Those hairs at his neck lifted. “Why don’t you trust Griston?” Brock asked gently.
She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. He seems…toonice.”
“Too nice?” Ginny echoed.
“’Tis just a feeling,” she whispered.
“A very important feeling.” Brock went down on one knee before Irene, took up her free hand, and looked up into her eyes. “Never, never ignore those feelings, my dear. They may save your life one day. It’s called intuition.”
“What else?” Cecilia said.
He moved back to his chair. He could feel Ginny’s quaking body from where he sat, though he was positioned an arm’s length away. “Yes. More on hoodwinking, then. A person might pretend to know your family and tell you they are there to escort you home. A statement such as this might hoodwink your Miss Lambert.”
“I don’t think so,” Cecilia said. “Miss Lambert is very smart. She knows French and a lot about painting. And places. She knows where Russia is!”
Brock smiled. “Geography. Very impressive. Still, even the smartest of those can be hoodwinked.”
“Oh.”
He turned his most somber mien on them. “Now, listen closely. Another highly important lesson I wish to impart is tonotremain silent. If you fear something or someone, you must tell your mother or me.”
“What if neither of you are there to tell?” Irene’s practicality was something to cherish.
“Then you tell Kipling or Cook. If you are at the park, you scream your head off until someone comes running to aid you. Do everything in your power you can to get away if someone has grabbed you. Do you still remember how to break the hold on your wrist? We shall show your mother, and we shall practice until we are blue in the face.”
Giggling, Cecilia jumped to her feet. “I stand at your ready, my lord.”
Irene, too, rose to her feet without hesitation. Only Ginny held back. “Come, Mama. You’ll be fine. It’s quite enlightening.”
Ginny was stunned at the amount of information Brock had conveyed to her daughters, and all without frightening them into locking themselves in their bedchambers like she wished to do—lock herself in with them inherbedchamber—not a very practical approach. It was just, she’d no idea the hazards that lurked around every corner. “You must join us for luncheon, my lord.”
“Oh, please. Say you will.” Celia was bouncing up and down, her frothy head of blonde curls running amok.
His large hand ruffled Celia’s head, and a warm glow flowed through Ginny. “I would be honored.”
“Girls, please retire to your chambers and change. I’ll let Cook know we’ll be ready for lunch in twenty minutes.” Ginny turned to Brock. “If that meets with your schedule, my lord?”
“It does indeed.”
Ginny followed the girls out of the ballroom and hurried to her own chamber lest someone find her wearing pantaloons. It was an odd feeling, but she had no desire to see her mother slump to the floor in a fit of vapors should she catch sight of her.
“Ah, there you are, Virginia—”
Swallowing back her groan, Ginny shooed Irene and Celia to the stairs and turned to face her father.
His mouth gaped wide enough for an inexperienced fisherman to hook him whole. “What the devil are you wearing? It’s-it’s indecent.” His voice boomed against the walls.
Every hackle she possessed raised the hair on her skin. “Why are you still here, Papa? You were supposed to be gone by noon. Yesterday.” Saying the words aloud was useless, even if it did make her feel a little better. Her parents were the most overbearing people in the haute ton. She was two steps up when Kipling appeared from a hall behind the staircase. “Kipling, please inform Cook that we shall have one extra for luncheon. Thirty minutes, if you please.”
“Make that two, Kipling. I’ve invited”—he shot a disgusted look at Ginny—“an eligible gentleman as well.”
“And who might that be?” Ginny stopped and turned, leveling him with a steely demand.
“Never you mind, young lady. You best get changed out of that getup. Of all the preposterous, outrageous, stupendous—”
Her shock, her fury, blasted through her. How dare her father presume to handle her house, her guests. “Am I invisible to you?” She pointed at her father.
Her father’s jaw dropped. “Now see here, young lady—”
