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“All we can say is do, das, dat—I give, you give, we give,” Florence agreed.

Torie hadn’t even realized the book she’d found was in a different language; she’d seen it in a stall in front of St. Paul’s and liked the etchings of animals. She was always looking at books, wishing she knew what was inside. They were like treasure boxes that were forever hidden from her but open to everyone else.

“Where will the rabbit sleep?” Florence asked.

“We shall sketch madly for a couple of hours and then give him to Cook,” Torie said.

“Rabbit stew,” Valentine said approvingly.

“Let’s go!” Florence shouted boisterously.

It was more challenging to exit the house than Torie had anticipated, never having taken children anywhere without a nanny to dress them for the outdoors. Even with a maid assigned to the nursery, their coats couldn’t immediately be found—until it was revealed that Nanny Bracknell had packed their velvet coats and a good deal of other clothing into her trunk. Luckily, she was still in the house when the coats were unearthed.

Flitwick kept his countenance, but the corners of his mouth tucked under when he reported the discovery.

“I didn’t think about giving her her unpaid salary,” Torie said. “Perhaps she was replacing lost funds?”

“You are too kind, my lady. I had taken it upon myself to pay the remainder of her salary,” Flitwick said. “I might add that Viscount Kelbourne began paying her double the going wage after she complained about the move to London.”

Of course Dom would have paid double.

He had the habit of easing his way with generosity, even when it would be better to refrain. Thinking of the Duke of Queensberry clowning around Bath in a pink suit with glass diamonds was irritating. Thinking of Nanny Bracknell being paid double when she spent no time in the nursery was even more so.

The twins clattered down the marble staircase and arrived before her, breathless in their matching black velvet coats, just as Dom strode into the house. Torie whirled about. Surely he had told her that the afternoon debates weren’t over until—

Their eyes met. He had also told her, once, that he planned to return home at luncheon and feast on her rather than food.

“Good afternoon, viscount,” she said, dropping into a curtsy.

“Torie,” he said. “Wife.” He caught her around the waist and kissed her until she swayed against him, one hand coming up to grasp his lapel simply to keep herself on her feet.

She pulled back with a gasp, thinking of Flitwick, the footman who was to accompany them, the children . . .

The butler and footman were staring resolutely at the wall, but now the corners of Flitwick’s mouth curled up rather than tucked down. The children were staring with as much interest as they might at a zoological exhibit.

“If you’re quite finished greeting Torie, we are going on an outing,” Florence said to Dominic.

Torie had the distinct impression that her husband would prefer to go back upstairs. Yet that wouldn’t do. There would be no going back to bed, not when the children were waiting in their nearly pilfered garments, hopping from foot to foot in excitement.

“We’re going to Smithfield Market,” she told him. “We plan to buy a rabbit.”

The hunger in his eyes disappeared as if by magic. “You must be joking.”

Flitwick’s smile broadened. She hadn’t realized the butler disapproved of their excursion to Smithfield, but then, she hadn’t asked his opinion.

Torie drew herself up, playing the viscountess—imitating Leonora, if truth be told. “Yes, I am serious. We need a rabbit, and I am told that Smithfield Market is an excellent place to buy livestock.”

“Livestock.” Dominic’s voice was disbelieving. “If you wish to acquire a rabbit, tell the cook, Mrs. Cottage. She will inform the butcher. My understanding is that he visits the house every morning.”

“Several butchers do,” the butler put in. “Mrs. Cottage feels that giving all the household custom to one butcher would encourage him to take advantage. One of the three will be able to furnish a live rabbit.”

The children wilted with disappointment.

“No. We shall go to Smithfield and find our own rabbit,” Torie told her husband and his butler. “It’s not just about the rabbit. The children and I plan to get to know London. All three of us have spent our lives primarily in the country.”

“You could come with us,” Florence told Dominic, tucking her hand into his. He was wearing gloves, so his hands seemed even larger in comparison to her slender fingers.

“He has to return for the afternoon debate,” Valentine said.