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“What is it, Min?” Seth demanded.

“I…” She waved the letter at Seth. “Perhaps you should open yours.”

Seth rolled his eyes. “You do not need to be scared of everything, Min. How bad can it be?”

Angel allowed herself a smile. Whatever was in the letter could not be that bad. After all, Minerva was terrified of most things. She spent most of her time reading or writing and spending time with a limited few friends. Anything out of the ordinary practically petrified her.

“Bloody hell,” Seth murmured.

“Seth!” their mother scolded.

With a heavy stomach, Angel glanced at her own letter. What could these letters contain that would shock even Seth? Her senior by two years, Seth had been playing the rake for enough time to have experienced most of what life had to offer. He was the most fun sibling, and she utterly adored spending time with him, even if he did occasionally take his role of rake a little too far. Angel had thought him impervious to shock.

“Theo?” Angel nodded to the unopened letter in his hand.

His shoulders dropped, and he pulled out a penknife to work open the seal. His lips compressed into a thin line.

“Will no one tell me what theirs say?” Angel asked.

Her siblings ignored her. Her mother tapped her hand. “Perhaps you should open yours, dear.”

Aware of her hands shaking slightly, Angel ripped open the letter, ignoring Theo’s disapproving glare of the mess she made of the letter. This was ridiculous. Why was she so terrified of the contents of this letter? Was she not Lady Angel Templeton, sister to a marquis and known throughout London? Nothing scared her. Ever. Life was too short to be worrying about what others thought and what might be hiding around the corner. Their father’s sudden death many years ago had taught her that.

Chin lifted, she scanned the contents of the letter. Her breath caught in her throat. She grew cognizant of her siblings’ gazes upon her.

“No.” The word slipped out of her mouth.

“Well, what is your task?” asked Minerva. “Is it truly awful?”

Angel examined the letter again before meeting her sister’s worried gaze. She swallowed. “I…I have to get a job.”

Chapter Two

“Roo Roo!” A grimy, wrinkled hand thrust up from behind a bush, like a monster propelling up from the depths.

Reuben winced at the nickname and the realization the grime-encrusted hand was that of his aunt’s. Her beaming face followed the hand as she stood and revealed herself from behind the bush. Dirt streaked her fragile face, sinking deep into the folds of her skin. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun and rolled her gaze up and down his person.

“You grow bigger and more handsome every time I see you.” Aunt Jean smeared her hands down a generous gown of green silk. Her fischu and the cap covering her hair were askew.

Reuben forced a smile. “I stopped growing a long time ago, Aunt.” At the age of twenty-seven, he suspected he’d been fully grown for some time, but his aunt was slowly shrinking with age so it was no surprise she thought him bigger, even if it had only been a week since his last visit.

Hands outstretched, she beckoned him to her. He placed his palms in hers, her boney fingers like slender blocks of ice cocooned in his. He frowned to himself. Why none of her staff could keep her indoors, he did not know. The sooner she had someone looking after her, the better. At her age, and with her fragility, she should be inside in the warmth, even if it was a temperate day.

He glanced around the substantial gardens of Kinden House, eyeing between the long lines of sizeable yew trees thatwere carefully trimmed into tall cylinders. Beyond them, the wildflower meadow was just visible, and when he twisted back, he could view the walled garden in front of the house. His aunt had several gardeners on hand to help with the maintenance of her lands, which begged the question, why was she digging around in the dirt?

“Where is Mr. Higgins?” he asked.

“Oh, trimming the trees I believe.” She waved a hand in the direction of the yew trees, and Reuben finally spotted a ladder leaning up against one, but no sign of the head gardener.

“And what are you doing, Aunt?”

She motioned down to the disturbed dirt at her feet. “Helping, of course. You know, I have one of the biggest gardens in the county,” she confided as though he had never stepped foot in the gardens let alone enjoyed them to their fullest when he’d been a boy. “My gardeners need all the help they can get.”

“Do you not trust us, Mrs. Stone?” teased Mr. Higgins as he approached from behind her. He wiped his hands on a cloth that hung from his belt. “Your aunt has been…helping in the gardens for several hours now, Mr. Hunter. I think it’s high time she took a break.”

Reuben met the man’s gaze and nodded in understanding. Aunt Jean had been growing increasingly scattered over the past year, causing quite a bit of trouble for her servants and gardeners. They all tolerated it with good humor, but Reuben feared it would not be long before she put herself in true danger with her absent-mindedness.

Broad shouldered with thick, red hair that was slowly fading, Mr. Higgins had worked for his aunt for over a decade and would happily tolerate whatever behavior his aunt exhibited, but none of them were paid to be nursemaids nor had the experience of handling an elderly lady with the stubbornness of a mule.