“I think you’ve frightened her,” Althea whispered.
“I didn’t mean to,” the little girl assured her.
“The mama just wants to protect them,” Althea said gently. Except, these bunnies weren’t exactly young and old enough to venture out on their own. She’d seen smaller ones hopping around on her uncle’s estate without a mother anywhere nearby.
The girl plopped on her bottom.
“At least they still have a mama.”
Oh, dear! It was then that Althea realized that the little girl was wearing black. She’d been near the same age when she also had to wear black for a mother and father.
“Let me take you back to your governess, or nurse, so they don’t worry.” Someone had to be in charge of the girl.
“I don’t have a governess.”
“Are you all alone today?”
“Winifred!” The panicked voice of an adult male called. “Winifred! Where did you go off to?”
“Might you be Winifred?”
The little girl dipped her head in a sheepish manner and gave a quick nod. She had the look of knowing that she was going to be scolded, but no fear of being punished.
Althea stood and held out her hand. “Your father sounds worried.”
Winifred stood and accepted Althea’s hand. “I don’t have a papa either.”
The poor child. But at least someone cared enough to note that she’d gone missing.
Just as they reached the walk, a gentleman came barreling around the corner, nearly colliding with Althea. He quickly steadied her with his hands clasped about her upper arms, the palms branding her skin from the heat. A familiar touch, one imprinted in her memory, and Althea looked up into his concerned eyes. “Major Ambrose?”
He stilled, stared at her as if shocked. Then, as if remembering himself, let go and stepped back. “My apologies.”
He didn’t remember her. Althea had thought and dreamed of him for the remainder of the Season, yet his lack of greeting was as if they’d never met.
The disappointment at being forgotten nearly crushed her heart. She tried to reason with herself that it was quite ridiculous to be in love, or even something as simple as infatuated with a gentleman after so few encounters, except she failed. How could she dismiss her emotions when her entire being seemed to come alive, as if waking from a deep hibernation, when in his presence. As it did just now.
Major Ambrose dropped down to one knee and looked Winifred in the eyes. “You gave me a fright running off like that.”
“I’m sorry Uncle Preston,” Winifred murmured. “But there was a bunny.”
“I gathered as much.” He rubbed the top of her head affectionately. “But you also know better than to run off, especially through a group of strangers who were not expecting to trip over a little girl.”
Althea had never heard him say so much in one sentence.
“I wanted to pet the bunny, but the lady said that I couldn’t.”
He glanced up, his blue eyes darkening. “Thank you, Miss Claywell,” he murmured, then cleared his throat as he stood.
Her heart hammered as his eyes met hers once again. Hedidremember her.
“My uncle isn’t major any longer,” Winifred said sadly, “but Viscount Melcombe.”
The only way in which one gains a title is upon the death of another.
Oh, dear! Why hadn’t she made the connection? Althea recalled Mr. Smith speaking of a nephew who had died unexpectantly, and she knew he hadn’t been speaking of Major Ambrose, as he’d been in London at the time. Now she knew why he’d left, and why he hadn’t returned.
“Thank you for seeing to my niece,” Lord Melcombe stood and held out his hand to Winifred. “We should return to your sisters.”
