LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER THREE

      IT HAD BEEN a decidedly odd journey to London, with Darby leading the way in his curricle, followed by his traveling coach containing Mrs. Boxer, his new ward and—Good God, how had he forgotten?—Norton, dressed in his best clothes and visibly eager to visit with his chums at the Crown and Cock.

      He would have enjoyed being privileged to overhear any conversation transpiring within the coach during the hour-long drive.

      It certainly had been interesting when Mrs. Boxer and his ward—Marley, he really should think of her by name—had stepped out of the house to see Norton holding open the door to the coach and the latter had immediately inquired as to the valet’s odd hair coloring.

      “Sadie, why is that man’s hair red if his beard is black? Remember when we found that baby woodpecker that had fallen out of a tree and the top of his head looked as if he was wearing a red cap, but the rest of him was black and white, and you said that was because he was a baby woodpecker and—”

      “Marley, shhh.”

      “But his hair is red and his beard is black.”

      “I heard you the first time. ‘Shhh’ means to stop talking. And I would imagine it’s because he prefers it that way.”

      “You mean he did it on purpose? Like the vicar’s wife when she painted her hair orange, and wouldn’t take off her bonnet for six whole months? Why would he do that?”

      “I’m certain that’s no business of ours, just as I told you it was no concern of yours just before you asked Mrs. Thompson that same question before vespers.”

      “But he looks silly. Shouldn’t we tell him?”

      “I believe you already have. Lower your voice.”

      “I think I like the red better than the black.”

      “An opinion you will keep to yourself.”

      “I don’t understand why people can’t ask questions. If someone doesn’t want questions, someone shouldn’t paint his hair. That’s what I think. Sadie, what do you think?”

      “I wouldn’t dare tell you,” Mrs. Boxer had said, taking her niece’s hand as they made their way down the marble steps to the drive, and the waiting Norton.

      Who had smiled quite genuinely at Marley and tipped his hat before offering to lift her up and into the coach, already having launched into an explanation about his black mustache and beard.

      Mrs. Boxer had turned her head to encounter Darby standing there, still doing his utmost not to laugh, and she’d shot him a smile clearly meant to imply that children were such a treat, weren’t they?

      At that moment he had very nearly changed his mind about choosing his curricle over his coach. But he had too much to think about as they made their way to Mayfair, and clearly Mrs. Boxer would prove a distraction.

      And now they were here, having dropped Norton at the Crown and Cock as promised, probably not more than three hours after his hastily scribbled appeal to the Duchess of Cranbrook had arrived in Grosvenor Square.

      Vivien, darling lady, my ward has arrived at last, and trouble travels with her in the form of her aunt, who appears too nervous by half and, I believe, is not being entirely truthful with me for reasons I’ve yet to discern. In any event, they cannot stay with me in my bachelor residence, nor can I leave them at the cottage since I refuse to remain there while everyone else is kicking up their heels in Mayfair. In my desperation, I am bringing them to you yet today, falling on your mercy and that of my friends.

      To compensate for any inconvenience, I feel certain you’ll all find much to amuse you in my dilemma, one most probably made more pronounced by the fact that the aunt is also quite beautiful, something I’m doing my utmost to disregard, at least for now.

      As he tossed the reins to one of the duke’s grooms and hopped down to the flagway, he pretended not to notice the draperies twitching in three of the long windows facing the street. He could count on Gabe’s duchess aunt to be peeking from behind one of them, Rigby’s Clarice from the second, and could only hope Coop’s mother didn’t make up the remainder of the trio. But since he couldn’t think of a worse combination—as far as his sanity was concerned—he made a silent wager with himself that he was correct.

      He waved a footman away and opened the door of the coach himself, smiling into the interior to ask if the ladies had enjoyed their coach ride.

      His answer came from Marley, who launched herself at him, so that he was forced to catch hold of her or else she’d fall to the flagway. “Here now, is that any way for a lady to exit a coach?”

      “I suppose there are others,” the child answered matter-of-factly, her arms wrapped around his neck, definitely putting paid to his carefully tied neck cloth, her legs scissored around his waist. Oddly, rather than being annoyed, he somewhat enjoyed her enthusiasm. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Uncle Nailbourne. That was quite the most pleasant coach ride I have ever had. Norton pointed out all the sights, and even promised to take me to the park to

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