Page 32 of His One and Only Lady

Still in her nightgown, Bernadine squealed in delight and launched herself at Purity. “I’m so happy!”

Laughing, Purity lifted the little girl. “Let’s get you dressed, shall we?”

“Can we see the puppies this morning?” Bernadine asked as she wiggled out of her night gown behind a strategically placed screen. In the process of pulling a stocking on, she implored, “Pl-ee-ase, Purty?”

“You must call me Miss Mayfield now, Miss Bernadine,” Purity gently instructed as she lowered a pretty ruffled pink gown over the child’s vibrant curls.

Bernadine titled her head, her green eyes bright with intelligence. “Cause you’re my governess now?”

“Yes, dear.”

Dutifully presenting her back for Purity to fasten her frock, Bernadine mumbled, “Grown-up rules are silly.”

Yes. Yes, they often were.

“You didn’t answer me ’bout the daldamayshins,” Bernadine said, sliding her little feet into her shoes.

Purity couldn’t help but smile as she led Bernadine behind the screen. “Yes, you may see the puppies after breakfast.”

“I want to see puppies too,” declared a handsome little chap with a shock of red hair even brighter than Bernadine’s gingery locks.

“Me too,” and “I want to see them,” echoed throughout the nursery.

Purity held up a staying hand.

“Everyone must get dressed and eat breakfast first. Then, if your nursemaids and governesses agree, we can have an outing to the stables to visit the puppies. But only if you promise to be very quiet and well behaved. We don’t want to scare the babies or upset their mama, do we?”

Little heads with earnest gazes shook back and forth.

Hopefully, Purity wasn’t overstepping the bounds by agreeing to take the children to the stables without seeking permission first.

“Come on then.” A cheerful maid with an Irish accent herded two tow-headed chaps toward their beds. “The sooner you are dressed and have eaten, the sooner we can be off to the stables.”

Purity hoped they wouldn’t encounter Mr. Rutland. Though grateful for his intervention last night, he was the most irreverent man she’d ever encountered, and he stirred things in her that were better left dormant. She needed to get a firm grip on her riotous emotions before facing him again.

Ronan Brockman suggested if you have the room, plant corn and potatoes as they are consumable by humans and livestock. True, they are not as popular here as in America, but that might give you an edge on the market.

Forgive me for the curtness and shortness of this missive.

I foolishly hired a female scrivener after losing a bet. Faith Roth is determined to make my life purgatory. I confess she is a capable amanuensis but does not know how to keep her opinions and suggestions to herself. I’ve never been tempted to muzzle a female before, but so help me, God, I may invent a sticky ribbon of some sort that permits me to temporarily seal her mouth shut.

~Constantine, Lord Kellinggrave,

in a note to his friend, Theran Rutland

Still in Mottford Hall’s foyer

“I’ll meet you at the lake at half-past ten.” With a wave to his friends, Theran fell in step with his uncle.

“Heard there was a bit more dramatics last night, my boy.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Theran met his uncle’s merry gaze. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“House parties never used to be so complicated.” Pulling his ear, Uncle Herbert made a sound in his throat. “Melvelia adores hosting, though. Cannot deny her the enjoyment.”

Because Aunt Melvelia had a generous nature and a big heart.

Their boots clacked in unison as they walked the remainder of the way in companionable silence. A few moments later, they entered Aunt Melvelia’s private salon.