The rains from the day before had left the fields muddy and wet but not impassable. She felt her boot stick several times, but Carlisle easily lifted her up and out of the muck. She rather wished her boot might stick more often.
As they walked, he told her stories of his childhood. How he’d played redcoats and colonists there, or how he’d fallen out of a tree there, or how he and his brother had raced down that hill and his brother fell and broke a toe and Henry thought he was crying wolf and left him.
“That’s awful!” Katie said.
“Oh, he made it back eventually. In any case, Michael has always been made of strong stuff. He’s in the Navy, did you know that? He should make captain before he’s thirty-five.”
She studied Carlisle’s face, which had acquired a bit of color since he’d arrived in Surrey. It looked good on him. Much better than the wan look he had when she’d first met him on the road. “You’re proud of him.”
“He was always the better son,” Carlisle said. “Hard not to be proud of him. He wasn’t expelled from Eton. He didn’t gamble away his allowance. I assume he doesn’t have a curse hanging over his head, either.”
“You’re rather unique in that.”
“Cause to celebrate,” he said drily. “This must be the Robins’s farm. If not, I surrender. I can’t walk any further.”
“It must be. See, the lean-to has fallen over.”
“Must be?” Carlisle glanced at her. “You haven’t been here before?”
She shook her head. “Look, that must be Mrs. Robins.” She waved. The woman who’d emerged from the modest cottage waved back, her eyes wide with surprise. Katie had sent word she would come with the duke to help with repairs, but she didn’t know if the woman or her husband could read.
“My lady.” Mrs. Robins curtseyed. “Your Grace.” She gave a deep bow.
Carlisle stuck out his hand. “Mrs. Robins, a pleasure. Is your husband here?”
“Just inside. I’ll fetch him.” She scurried away, and Carlisle leaned close to Katie’s ear.
“I hope Mr. Robins knows more about building a lean-to than I do.”
The man himself emerged, smiling and calling out greetings. He seemed less ill at ease with the duke, and soon the two men had walked off to take a look at the structure to be repaired. Katie would have gone with them. She could hold ladders or hand the men tools, but Mrs. Robins invited her inside. “The children are so excited to meet you, my lady.”
Katie couldn’t exactly refuse that sort of invitation, so she followed the woman inside, ducking under the low lintel of the doorway. Inside, the cottage was dark but clean. She could smell the sweet scents of lemon polish and fresh bedding. Katie recalled she had told Mrs. Murray the family had seven children. That had been a bit of an exaggeration. Three children, two boys and a girl, sat on a bench in a row. They stood and bowed, or curtseyed, when Katie entered. Mrs. Robins introduced themall to her, then allowed the eldest boy to go out and help the men. The girl poured tea with a shaky hand, and the little boy wandered over to where Katie had taken a seat and reached up to touch the side of her face.
Katie was used to this sort of behavior from children. They were often curious about her birthmark. But when she looked at the boy, she inhaled sharply. What she had not seen at first in the dimness of the interior was that this boy had a birthmark as well. It was very like her own in color, but began on the bridge of his nose and extended down onto his cheek.
“Walter, hands to yourself,” Mrs. Robins said.
But Katie grabbed the little boy’s hand and pressed it to her face. “It’s all right. He’s just curious. And I can see why.” She touched his face gently. He was about four, and his cheeks still had the plumpness of babyhood. “You have a special mark too,” she said.
He nodded. “Does it hurt?”
She smiled. “No. Does yours?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Don’t like it.”
“I don’t like mine either sometimes. People say unkind things to me.”
He nodded, and tears filled his eyes.
“Do you know what I have come to realize? It’s not what you look like here that matters.” She touched his cheek. “It’s what you’re like in here.” She touched his chest. “Are you a good boy?”
He nodded eagerly.
“Then that’s all that matters. You can ignore what people say. Now, do you want to help the duke and your papa build that lean-to?”
“Yes! Can I, Mama?”
Mrs. Robins looked dubious.
