The Wild Baron (Baron 1)

“Baron,” she nodded. “Is this the little girl?”

“This is my little girl, Marianne. Pumpkin, say hello to Lady Dauntry.”

“Hello. May I have a purple feather?”

To Rohan’s astonishment, Lady Dauntry pulled one of the feathers from the bonnet and handed it to her. Marianne enjoyed instant bliss.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Rohan said. “That is very kind of you. Isn’t she a darling?”

“Yes, she’s adorable, the very image of you, baron. You were wrong not to bring the little girl and her mother to Mountvale House for so very long, but I suppose that they’re here now and that’s what is important. You have faced your responsibilities. I dare say that Charlotte is bewildered by all this?”

Marianne was waving the feather over the top of Gulliver’s head. He was snorting, his head going up and down, trying to get that feather out of Marianne’s hands and into his mouth.

“That’s enough, pumpkin,” Rohan said. “Gulliver just might knock both of us into a ditch.” Without thinking, he kissed the little girl’s temple.

Lady Dauntry tsked. “Your father used to kiss you just so when you were just a little nit, baron. Now, about poor Charlotte?”

“My mother adores both Susannah and Marianne, ma’am. She is dealing well with my early marriage.”

“Ro-han!” Marianne waved the feather in his face.

“I see she is getting bored. We’d best be off before she does something outrageous. A pleasure to see you, ma’am.”

“She doesn’t call you Papa. But not surprising, I suppose, given that you didn’t see her all that often. I trust you will rectify that soon. Tell dear Charlotte I shall visit her.” Lady Dauntry poked her coachman in the back with her cane. The man jumped, then the horse.

That was a good point, Rohan thought, hugging Marianne, who wasn’t having any of it. She was bouncing up and down on his leg. Gulliver was snorting.

He decided it was time to return home. When they neared the stables, he heard Jamie singing at the top of his lungs, in a rich, broad West Country accent:

“There was a young lady of Lynn.

Who was so uncommonly thin

That when she essayed

To drink lemonade,

She slipped through the straw and fell in.”

Marianne roared with laughter, then turned to Rohan. “What does ‘essayed’ mean?”

He kissed her nose. “It means she tried to drink her lemonade through a straw. Let’s go find your mama. Jamie, all goes well with you?” He realized in that moment that he’d forgotten to speak to him about the marital situation.

Before Rohan could say a thing, Jamie said, nodding, “I quite understand, milord. Mum’s the word. Don’t ye worry none about me trap flapping.”

“Thank you. I won’t. Forgive me for not speaking to you about this situation sooner.”

“Tan’t nuthin’ t’worry ye or me. Now, Marianne, come down to Jamie.”

“How can you recite limericks in Etonian English and then in the next breath decapitate the language?”

“Talent, milord. Sheer talent.”

The later it became, the quieter Susannah became. When the clock struck ten deep strokes, she was mute, staring down at her toes.

“Whatever is wrong with you?” Charlotte asked, leaning over to place her palm on Susannah’s forehead.

She gave her mother-in-law the most pathetic look Rohan had ever seen. “Oh, nothing, Charlotte. I’m just tired.”