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“Thank you, Will,” Isla said.

The little boy beamed. “Next time, I will show you my top. It goes around and around.”

“I’d love that.”

“I have a top as well,” Sam said.

“Maybe we could try spinning them at the same time,” Isla said.

“A race!” Will cried.

This time, Lord Bancroft did nothing to hide his laughter. “No more unruly competitions, or your mother will never allow me or Miss Crawford into the nursery again.”

“Yes, indeed,” Lady Maidstone said, the look of fondness that she gave the twins belying her serious tone. “Next time, we shall have your uncle meet you outside in the yard. You can show him how well you ride Marigold.”

The boys cheered, and Lady Maidstone smiled. Isla glanced at Lord Bancroft. Humor danced in his eyes as he watched Sam’s and Will’s enthusiastic response, and Isla received the distinct impression that he knew exactly what they were feeling. He’d probably had a similar joyful zest for life as a child.

“Unlike the two of you, your mother, Miss Crawford, and I have yet to eat this morning, so we shall leave you now,” he said, reaching for the door. “But if I learn that you behaved well for Miss Tomlinson the remainder of the day, I shall see you in the yard tomorrow morning.”

Lady Maidstone bent down and gave each boy a kiss on the top of their heads before sending them back across the room to their waiting nursemaid. “Is it wrong that I wish they could stay young a little longer?” she asked. “Breeching them seemed to age them by at least five years.”

Lord Bancroft ushered her and Isla out of the room. “They are wonderful little gentlemen,” he said. “And I speculate that you shall find something to enjoy at every age that lies ahead.”

“Even thirteen?” she asked.

He grinned. “Just because I persecuted you at that age does not mean Will and Sam will do the same.”

“I shall hold fast to that hope,” Lady Maidstone said, looking utterly unconvinced. And then she turned her attention to Isla. “I have yet to ask how you are faring this morning, Miss Crawford.”

Lost. Terrified. Overwhelmed. Half an hour ago, those would have been Isla’s foremost emotions. Now, thanks to a little time with two five-year-old boys and their playful uncle, she was able to answer more calmly. “I slept well. Thank you for allowing me to stay.”

Lady Maidstone looked pleased, but it was Lord Bancroft who spoke first. His expression had turned from playful to grave. “Miss Crawford has some rather startling information to share. Perhaps after we’ve eaten, we could reconvene in the parlor and have Maidstone join us to discuss her situation.”

“Of course.” Curiosity lit Lady Maidstone’s eyes, but she led them down the stairs without pressing for anything more. “I shall inform Hugh that we require his presence at the top of the hour.”

Isla inched closer to Lord Bancroft. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He gave her a puzzled look. “For what, exactly?”

For listening to her bizarre tale. For not abandoning her outside. For requesting time with Lord and Lady Maidstone on her behalf. Now that she thought about it, she owed Lord Bancroft a great deal of thanks today. But the moment he’d mentioned a meeting, her chest had tightened, and she’d realized again what a gift her time in the nursery had been. “For taking me to meet the twins,” she said. “You were right. Spending time with them was exactly what I needed.”

“You were certainly up to the task when faced with Will’s and Sam’s high spirits,” he said. “It must be that you truly do have young nephews.”

“I do. Ages six, four, and two.” She paused. “Everything I told you about myself this morning is the truth.”

They’d reached the bottom of the stairs. Lady Maidstone had gone ahead, but Lord Bancroft paused and gave Isla a searching look. “Including where you came from?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, meeting his dark eyes and willing him to believe her. “Including that.”

Chapter 6

Ten minutes before Martha’s appointed meeting time in the parlor, Simon knocked on the door of his brother-in-law’s study. Not wanting to leave Miss Crawford to her own devices, he had waited until Martha had her fully engaged in a discussion about the selection of wool twill at her London haberdasher’s shop before excusing himself. He was sufficiently familiar with Martha’s penchant for fabric to know that she would maintain the conversation—and, therefore, keep Miss Crawford beside her—until they met with Maidstone.

“Enter.” Maidstone’s voice reached him through the closed door.

Simon walked in and closed the door behind himself.

Maidstone looked up from the book he was studying. “Bancroft.” He stood and glanced at the timepiece on the mantel. “Forgive me. I had thought Martha wished me to meet with you at the top of the hour.”