Page 67 of Brave New Earl (The Way to a Lord's Heart 1)

“That’s not a very good story,” Geoffrey said.

“Not much action was there? I’ll do better next time.”

The boy shrugged.

The door of the nursery opened, and Lord Furness walked in. At once, the room felt smaller to Jean; the air seemed to crackle with energy. He fixed her with a penetrating stare, as if no one else was present, and said, “Ah, there you are. It’s a lovely day. I thought we might take a walk in the garden.”

Geoffrey climbed down from the sofa and walked toward him. “There’s frogs in the pond,” he said. “I could show you.”

Benjamin tore his gaze from his lovely, baffling houseguest and looked down. His son looked back at him, blue eyes clear, though a little wary. Benjamin saw the problem at once. The nursery was Geoffrey’s territory. It was logical to conclude that anyone coming here was looking for him. In fact, Benjamin had searched several other parts of the house first. “Frogs,” he repeated.

“There’s baby ones, too,” Geoffrey replied. “They’re called tadpoles. Tom told me.” He made a wriggling motion with his hand.

Benjamin hesitated. He saw doubt begin to creep into his son’s face, quickly replaced by a stoic blankness. He couldn’t tell the boy he’d misunderstood the invitation. “I must have a look at those,” he said. “Have you ever seen a tadpole, Miss Saunders?”

“No.”

“You must come as well then.” Benjamin edged around to cut woman and boy out of the herd filling the nursery.

“I suppose that’s quite all right since Geoffrey is accompanying you,” said Mrs. Thorpe.

He’d thought only of the advantages of her presence when the Wandrells called. Now Benjamin realized there were a number of disadvantages as well. Mrs. Thorpe was another barrier between him and Jean Saunders. His new houseguest smiled at him as if she knew precisely what he was thinking.

“I should fetch my bonnet and—”

“No need. It’s quite warm. We’ll go as we are. You don’t care about a hat, do you, Geoffrey?”

“’Course not.”

No more than he would have as a child, Benjamin thought. Hats were good for nothing but falling off at inopportune moments and earning one a scolding for careless destruction of haberdashery. “Lead on,” he told the boy. He thought of offering Miss Saunders his arm, but settled for chivying her gently toward the stairs. She didn’t seem reluctant. Bemused, yes. That was all right.

It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was warm, punctuated by a few floating clouds. Flowers were in bloom, scenting the air all over the gardens. Bees hummed around them, and birdsong trilled. His grounds held several romantically secluded spots. Benjamin went over them in his mind, plotting various routes.

“The pond’s this way,” Geoffrey said to Miss Saunders.

That was one of them, Benjamin thought. There was a bench. But Geoffrey would be more interested in the muddy verge, he suspected.

A few minutes later, the boy squatted there, water lapping at the toes of his little boots. “There,” he said, pointing. “Tadpoles.” He looked over his shoulder and up at them, triumphant.

Miss Saunders bent beside him. “The things that are all head and tail?”

“That’s it,” said Benjamin. “Frogs start out that way. They develop legs later.”

“There are so many. You’ll be up to your ears in frogs soon.”

“No,” said Geoffrey. “Birds eat ’em. They pick ’em out of the water and swallow them down.” He lifted his chin and made a gulping noise. “They’ve gotten a lot already.”

Miss Saunders nodded.

“Must feel funny in their throats,” Geoffrey added. “Wriggling like that. They die in the bird’s stomach, I reckon.” He looked to his father for confirmation.

“I suppose they do.” Not an image to beguile a young lady. He would take her to the bluebell wood next time, Benjamin decided.

“I wanted to put some in a fishbowl and watch ’em,” Geoffrey went on. “But Tom said they’d likely die.” He glanced up again, as if hoping for a different answer.

“Very true,” said Benjamin. He had no idea whether it was or not, but he knew he didn’t want his house filled with newly mobile frogs.

“Fish are surprisingly fragile,” said Miss Saunders. “I had two goldfish. Not at the same time. They both died.” When her companions gazed at her, she turned her head away.

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