“Yes, there are concerns. We will talk about it later.” He tried to move on but a persistent Michaels stepped in front of him.
“Which is what you keep telling me. Unfortunately, we need to talk about this now. Since Mr. Thurlowe married, I have been named the leader of what is left of our small group. Most don’t care about the Society the way you and I do. I need your help in organizing a meeting of all the members in good standing—”
“And you will have it,” Mars promised smoothly. “Although, we are not discussing this issue right now.” He’d managed to maneuver around Michaels and now moved swiftly to Miss Taylor, leaving the hapless leader to stew on his own.
“Are you two ready?” he asked. He noticed a valise and a bag holding a few more clouts and a bottle of goat’s milk at her feet.
However, Miss Taylor wasn’t the one who answered. “Absolutely, my lord,” Mrs. Warbler said from the open doorway of her house as if she were the queen of France. She was dressed for travel with a brown bonnet trimmed in purple feathers and silly bows on top of her customary lace cap. Even her maid Jane had changed, obviously dressing herself in her Sunday clothes.
“This is so exciting,” Mrs. Warbler trilled. “I’ve always envied you living at Belvoir and now, I shall be there as well.”
Mars had to force himself to keep his smile. What the devil had he signed on for?
He did note Miss Taylor wore what she’dbeen wearing when he left her an hour ago. In fact, over the past few years, perhaps since her parents died, she dressed for the most part like a drab sparrow. Or a poor relation. It was a pity actually. She had the looks that could break hearts if shown to advantage.
He kept this thought to himself. He didn’t need to marry her off. He needed her as a nurse.
“You must send someone to fetch our luggage, my lord,” Mrs. Warbler said. “It is at the top of the stairs.”
“Tommy, go help,” he said to the stable lad. “Hodner, he may need assistance.”
“Yes, my lord,” the footman answered. All the children had been given a turn and Hodner had been closing the coach doors.
Mars’s gaze returned to Dora. He didn’t need to climb the step to be level with Miss Taylor. He gently touched Dora’s hedgehog-y hair with his gloved hand. “Do you think she’ll have curls?”
“It is too soon to know,” Miss Taylor answered. “She is, what? Perhaps five to six months old?”
Mars shook his head. “I don’t even know that.” He didn’t know anything.
“You could ask her mother?”
“Hell will freeze over before I talk to her.”
“Well, there are ways to find answers,” she replied, for once not arguing with him. “If you know where Dora was born, there will likely be a register in some church with her birth date recorded.”
“Perhaps.” He would hire a man to seek information. He changed the subject. He was anxious to take Dora home, and to be out of the public eye. Perhaps including the matrons in his plans was fortuitous. He needed to concoct a plausible story of Dora’s appearance in his life and they could help. They would also then be sworn to secrecy.
His daughter was so innocent, so completely dependent upon him. The protective instinct he’d experienced that moment in front of the looking glass in his bedroom grew stronger. He’d do anything to keep Dora safe, especially from the sharp tongues of gossips. “Are you ready?”
“I am,” Clarissa said. “We have gathered a few things Dora will need and I have lists for the rest. It is a sizable list. Mrs. Warbler and Mrs. Summerall insisted on adding more items than I found necessary. After all, we can wash a bottle and use it several times a day. That is what kitchens are for.”
“Have you ever seen the interior of Belvoir?”
She frowned, paused, and then admitted, “No.”
“There is a bit of distance between the kitchen and, really, anywhere.”
The set of Miss Taylor’s mouth told him she was adding “slothful” to her catalog of his defects.
She would see.
“I do have a concern about the goat’s milk,” she continued officiously, as Tommy and Hodner carried a trunk out of the house. “We aregoing to need more very quickly. This child is hungry. Arrangements must be made with Mr. Ewan. Someone will have to fetch it—”
“I’ve already purchased his goat herd.”
“What?”
Mars shrugged. “I purchased his goats. My man is probably with him right now discussing their care and whatever.”
