The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London 2)
“And he looked under the beds,” Alice added.
Jacob scowled. “Don’t tell stories, Alice. You were asleep.”
“But I saw him.” Alice squinted and peered through the tiny gaps between her lids to recreate the moment. “I saw him stand up and brush the dust off his hands.”
Jacob tutted. “But you—”
“I think we’ve strayed from the original topic.” Rose had no intention of listening to them bicker, even though she would have liked nothing more than to question them both about the reverend’s odd behaviour. “Now, let us adjourn to the lawn for today’s lesson.”
As expected the children played the part of rebels with the skill most mercenaries struggled to master. The previous night, when it was time to sleep, they’d jumped on the beds until the creaking floorboards were liable to snap. Now, when it was time for exercise and fresh air, it took thirty minutes for them to put on their boots.
When they eventually made it out onto the lawn, the children kept looking back over their shoulder at the house, surveying numerous windows before their eyes settled on one situated on the ground floor.
“Papa is in the study.” Alice pointed to the window. “If he sees us, he might send us inside.”
“No, he won’t.” Heavens, anyone would think they were trying to avoid catching the plague. “And it’s rude to point. Now, hand me the scarf.”
Alice dragged her gaze away from the house and handed Rose the red silk scarf. It was an odd choice for a child
.
“It belonged to Mama,” Alice said as though she’d read Rose’s mind. “We keep a few of her things in the trunk in our room. The reverend tidied that up, too.”
“No, he didn’t,” Jacob snapped.
“He did when you were asleep. I heard the lid creak when he opened it.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now.” Rose drew the soft material through her fingers. A lump formed in her throat. “It’s a beautiful scarf. How fitting that we’re using something so special to help us learn such a valuable lesson.”
A faint sliver of jealousy raced through her as she held the garment in her hand. It was foolish really. But she couldn’t shake the image of Lord Farleigh draping the scarf around his wife’s neck, tugging at the ends and pulling her in for a deep, passionate kiss.
Instinctively, she glanced at the study, only to find the gentleman in question leaning against the wooden shutter, his arms folded as he watched them. Rose’s heart raced. She tried to speak but struggled to form a word.
What was it about Lord Farleigh that affected her so? Not once had she experienced these odd sensations with Lord Cunningham.
The children followed her gaze.
“You see,” Jacob said with an air of arrogance unbefitting a child. “Papa will wave at us to come inside.”
Alice bit down on her bottom lip to stifle her tears. “But I don’t want to go inside.”
“Thankfully, once we begin our lesson, you’ll be unable to see him.”
Who was she trying to fool?
Rose did not need to look at the window to confirm his presence. Every fibre of her being, from the prickles at her nape to the tickling in her tummy, told her he was still there.
“Now, who would like to go first?”
That got the children’s attention.
“Well, I’m the oldest by seven minutes,” Jacob said, and Rose expected him to press his case. “But Papa told me that a gentleman must let the lady go first.”
“And your father is right. That is the gentlemanly thing to do.” Rose took Alice’s hand and drew her closer. “We’re going to play a game. It’s a game of trust. I’m going to cover your eyes with the scarf, spin you around and it’s your job to catch one of us. When you do, you must examine your prisoner. If you identify them correctly, you win a point.”
Jacob glanced back to the study.
“Jacob, you will tie the scarf around Alice. I’ve never been good at knots.” Rose’s thoughts flashed to Nicole. She knew how to tie the tightest knots. The guard, Baxter, would never have untied them on his own.