankerous fellow a coin, the glinting arc landing precisely in the driver's black glove. "That should cover your time—and your mouth, I should hope."
The man scowled, then turned his gaze forward and fell silent.
"One thing taken care of," Marianne said. "Now, Kent, if you'll hand me up?"
After a brief hesitation, Ambrose did as she asked. She took a seat next to his father.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Kent." The timbre of her voice was gentle, lulling, with none of her usual acerbity. By Jove, what man could resist that siren's call?
Not his father, apparently. Samuel peered at her with interest. "Who are you?"
"Marianne Sedgwick," she said, omitting her title. "I have the pleasure of hosting you and your family in London."
Samuel's expression darkened. "Don't want to be in London. Never wanted to leave the village and damn my boy for making us leave our home!"
Ambrose gripped the doorframe in frustration. He understood his father's anxiety, but when Samuel got into this state of mind, there was no bloody reasoning with him…
"Your son only wants what is best," Marianne said in the same, soothing tone, "and that means coming into the house. The children are already inside. Emma has arranged a room for you. One that overlooks the garden—I'm told you like roses."
