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He caught sight of Agnes, and she was a portrait of calmness, her attention fixed on a cake placed precariously on a saucer. “It’s not a worm. It’s a caterpillar,” she corrected. Agnes seemed to have found a sliver of humor in this otherwise unfortunate situation.

“As though that makes any difference,” the now apoplectic guest spat at Agnes, her patience frayed beyond repair. With swift movements, she snatched her reticule and made for the door.

“Lady Kirkland!” the Duchess called out, a note of appeal in her voice.

Lady Kirkland was beyond placation. “Utterly unhygienic. Such lack of common courtesy. Worms! In my tea! They’re trying to poison me!” she muttered to herself, her words a barrage of outrage as she stormed past Theodore, and he was nearly pushed aside in her rush.

He knew Lady Kirkland all too well, and if she had not been so discomfited, she would have recognized him. And he would have become kindling for her tales.

Theodore found was caught between amusement and confusion. What was going on? When his eyes found the butler—who had been poised to announce his arrival—the man’s eyebrows were raised in silent question.

“Lord Gillingham!” Agnes’s voice broke through the tension. A sheepish smile graced her features as her eyes met his, and there was a silent apology in their depths.

The Duchess of Richmond stepped forward. “Welcome, Lord Gillingham, and pardon the fray. I don’t know how we got worms?—”

“Caterpillars,” Agnes interjected softly with a precision that was humorous given the circumstances.

“Caterpillars in the tea,” the Duchess corrected, sighing deeply before she dispatched a servant to fetch the housekeeper, presumably to solve the mystery of the unexpected guests.

Just then, a small giggle from behind one of the sofas came, drawing the room’s attention. Theodore’s curiosity, already piqued, transformed into amusement as the pieces began to fall into place in his mind.

“Georgie?” Agnes called out. The boy’s gasp was audible, a clear giveaway of his hiding spot.

“George Frederick Mathew Young, come out here this instant!” his mother called.

The little boy crawled out at last, his face red. Yet, the moment he spotted Theodore, his demeanor shifted. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and he dashed over with the energy only a child possessed.

“Have you come to meet my friends, Lord Gillingham?” George asked.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with your governess right now, George?” His mother’s voice rang out again.

George seemed to be in his own world, one where governesses and their schedules held little sway. He pressed on with his questions for Theodore, undeterred. “I have two of them having tea with Mother and Agnes right now,” he declared with pride. “They seemed to have sent Lady Kirkland away, though. I think she isn’t fond of caterpillars,” he added, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes.

Tugging at Theodore’s sleeve, George pulled him toward the scene of the toppled tea service, eager to share his adventure. Despite the chaos, or perhaps because of it, Theodore was drawn into the boy’s spirited world.

“How about you hear what the Duchess has to say first, George?” Theodore’s suggestion was an attempt to steer the young lad toward order.

“Friends shouldn’t be kept waiting,” George countered with the sort of impeccable logic only a child could muster. His protest was cut short as a new voice called out his name, bringing a momentary pause to his antics. “Oh no,” he murmured, concern in his voice as he turned toward the source.

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you,” the voice, calm yet firm, belonged to a woman clearly accustomed to dealing with wayward charges.

“My apologies, Your Grace. He escaped from the classroom,” the governess said, addressing the Duchess with a respectful curtsy before reaching for her errant student. George, displayinga surprising agility, dodged and darted in the direction of the French doors.

Thankfully, a footman, quick on his feet and clearly well-versed in the art of intercepting young gentlemen of energy, beat him to the exit and scooped him up just in time. George’s protests turned into a cacophony of kicks and squeals as he called out to Theodore for help, a plea made all the more dramatic as he was whisked out of the room by his governess, who followed with an apologetic look over her shoulder.

“I should see to that child,” the Duchess said, offering Theodore an apologetic smile before following the audible trail of her son’s displeasure out of the room.

“Well, that was some grand introduction to George’s little friends,” Theodore said lightly as he surveyed the aftermath of George’s introduction to high society. The room, though in disarray, held a certain charm in the wake of the day’s events.

“George is fond of the oddest critters,” Agnes explained, amused by the boy’s display.

“Lady Kirkland apparently isn’t,” Theodore observed, unable to resist the quip. At this, Agnes finally allowed the mirth she’d been repressing to surface, and Theodore found himself laughing along with her.

“So, is this call mine, or George’s?” Agnes asked slyly, her eyes twinkling. Theodore realized then that his promise had been both to the children and Agnes.

“Since the boys are having lessons…” Theodore trailed off, his mind already weaving through the possibilities this unexpected turn of events presented.

“Should we take a walk then?” Agnes suggested, her proposal coming as the servants began their task of restoring order to the drawing room. The suggestion was a welcome one, and Theodore nodding in agreement, eager for a moment of tranquility after the storm of excitement.