“The viscount and his family have always been honorable.”
True enough.“But?”
“We have many unwanted visitors this autumn,” the old man said.
“You have a lock on the silver pantry?” Gideon asked before rushing on so as not to offend the butler’s dignity. “Of course you do.”
Fillmore’s nod was a choppy dip of the head. “There is a problem, however. Mrs. Morrit’s keys have gone missing. Or so she said.”
Interesting.Gideon suggested methods for securing the door even from someone with a key, including a few the butler seemed amused by.
“Perhaps we should put Mrs. Kendrick’s massive beast in the room,” Fillmore suggested.
Was that an attempt at humor?“That would cause more problems,” Gideon said.
In the end, they agreed to station footmen at the door around the clock. There was no need to make explanations public. The presence of a guard would be enough of a message to the perpetrator. Gideon wondered if Mrs. Tavernash would make a scene when she found the room guarded, though neither of them had said her name.
John, coming at a dead run, interrupted them. “Beg pardon, Mr. Fillmore, but a fancy traveling carriage has arrived—and it is full of children, sir,” he said, clearly shocked.
Gideon left with as much speed as he could. Fillmore passed him on the way. Gideon rushed on.My children are here!A bright light had just shown on his dismal day.
Chapter Thirty-One
Mia heated herbrick over the spirit lamp and wrapped it in a towel. She made willow bark tea and returned to bed with both. She struggled not to think about the previous night’s quarrel. There would be time for that when she felt better. For now, she couldn’t shake several kinds of misery, from Gideon’s treatment at the hands of her cousins and the neighbors, to Lizzy Carter’s fate, to poor Hector confined to the Woodglen stables. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
Hours—or perhaps moments—later a knock at the door woke her up. She stuffed the pillow around her ears.
“Mia, may I come in?”
Gideon!
“Something has happened. I need to speak to you,” he said, his voice muffled by the door.
“Wait.” Blessedly he did while Mia straightened herself up and sat up against the pillows. “You may come in.”
He approached the bed and searched her face so intently she had to drop her gaze to her hands. “What has happened?” she asked.
“My children have arrived,” he said.
“Oh! I am so sorry. I have to dress.” She tossed the covers aside and began to rise. Gentle hands urged her back down.
“Easy, love. They are getting settled in the nursery. I thought perhaps they could come down here for tea if you are feeling up to it.”
She nodded. “I will be. I’m not usually such a layabout.”
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
“No. Mercy has been quite proficient at seeing to what I need. Of course, now the entire shire will know I’m not with child.”
His startled expression amused her. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I—Were you disappointed?” His distress touched her heart.
She managed to smile at him. “A bit, but there’s time for it. Perhaps the gossip is a good thing.”
“Have you eaten?” he asked. “I brought toast.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “Kiss me now and go see those children of yours. I have no doubt they’ve missed you as much as you’ve missed them.”
His kiss, tender and compassionate, soothed her. Before he left, though, he had one more thing to report.
