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Marcia reached for Griffin’s hand. Surprised, he allowed it to be held, and watched her in concern. “We need your help too, Papa.”

His nod was immediate, but he didn’t say anything. If his child needed him—if any child needed him, even if it was the somehow-less-infuriating-than-usual Bull—he’d move mountains.

Bull and Marcia exchanged a glance, then Bull took a deep breath.

“Mother, Mr. Calderbank…” Oh, he’s being formal now? “We need ye to pretend to be married.”

Chapter 5

“To each other?” Griffin blurted, just as Bull turned his optimistic expression Felicity’s way.

Oh dear.

She wanted to object. Wanted to tell her son to cease these silly games. But…Bull was gazing at her with so much hope in his beautiful gray eyes—she suddenly remembered they’d been blue when he’d been born, and she so wanted him to take after her—that she found herself unable to scold him.

Even if his words had caused her heart to jump in excitement for a moment.

“Bull…” She cleared her throat, glad now that Griffin was standing away from her. “What do you mean, pretend to be married?”

“Like…” He glanced from one to another, his enthusiasm fading. “Just…pretend to be married. You and Mr. Griffin. And me and Marcia and Rupert pretend to be siblings.”

Well, at least he hadn’t called the man Gruff.

Felicity opened her mouth to explain to a sixteen-year-old boy why what he was asking wasn’t easy, but couldn’t think of a way to explain. Instead she shut her mouth, then her eyes, and pushed her spectacles out of the way to squeeze the bridge of her nose.

She felt a headache coming on.

Likely caused by irregular blood flow.

What?

Think about it. In the last few minutes, your heart and your nether bits have been competing to see which one could throb the hardest. Between the kitten—good Heavens, any man delivering a kitten could make a woman’s heart pitter-patter, even if he did hold it by the scruff—and working up enough bravery to ask him to make love to you, and your children’s interruption, and this ridiculous question…no wonder you have a headache.

But…nether bits?

That was what you chose to take away from that last sentence?

Nether bits could be a bit distracting, yes. But she was a scientist. Better to call them what they were. Vulva. Labia. Clitoris.

Well those words are considerably less erotic.

Less erotic than nether bits? Good heavens, why was she arguing with herself?

Luckily, the rest of the conversation had moved on without her participation.

“Marcia, what in the f-fudge are ye talking about?” Griffin barked. “Why would I pretend to be married to Flick?”

Before either of them could comment on his use of the sobriquet, Felicity pulled the kitten to her chest once more and began to stroke it, the movement likely more to calm herself than the animal. “Yes, perhaps you had best explain, and quickly.”

The two children exchanged another look, and it was very definitely one of excitement.

“A few months back there was a contest in the Daily Constitutional,” Bull began, “sponsored by the Duke of Peasgoode.”

“I remember,” barked Griffin. “Load of nonsense.”

“Yes, Papa, but your name was listed!”

“That’s how I ken it was nonsense.”