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Mrs. Right heard the very recognizable sound of a chair scraping the stone floor. She peeked out between her fingers. Mr. Cremble had leapt from his place and was as white as the inside of a turnip.

Charlie, who was well aware of the game, looked around at the walls and said, “Mr. Cremble, you ain’t gone and hung a cross somewhere again?”

Mr. Cremble pointed a shaking finger at the table. “It’s underneath the table, out of view,” he whispered, “how did she know?”

“Stand back, Mrs. Right,” Charlie said, “I’ll handle it.”

She could see Charlie dive under the table and then come back up again with the offending cross. For good effect, she staggered back at that moment. She wished to give the impression that while she could not see it, she could feel it come closer.

“I’ll get rid of it, Mrs. Right,” Charlie said in a comfortable tone, as if he were chasing a fly out of the kitchens.

He put it under his livery coat and jogged past her. She fell back in a dramatic retreat.

Mr. Cremble cried, “Does nobody wonder about this?”

Cook, who’d been watching things unfold with his usual brand of equanimity, said, “We wonder about you, Mr. Cremble. If you know a cross hurts the lady’s eyes, why did you go and hide one for?”

“ Why does it hurt her eyes, though?” Mr. Cremble cried. “It was under the table, it was not in view, how could it have hurt anybody’s eyes?”

Cook shrugged. “People got peculiarities, Mr. Cremble. It’s my opinion that a sensible man just works round ’em.”

“Works around a cross burning the housekeeper’s eyes?” Mr. Cremble whispered as if he’d never heard of such an idea. Which, Mrs. Right supposed, nobody ever had.

She pressed her lips tightly together and worked to look exhausted from her recent encounter with a cross.

Charlie had jogged up the stairs and was now well away. Mrs. Right dropped her hand from her eyes and smiled. “There now, that’s better. Well! Tea is on, is it?”

As Mrs. Right strolled to the table as if there were not a thing wrong, Mr. Cremble backed away from it.

He turned on his heel and fled up the stairs.

Mrs. Right presumed he would keep going all the way up to his quarters.

He would take up his bible and search it for clues regarding what ought to be done to fight the devil.

She hoped he found some passage that said: “Get out of the house, Mr. Cremble.”

The only hole in her plan was that it must not go on for too long a time.

She must get Mr. Cremble out of the house before he wrote to his relation, the duke’s vicar in the Dales, about his current circumstances.

It would all fall apart when the vicar wrote back that Mrs. Right was a regular attendee at church, had never complained about her eyes burning, and was in the habit of wearing a small gold cross under her fichu that she often mentioned as having been given to her by her parents.

He might also mention that her father had not died falling off a cart, and her mother had not died of fever. That vicar knew too much about her!

There must be the final push to get Mr. Cremble out the door, though she did not yet know what that would be.

She satisfied herself that it would all come right in the end. Mr. Cremble would be driven out of this house and Lady Marchfield would be forced to find him another place. Then the poor fellow would land in a house that actually wanted a butler.

Mr. Cremble could not know it, but she’d have done him a kindness.

*

Serenity felt as if her life were speeding up in some manner.

There had been so many days in the Dales where not a thing out of the ordinary happened.

She and her sisters would wake, and if the weather was fine, take out their Dales ponies.

Those surefooted horses would fly them across the countryside, nearly always annoying their neighboring farmer and his sheep.

If the weather was raining, they would all cozy up in their father’s library and read whatever took their fancy in front of a fire.

Often, Winsome would read to them all, Verity having invariably talked her into it by claiming her sister had the best voice for it.

Here, in just one morning, the surprises had come rapid fire. First the musk roses from Lord Thorpe. They were so perfect in their meaning, it was just what it ought to be. His note had said: “To the most charming lady at Almack’s.” Even more perfect.

Then, a folded piece of paper had been delivered.

It was from Lord Charles and it was a pencil drawing of his beloved dog, Nero.

The dog was curled in front of a fire and the note said: “As we did speak of my dear departed Nero, I wished to give you an idea of what he looked like.” It really was very kind of him to think of it!

That was not to be all, though. A package had just arrived for her.

As Valor leaned over her shoulder to see what it was, she unwrapped it.

It was a red leather dog collar. On the underside of the collar was an inscription burned into the leather: Nelson, of the Duke of Pelham’s household. Reward or law.

Lord Thorpe had enclosed a note with it. “Lady Serenity, I have often worried that Havoc would be lost or taken, and he wears a similar collar to hasten his return to my house.”

That gift really had affected her the most. She had so often worried that someone might take Nelson.

He was unique and wonderful and who could see him without feeling it?

When she’d found him at the inn, she’d prayed he did not have an owner as she desperately wished him for herself.

Might not another person come along feeling just the same, but without the scruples to find out if he was owned?

Those early days had set the habit of him sleeping in her room under the guise that he would cry all night if he were left alone in the kitchens.

The truth was, she would have cried all night, worrying over whether he was still there or not.

Valor looked it over. “Oh I see, if Nelson ever got lost, people would know where to bring him back to. What’s the reward? I hope it is significant.”

Serenity brushed tears off her cheeks. “It doesn’t specify, but of course it must be handsome.”

“Maybe I should get Mrs. Wendover a collar of red leather too,” Valor said pensively. “Nelson keeps getting her lost—I have not seen her in days and he will not show me where he put her.”

Serenity smiled. Nelson was indeed entranced with Valor’s raggedy stuffed rabbit. He was forever making off with her.

Just then, Thomas opened the drawing room doors. “Lady Felicity and Lady Grace,” he said.

Two of her elder sisters came into the room, followed by a lady in a starched uniform.

Felicity carried her baby in her arms and Grace struggled to hold on to young Miles Delatore, who speedily got away from her.

He ran to Serenity and Valor on the sofa, much changed and much steadier on his feet. “Aunts!” he said. “Which ones?”

Serenity laughed. It had been a year since they had seen the young man and he could not be expected to remember who was who. “I am your Aunt Serenity and this is your Aunt Valor.”

“Grace sent me a note that we ought to surprise you and we all piled into the carriage together,” Felicity said. She looked round the drawing room, noting the flowers and the brown paper strewn on the table. “Goodness, what’s happened here?”

“I’m going to be all alone, is what’s happened,” Valor said.

Young Miles seemed struck by this. “I’ll be your friend,” he said, taking Valor’s hand.

“Thank you,” Valor said gravely. “I’ll need all the friends I can get, as I will be very alone.”

“Should we suspect the flowers are from a gentleman, then?” Felicity said, sitting down with her wriggly baby.

Serenity nodded, leaning over to have a look at Miss Isabelle Stratton.

She was a pretty little thing and was just at that stage that could not be named.

She was less a baby, but not yet a toddler.

Eyes alert and taking everything in, not content to stay in her mother’s arms, not yet ready to make experiments in walking, and not yet accomplished in talking.

Isabelle grabbed at Serenity’s finger and pulled it toward her mouth.

That was another area that would change in time, but as of yet, everything might be food and should be tried out.

“Nurse Green,” Felicity said, “Perhaps take Isabelle down to the servants’ hall, as they will all wish to see her.”

The nurse nodded and Isabelle was whisked away to entertain or harass the servants, however the case might turn out to be.

Winsome and Verity burst into the room. “Felicity! Grace!” they cried. “We’ve just seen Isabelle, she is grown. And here is Miles.”

“More aunts?” Miles said, his brow wrinkling. It seemed he’d lost track of precisely how many aunts he had.

“Aunt Verity and Aunt Winsome,” Grace said, for her son’s elucidation. “Now I wonder, Miles does so like to see a stable.”

“Horses!” Miles shouted to confirm the idea.

“And he has only ever seen my own Dales pony,” Grace went on. “He’s been so keen on seeing more.”

“Ponies!” Miles shouted.

“Oh, let’s do take him to see the stables,” Winsome said.

“Come, Miles,” Verity said.

“I’m coming too,” Valor said. “If he gets scared, I can tell him of all the times I’ve been scared. It’s less scary to know that other people are scared.”

With that, the circus of young people left the drawing room to hinder the grooms in whatever work they were trying to get done.

Charlie brought in a tea tray. Serenity poured, as Felicity and Grace were guests now. “I did not know you had a nurse that followed you everywhere, Felicity. I supposed you had one at home, but does she come with you whenever you go out?”

Felicity laughed. “There are three of them, in fact. At first, I resisted such a setup. After all, how much trouble could one little baby be? Stratton was so insistent though, and I have come to the conclusion that he was right. With each passing day, she becomes a little bit more of an adorable trouble.”

“Wait until she’s up on her feet,” Grace said. “Take the time now to remove everything you value and store it in the attics. Miles gets away from his nurse more than you might imagine, and instantly races to whatever is the most breakable in his reach.”

Serenity laughed, as she’d seen young Miles at his worst the year before. If there were a thing to be broken, he would find it and break it. And then cry because he broke it.

“Enough about us two married ladies,” Felicity said. “You’ve been to Almack’s and flowers have arrived, and what else is here?”

“The flowers are from Lord Thorpe,” Serenity said. “He lives two doors down and I saw him in the window the night it was snowing. Also, he’s sent this collar for Nelson, which is really very thoughtful.”

Just then, Nelson came bounding in with his usual three-legged lope. He came to a halt and looked round, wagging his tail. Then he turned round and ran out again.

“He will have been sleeping on my bed and has heard the sounds of children in the house,” Serenity said.

“This is from Lord Thorpe,” Felicity said, admiring the collar. “The marquess?”

“The reserved marquess?” Grace asked.

“Goodness, everybody keeps saying he’s reserved and, well, I suppose he might be. I do not really know. He is to come to dinner on the morrow with his brother, Lord Charles. Do come too.”

“I would not miss it for the world,” Grace said. “Dashlend will come along too, I am sure.”

“And I will accept for Stratton. I imagine they both are acquainted with Lord Thorpe. If only Patience were in Town, but she and Lord Stanford have been delayed in Brighton. They oversee the renovation of his house there and it has gone on longer than they imagined. She does say she will be on her way as soon as she can.”

Of course, Serenity did feel the absence of a sister. Though, she could not keep her mind on it for long. It kept drifting back to Lord Thorpe.

“He is really something to look at,” Serenity said. “He said he planned to take his dog out walking in the square one day soon. I have looked out the windows sometimes, but I haven’t seen him.”

Felicity and Grace looked at one another. Both of them laughed. “No, you will probably not see him. At least, not until you have gone out to the square yourself,” Felicity said.

“You see?” Grace said, “It was said to excuse the moment when he very coincidentally encounters you walking your own dog.”

Serenity felt rather stupid to have failed to comprehend it, if it were true.

“What do we wait for?” Felicity said. “The children, and Nelson of course, require taking the air.”

“Nelson can wear his lovely new collar,” Grace said.

As they rose, Felicity said, “By the by, Winsome wrote me that our aunt has installed another butler, but we have not seen hide nor hair of him.”

Serenity nodded. “Mr. Cremble. He seems to be spending most of his time closeted in his room with a bible. He thinks Mrs. Right is in league with the devil.”

Both of her sisters nodded, as they were both well-used to the dear housekeeper’s interesting gambits with any incoming butler.