“It always is.” Rebecca did not tell Samuel why she’d fled London when she had or why she had planned to stay in the country so long. Like everyone in her family, Samuel would offer to fix her financial woes, and that would be embarrassing.
Samuel turned around and viewed the empty lawn behind them. “Was that Lord Rafferty I saw with you when we arrived?”
“Yes, he and his daughter are here for the wedding.”
He threw her a grin. “Have you forgiven him then or can I expect unpleasantness between you still?”
“Forgiven him?”
“For climbing into your bed that one time?”
“For the last time, he climbed into an empty bed, before I had been offered the room, so it was hardly my bed to begin with.” Rebecca shrugged off the gossip. “The tale is far more scandalous than the actual event was, I assure you. “
Samuel smirked. “A pity. You could use a bit of excitement in your life.”
“My life is exciting enough as it is.”
Samuel’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “Oh, are you saying you have another admirer besides Rafferty?”
“You’ve been out in the sun too long, brother.”
Samuel laughed then. “Well, if nothing else, the rumor that Lord Rafferty was rebuffed has likely given every other scoundrel reason to reconsider approaching you. The rumor gets more exaggerated every time someone talks about that night.”
Yes, she had something of a prudish reputation thanks to that rumor involving Rafferty. She didn’t mind if it kept scoundrels at bay, however, any man with honorable intentions had no cause for concern—not that she had noticed any lurking about.
They went up the stairs arm in arm and into the entrance hall, where Samuel greeted the butler as if a long-missed friend. Rebecca stood back, charmed by the exchange because she’d feared never to see her brother this way again. He was never proper, seldom considered his reputation or position in society and, like the sons he was almost raising singlehandedly, had boundless energy. He seemed to have finally found a measure of peace from his many travels.
As they moved deeper into the manor, they heard shouting ahead—familiar voices that would not be shushed. Instinctively, Rebecca quickened her steps. The twins had gone to the morning room with Fanny. They should have been amply distracted by the choices on the sideboard. However, the twins were not eating anything—they were fencing with chicken legs around Fanny as she did nothing to stop them.
Samuel rushed forward, complaining just as loudly, trying to put a stop to their antics, but the boys just dodged his outstretched arms, continuing the game.
Shouting at the twins never really worked and they’d obviously been shut up in a carriage for too long. Rebecca stood calmly, arms folded across her chest and waited to be noticed.
When they, at last, glanced her way, she whispered the twins’ names in her steadiest voice.
Both boys froze, and they scrambled to her in a hurry.
She clucked her tongue. “What are your grandfather’s chairs made for?”
“Sitting on,” they replied with a grin.
She raised one brow, and they suddenly sank onto the edge of the same chair. “Much better. Now, where will the chairs you can stand on be placed?”
“Out on the lawn, so we don’t hurt ourselves when we inevitably fall off,” they replied as one voice.
“Exactly. Let us not start this visit with either one or both of you confined to bed with a broken bone.”
Both boys exchanged a long, silent look of horror.
“Now, let me remind you that the furniture in the manor is to be looked after properly. What is outside, in your area of the garden, is for play,” she continued, noting that Fanny had settled in a chair—one closest to the door. “I want you to eat your fill of this fine luncheon while I make the arrangements for your amusements to be set up outside.” She gave them a stern look. “No chicken leg sword fights in this room while I’m gone. Do you understand?”
They nodded very quickly, eyes darting to the nearby window. “Yes, Aunt Becca.”
“Boys,” their father said sternly, and their heads snapped around.
“We’re really very sorry, aunts. Father.”
“That’s