He must have moved or made some kind of sound, because the vixen scrambled to her feet, made a yipping sound and in an instant she and her babies had vanished under a thicket of brambles.
“That’s their den,” Tessa told him.“I’ve been watching them ever since the kits were born.Aren’t they sweet?”
“Mmm,” Marcus made a noncommittal sound.The kits were charming, but foxes were vermin, weren’t they?Everyone said so.
“Their mother takes good care of them, doesn’t she?Even though she hurt her leg in that horrid trap, the first thing she did was feed her kits.Have you got a mama?”
He blinked at the abrupt question.“Yes.”
“And you live with your mama and papa?”
“Yes.And my younger brother.”What was she getting at?
“I don’t have a mama.I killed her.”
“Youwhat?Who told you that?”
“My brother Edgar.He said I killed Mama when I was born.He says it’s why Papa doesn’t like me.”
“That’s nonsense, and it was wicked of your brother to say so,” Marcus said forcefully.“Women sometimes die giving birth to babies, but it’s not the baby’s fault, never the baby’s fault.How could it be?”
The little girl gave him a long thoughtful look.Her eyes were almost violet, not simply blue, as he’d first thought, but a deep violet-blue.“I haven’t seen you here before.Why not?What’s your name.”
“Marcus.Marcus Renfrew.I live over at Alverleigh,”—he gestured—“but most of the time I’m away at school.”
“My brothers went away to school, too, but they hardly ever came home.Louis did sometimes, when he could, but not Edgar.He’s like Papa and prefers London.”
Marcus knew both Blaxland boys slightly.He’d only known Edgar— known at school as Blaxland Major—the oldest brother, for a month or two before he left school.He had a reputation as a bully and a gambler who wasn’t above fudging the cards, though nothing had ever been proven.Louis, —Blaxland Minor—was the younger of the two and a year above Marcus.He was quiet and seemed harmless enough.He’d left school at sixteen to go into the army.
Tessa glanced in the direction he’d pointed.“I don’t go over there.I did once and a man yelled at me.Besides, it’s all so ...”She wrinkled her nose.“Neat.”
He hid a smile.Yes, the grounds of Alverleigh were very neat, constantly maintained by an efficient team of gardeners.“There’s a very good maze, though.Have you tried it?”
She tilted her head like a little bird.“Maze?”
“It’s a puzzle on the ground, with lots of paths bordered by hedges.You have to try to find your way into the center—and then out again—but lots of the paths are dead-ends, which makes it difficult.It’s fun.”
She considered that, then shook her head.“I’ve got plenty of paths here.The animals make them.”She gave him a mischievous look.“I come out at night sometimes and watch the badgers.”
“You come out at night?By yourself?”Marcus was shocked.She was too young, surely, to be out at night on her own.
“Of course by myself.Most people make too much noise and frighten the animals away.”She gave him a speculative look.“If you like, I could show you the badgers.But you’d have to be quiet.”
“Now?”
“No, not now, tonight when the moon is up.That’s when they come out.”
“All right,” he said cautiously.She probably wouldn’t show, was no doubt boasting about coming out at night.But he was curious.He didn’t know much about little girls; he only had brothers—no, just one brother, Nash.
Papa insisted that those other two boys were not his sons.
Marcus wasn’t so sure.
“Well?”the little girl said.“Will you come or not?”
He ought not, he knew.She was a young child, with nobody looking after her.He ought to report the situation, have something done about it, but he was somehow reluctant to do so.She seemed to relish her wild and unsupervised life.Marcus had no idea how that might feel.
Well, why not?He had nothing better to do, and anyway, he was curious.Besides, he’d given her his word.“I’ll come.Moonrise, you said?”
