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“Oh no, I want to go very much. It’s just that if we have a spinning-top competition, you will probably lose every game.”

The lines on his forehead disappeared, and a smile emerged. “So you think. As a gentleman, I should probably warn you that Will is the undisputed champion of spinning tops, but I am a close second.”

“Ah, but you haven’t played against me yet,” Isla said, starting up the stairs. “And Sam might surprise you too. Especially if I give him some pointers.”

Lord Bancroft’s soft chuckle followed her up the staircase, and for the first time since she’d dismounted Belle, Isla found herself looking forward to what was to come next.

“Mine is still going!” Sam jumped up and down with excitement as Will’s peg top tumbled to a stop beside Simon’s foot.

“Well done, Sam,” Miss Crawford said, clapping her hands and smiling widely. “I knew you could do it!”

Simon forced his gaze away from her radiant face to focus on his excited nephews. The boys were already setting up for a rematch, and as Miss Crawford prepared to start them off, Simon experienced a wave of gratitude that his instincts had not failed him. She had needed this time in the nursery. Her troubles had not disappeared, but Will and Sam had helped her forget her worries long enough to experience childlike joy.

Simon had not allowed himself to think through the many and troubling ramifications of his counterfeit betrothal or Catsby’s dastardly plot. That would come later—when he was alone. Given what lay ahead, even without thinking it all through yet, he had a feeling both he and Miss Crawford would be making regular pilgrimages to the nursery over the next few weeks.

“I won again, Uncle Simon!” Sam was jubilant, and to his credit, Will was allowing his brother a moment of glory.

“I am proud of you,” Simon said. “And of you, Will. You have both become champion top spinners, and I think it is time I contrive a new game to play with you so that I may stand a chance of winning.”

The twins laughed delightedly but were obviously not ready to abandon their activity just yet. Setting their tops to spin again, their attention quickly reverted to the wooden toys.

Miss Crawford moved to join Simon beside the small table. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Martha is one of the most generous people I know,” he said, “but sometimes her enthusiasm can be overwhelming. You will undoubtedly spend a great deal of time with her over the next few weeks, and I have every reason to believe you will become fast friends. But should you ever need an escape, I recommend the nursery or a ride on Belle.”

“And if I run into you in here or on Blaze, am I to assume you’re escaping too?”

He should have guessed she would see through his means of evading disquieting thoughts. “That is a distinct possibility.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. If I were more capable, I wouldn’t need someone to guide me through everything.”

“Miss Crawford—”

She set her hand on his arm, effectively stopping him before he could say anything more. “Please,” she said. “If we are to behave as if we’re engaged, would you call me Isla? People tend to go by their first names in the twenty-first century, and it would help me feel more normal.”

“Isla,” he said. It was an unusual name, but it suited her. “Very well.” He paused. “Would it help if you called me Simon?”

“Yes.” She smiled, and he was struck yet again by how much the simple gesture lit her entire countenance. “But if you’d like me to keep up my horribly awkward curtsies when we run into each other, I can do that too.”

He laughed. “Martha will have you curtsying gracefully within a day. She will tell you who should be greeted that way. If my name is on the list, however, you may remove it.”

“Given that you are a titled gentleman, I’m not sure that she will agree with that decision.”

“Probably not,” he admitted, “but I believe we can persuade her that it is what we would both prefer whilst at Copfield Hall, even if we must reinstate obligatory bows and curtsies when we are in London.”

She released a heavy sigh. “Okay.”

“Ah.” She’d spoken without thinking, and Simon was disinclined to let it pass without teasing her. “The word that means you wish to go riding again.”

She clapped her hand over her mouth.

He grinned. “I believe more riding can be arranged.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she said, and then she groaned. “I really think keeping my mouth closed the whole time is safer.”

“And horribly tedious,” he said. “I would rather be betrothed to someone who speaks her mind—even if I do not fully comprehend it.”

Isla shook her head helplessly. “I will try harder. Really, I will.”