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Running to her brother and tattling about her clothing in the meadow would be the action of a cowardly, powerless fool, and she knew it.

But showering gifts upon her niece and nephew after her insulting behavior in the shop, and including a special gift just for her to remind her of her tenuous position due to her scandalous adventuring clothes, as Connor and Sissy had informed him they were called—now, that might be a well played move, indeed.

He pointed at a doll with a face embroidered with bright blue eyes and smiling red lips.

Her hair was a cheerful yellow yarn plaited into braids on either side of her head.

She was dressed in a muslin gown with a brilliant red ribbon tied around her waist. Her feet appeared to have been painted black to mimic shoes.

“That one there, Mrs. Mettlestone. Suitable for a one-year-old? Sturdy enough so the child can enjoy it?”

The Mettlestones shared another of their meaningful looks, then Mrs. Mettlestone nodded as Mr. Mettlestone hurried to fetch the steps to reach the doll.

“And those toy soldiers.” Wolfe wasn’t sure what a babe in arms might enjoy, but the soldiers were colorful in their painted uniforms of red and gold, so they might catch the little one’s attention.

“For Master Quill? Who is naught but a babe?” Mr. Mettlestone carefully handed the doll to Mrs. Mettlestone while keeping his focus locked on Wolfe.

“I can’t very well send a gift to one without sending a gift to the other, now can I?” Wolfe dared the shopkeeper to argue.

“No, Your Grace. Of course not.”

“And wrap a pair of buckskins in a fine length of dark blue silk,” Wolfe added. A wickedly knowing smile came to him, and he fully embraced it. “Place them in a separate box all to themselves.”

“A pair of buckskins?” Mr. Mettlestone repeated. “To be sent along with the doll and the soldiers?”

“Yes.” Wolfe rubbed his hands together, envisioning the look on Lady Grace’s face when that particular gift arrived along with the other two.

“I want everything wrapped nicely in ribbons and bows, each in their own boxes, of course. Deliver them to Broadmere Manor with my felicitations for a happy summer holiday.”

“How do we know what size buckskins to send?” Mrs. Mettlestone asked. “We shall have to get them from the tailor next door to send along with the toys. Do you wish a small pair for Master Quill for when he is old enough for breeches?”

“A bit larger than that. A pair that might fit a stable lad about this tall.” Wolfe stretched out a hand to what he remembered as Lady Grace’s exact height. “Slender, as well. After all, a stable lad is always quite fit.”

And Lady Grace had indeed been quite fit in her buckskins.

Never would he forget the shapeliness of her fine, round bottom as she had launched herself up into the saddle.

The woman was the stuff of dreams—as well as nightmares.

He cleared his throat and resettled his stance, forcing his thoughts back to the present, lest his body betray him with the arousal the memory invariably triggered.

“I would like the items delivered today, if at all possible.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Mr. Mettlestone handed the toys to his wife. “We shall have them delivered before tea.”

“Very good. I shall inform my man to come by and settle my account.” As he reached the door, he paused. “And add the cost of the banners for Lady Grace’s sister to my bill rather than the Broadmeres’. I insist.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Mr. Mettlestone squinted over the tops of his spectacles and bowed. “Thank you for your kind patronage.”

Wolfe touched the brim of his hat and exited, feeling a great deal better about the entire situation. What he wouldn’t give to be an unseen observer when Lady Grace spied those buckskins. He chuckled to himself.

“Your Grace! There you are.”

The familiar voice made the hairs on his nape stand on end.

With a heavy sigh, he turned and tipped a nod.

“Lady Margaret. Lady Longmorten. Forgive me for missing you both at breakfast. The children and I had a prior commitment. I trust you had no issue with the instructions I left should you wish to leave the lodge. Did Mr. Kiddlington see to your needs?”

“Obviously.” Lady Longmorten twitched with a haughty sniff and shot a side-eyed glance at the plain black carriage parked behind the one bearing the ducal seal. “We are here, are we not?”

“Now, Mother.” Lady Margaret coyly batted her lashes and patted the light brown curls framing her face.

“Do forgive her fractiousness, Your Grace. I fear Mother is not at her best today.” She offered him an apologetic smile but sadly reminded him of a rabid dog baring its teeth.

“You mentioned the children. Where are the little”—she wrinkled her nose as if smelling something foul—“the little mites?”

Wolfe clenched his teeth, taking umbrage at her tone. “In the carriage. They and I have a few remaining errands to complete before we return to the lodge.”

“Mother and I would be most happy to join you.”

A barely audible groan came from the carriage, making Wolfe clench his jaws even harder, this time to keep from laughing. Connor had obviously forgotten their discussion on how easily sound traveled.

“Good heavens.” Lady Margaret recoiled, her disgust unmistakable. “Has one of them taken ill?”

“Quite possibly,” Wolfe hurried to say, leaping on the opportunity to escape the women at least for a few more hours.

Lady Longmorten pressed a lacy handkerchief to her mouth. “We should carry on, Margaret. His Grace appears in fine fettle today. I am sure we will enjoy his company at tea and dinner. Will we not, Your Grace?”

“Of course, ladies.” Wolfe forced a smile. There would be no escaping the duo now, no matter how much his knee or his need for peace might pain him. He touched the brim of his hat. “Until tea, then.”

Both women curtsied and continued on their way.

As he climbed into the carriage, he released a low groan.

“Careful, brother,” Sissy said in a loud whisper. “The ladies will hear.”

“They heard you,” he informed Connor.

“Sorry. It came out before I could stop it.” The boy peeked out the window, then sagged back into the seat opposite Wolfe. “You are not going to make us come to tea with you, are you? Can we have it in the nursery like usual? We could eat dinner in the nursery too, if you wanted.”

Wolfe resettled himself more comfortably before rapping on the ceiling for the driver to continue on to the treat shop.

“You must come to dinner in the dining room as usual, but you may escape and have tea in the nursery as long as you both promise to better monitor what you say in the future. Just because you think it, does not mean it should be said. Try to sort out how it will be perceived and affect others before you speak.”

“We made you look poorly back in the shop, didn’t we?” Sissy scooted closer and rested her head against his shoulder. “I am sorry, brother. Please don’t listen to Lady Longmorten and send us away.”

Wolfe’s heart twisted and dropped to the pit of his stomach.

“I have no intention of sending either of you away, but I do need you both to do a better job of cooperating. Work with me rather than against me.” Perhaps if he recruited them rather than continue to bend them to Society’s mold, they would all be happier.

The manner with which young Connor kept eyeing him gave him pause. “What are you plotting?”

The boy drew himself up as if insulted. “Just ’cause I was studying you, does not mean I am plotting. I was wondering something.”

Even though Wolfe knew he shouldn’t ask, he couldn’t resist. “And what were you wondering?”

“Why don’t you send those women away and tell them not to come around anymore? It’s plain to everyone that you don’t like them. Prolly even plain to them.”

“Plain to everyone?”

Sissy gave him a solemn nod. “Mrs. Havarerry. Feebson. Miss Hannah and all the rest of the maids. All of them said as much.”

“And you know this how?” Wolfe resigned himself to the fact that perhaps he needed to pay more attention to what went on in his own household.

“You know servants gossip,” Sissy said, then shook a finger at him.

“But don’t scold them. They feel bad for you.

None of them like those two, either. At least, none of them other than Mrs. Havarerry.

They think Lady Longmorten is the worstest of the pair.

We heard them say they might could survive Lady Margaret as long as she don’t turn as sour and mean as her mother. ”

Deflating with a resigned sigh, Wolfe bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Like I said,” Connor continued, “why don’t you send them off?”

“I explained to you about the betrothal,” Wolfe said, hoping that would be the end of it.

“That’s like a promise, right?” Connor patted his knees. “Sometimes promises get broke. I know it is bad when they do, but sometimes they still do.”

“Yes, but if I were to break this promise, it would not only stain our name but very well likely cost us a great deal of money.”

“Is that what a breach of promise suit means?” Sissy asked. “You have to pay them to get out of the promise Father made when you was little?”

“Where did you hear that?” Wolfe asked, staring at the two in amazement. They should be spies for the Crown, the way they ferreted out information.

“Never you mind,” Connor hurried to say while shooting his sister a hard look. “How much would it cost to pay them to go away? It might be worth it.”

While Wolfe tended to agree, he feared Lady Longmorten’s avarice knew no boundaries. “It would be far better if Lady Margaret chose to sever our betrothal, both for her reputation and mine.”

Sissy sadly shook her head. “We can’t help you there. Lady Longmorten plans to be rid of us, so we won’t be a bovver to her and Lady Margaret no more. She considers us deposable.”

“Do you mean disposable ?” Wolfe tightened his fists until his knuckles popped. “Did you overhear the woman say that?”

Sissy shook her head. “Didn’t have to—she told us straight out.”

“And she did say disposable ,” Connor said with a nod at his sister. “She made Sissy cry that day.”

Wolfe now found himself fully agreeing with Lady Grace regarding children feeling safe enough to speak their minds. He would not have his brother and sister mistreated. “Whenever anyone says or does anything unkind to either of you, you are to tell me immediately.”

“That was the night of that party you let Lady Longmorten give at our house in London. Mrs. Havarerry said you was too busy, and we should try not to think about it.” Sissy tipped a despondent shrug. “Sometimes it’s hard to get to see you.”

“Not anymore. I shall address that issue with Miss Hannah, Mrs. Havarerry, and Feebson as soon as we get back.”

“Lady Grace might could help us,” Connor said with a thoughtful nod. “She’s wily enough to think of a way for us to be rid of those two. I’m thinking Lady Margaret might not mind leaving. Maybe that would make her happy. It’s old Longface that’s the problem.”

“Connor—remember what I said about choosing your words more carefully?”

“Sorry.” The boy pulled a face. “I thought it would be all right to speak my mind, since it was just us three.”

“It is always all right for you to speak your mind when we are in private. However, if you become too comfortable with inappropriate words, you might forget and use them in public.”

“Inappropriate words?” Connor wrinkled his nose.

“Rude words, Connor, for heaven’s sake.” Sissy shook her head. “Even though Lady Margaret’s mother is a mean old woman, that does not make it all right for us to be rude and make up names about her.” She smiled up at Wolfe. “Right?”

A weary sigh escaped him. “Correct, Sissy. Absolutely correct.”