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“G astric, take me to them.” Grace pointed at the overgrown ravine, then turned and nodded at the other three dogs. “You fine boys stand guard, yes? Set up a howl if anyone approaches.”

The loyal brown and white foxhounds sat at attention, valiantly accepting her command.

Gastric wiggled his thick black-and-tan body forward, his somewhat shorter legs barely keeping his round belly off the ground.

Grace had found this canine of questionable ancestry years ago, a starving little pup trying to maneuver the streets of London.

While she loved all her dogs, sweet Gastric, with his floppy ears and endearing efforts to always keep up with the long-legged foxhounds, held a special place in her heart.

“I am coming to help you,” Grace called out to the children and whomever they protected in the vines.

“Do not be afraid. I promise I mean you no harm.” Thankful for her boots and buckskins, she forged deeper into the wild cluster of saplings, butcher’s broom, elder, and the almost impenetrable vines of woodbine that effectively hid the steep decline into the ravine.

“And Gastric will not hurt you either.” Although how anyone could ever be afraid of sweet Gastric was beyond her.

“Over here,” said the child called Sissy. The little girl’s timid voice touched Grace’s heart. “We are sorry to be on Broadmere land.”

After ducking and shoving through a particularly thick snarl of undergrowth, Grace came upon the young boy and girl crouching beside a half-grown terrier that was hopelessly ensnared in the strong, woody vines of honeysuckle.

An extraordinarily large ginger cat stood guard at the poor little dog’s head, hackles up, tail puffed and paw lifted and ready to strike Gastric’s inquisitive nose.

Grace snapped her fingers. “Come, Gastric. Behind me, please. We mustn’t frighten them.

” The jolly dog immediately obeyed, plopping down behind her as if ready to take advantage of the shade and enjoy a nap.

Turning back to the children, she offered them a smile as she knelt in front of them.

“My name is Grace, and I shall have your poor pup freed in no time.” She eyed the cat that had flattened its ears and shifted its glare to her while continuing to vibrate with a warning growl.

“Would you please tell your friend I only mean to help?”

The boy stood and gave her a formal bow. “I am Connor, and this is my sister, Susannah. I call her Sissy, and you can too if you really mean to help us.” He pointed at the cat. “Galileo there is Hector’s best friend and always protects him.”

“As best friends always should,” Grace said to the cat.

Poor, trussed-up Hector whined and frantically twitched, his little sides rapidly rising and falling as he panted with fear.

“It’s all right, Hector.” Grace extended her knuckles so the animals could sniff her hand.

The cat gave her a leery look but no longer growled.

Poor little Hector whined even louder. “I carry a penknife in my boot. It will make quick work of those vines. Do not be alarmed as I draw it out, all right?” she told the children.

Both of them nodded.

After cutting the small dog free, Grace noticed blood on Hector’s front leg, and that he refused to put any weight on it when he stood. “Poor thing. The vines must have injured him. I carry balm and bandages in my saddlebag. Let’s get him carried out, and I’ll see to him.”

Connor pushed his way between her and the dog. “I’ll carry him. It’s my fault he got caught.”

“Hector was after a rabbit,” Sissy explained. “It is not Connor’s fault. He thinks he has to take the blame for everything.”

“It was an accident,” Grace said. She stood and tucked her knife back into her boot. “Young dogs often get themselves into dire straits because they don’t know any better.”

“You talk like an adult,” Connor said as he scooped up the dog and held it close.

Grace laughed. “I am an adult. Did you think me a child?”

“You are just not very big for a man,” Sissy said. “And why would your parents name you Grace when you are a man?”

“Sissy!” Connor angled a fierce scowl at his sister.

“You never find out if you do not ask,” Sissy argued. “He’s dressed like a boy but says he is grown.”

“I am a she ,” Grace said as they tromped their way back to level ground, where Pegasus and the other three dogs waited.

The ginger cat sprang into the lead, growling and hissing at the trio of hounds to keep them at bay.

“And these are my adventuring clothes. Riding habits tend to get in my way when I explore the countryside.” She nodded at Sissy’s dress.

“Your mama will not be pleased about those stains and tears.”

“Our mother doesn’t care,” Sissy said. “The governess told us we could be dead, and our mother wouldn’t even bother to come back for our funerals.”

“What a horrible thing to tell you.” Grace clapped her mouth shut, her suspicions building.

Two young children. On the edge of Broadmere property that adjoined the Wolfebourne estate.

If these two were who she thought they were, the freedom of her adventuring clothes could well be over.

“The Duke of Wolfebourne wouldn’t happen to be your older brother, would he? ”

Both children bowed their heads and remained silent, a silence that shouted she was correct. They halted in front of Grace’s line of foxhounds, Connor hugging Hector to his chest, and Sissy now holding the cat.

“I am not asking so I can tell on you,” Grace told them. “I am asking because I really do not like it when adults see me in my adventuring clothes. It makes my brother angry.”

“Who is your brother?” Connor asked.

“The Duke of Broadmere.”

“If you promise not to tell our brother we were on your land, we promise not to tell anyone about your adventuring clothes,” Sissy offered with the grace and aplomb of an extremely experienced diplomat. Wiliness battled with pleading in her dark brown eyes.

“Agreed,” Grace said as she fetched the bandages and balm from her saddlebag. She hoped the children kept to their word as faithfully as she intended to keep to hers. “Now, let’s get Hector’s leg seen about and then we’ll get you home, shall we?”

As she knelt to take care of the frightened pup, she tipped her head homeward bound. “Gastric, Pete, Moses, Ferdinand—home.”

All four dogs stared at her as if hoping she would change her mind.

“Home,” she repeated in a more authoritative tone. “Now, please, or no soupbones.”

The dogs took off, leaving poor Gastric at the back of the pack, struggling to keep up.

“They listen to you?” Connor asked in amazement.

“Of course they listen to me. They know I love them and would never ask the wrong thing of them.” Grace patted the ground in front of her.

“Place Hector here, please. And he will learn to listen to you too as long as you are kind, patient, and loving. Remember, he has to be given time to learn new things, just as you do. But if you reward him with love and sometimes a treat or two when he behaves as he should, he’ll soon listen just like my pups. ”

“Your Gastric looks like he has had a lot of treats.” Sissy idly scratched the much calmer Galileo’s ears as she watched the dogs head across the meadow.

“Yes, well, my sweet Gastric loves to eat. I think it’s because I found him on the streets of London, and he was half starved.

Perhaps, deep down, he fears that someday he might starve again.

” Grace examined Hector’s sore leg. “Thankfully, this is not bad at all. I think he is more afraid than anything.”

“Can you bandage it anyway?” Connor asked. “I am sure that will make him feel much better and less afraid.”

Grace tried not to smile. She normally didn’t pay much mind or even tolerate children all that well, but she liked these two. “I would be happy to, and we shall put some balm on the scrape just to be certain, yes?”

Both children nodded as they knelt beside her, avidly watching her treatment of their sweet pup.

“What do you think, Galileo?” she asked the cat critically eyeing her and flipping his tail.

“It takes him a while to trust,” Sissy said. “Our last two governesses were mean to him.”

“A pox on them both,” Grace said without thinking. She paused in her wrapping of Hector’s foreleg. “I should not have said that, but I can’t tolerate anyone being cruel to animals. Please add that to our agreement of mutual secrecy.”

Both children grinned and bobbed their heads. Galileo even deigned to move a little closer.

“There now. All done.” Grace scratched behind Hector’s ears and the little white dog almost seemed to smile. “We shall be great friends, Hector.” She held out her hand to Galileo. “Friends?”

The cat flicked an ear and blinked its great golden eyes as if to say he had yet to decide.

Grace understood completely. Once an animal had been mistreated, it was afraid to trust anyone.

“Thank you for helping us,” Connor said. “And have no worry. We always keep our word.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Grace told them, “and I always keep my word too.”

“Hector refuses to walk,” Sissy said. “It’s a long way home to carry him all the way.”

While Hector was a small dog, it would be quite the chore for them to tote him across the meadow and all the way back to Wolfebourne Lodge.

Grace chewed on her bottom lip, battling with what she knew she should do and the need to protect the freedom of wearing her buckskins.

The children could ride Pegasus while holding the little dog, but what would happen when she delivered them home and was spotted by one of the servants or, heaven forbid, someone of even higher ranking?

But what if she got them close to home? She could deliver them well out of sight of anyone but close enough that carrying the little dog the rest of the way wouldn’t be such an arduous task.