“No, but I haven’t fished there in many years.”
“How long have you lived here?” Frances asked.
“Since before you were born.”
“Why haven’t I ever been here? Why did you never come to visit Mama and me in London?”
Rory hadn’t been prepared for these questions. He hadn’t thought how he might broach the topic of the break in his marriage with Frances, much less how to explain such a thing to a child.
“Goodness, but those are a lot of questions,” Miss Brooking said. “It’s time for dessert, and that means sweet conversation to complement the food.”
“What is sweet conversation?” Frances asked. Rory wanted to know as well, but he would have accepted any change of topic that saved him from discussing his failed marriage with his seven-year-old.
“Something light and fun,” Miss Brooking explained. “How about a game?”
Frances clapped her hands as the footmen removed the course and brought dessert. “What game?”
“I’ll call out a letter, and everyone must say an animal that begins with that letter until we can’t think of any more. Then it’s another person’s turn to choose a letter. Are you ready?” She looked at Frances, who nodded eagerly, and then at Rory, who spread his hands in surrender. What choice did he have at this point?
“The letter is H.”
“Hound,” Frances said.
“Hare,” Rory said.
“Hog,” Miss Brooking added. “Your turn, Frances.”
“Er…” The girl looked at Miss Brooking, who made a sound like aneighunder her breath.
“No cheating!” Rory said.
“Horse!” Frances answered.
“Hedgehog,” Rory added.
“Hen.”
Frances looked at her governess. “What was that animal you showed me in the book, Miss Genevieve? The big one that lives in the water in Africa?”
“Oh, a hippopotamus?”
“That one!”
Miss Brooking raised her brows. “Your turn, my lord.”
He couldn’t think of any more animals whose named began with H. And he didn’t even care if he lost the game. He hadn’t had this much fun since…since the last time he was with his friends Henry and King. They played a few more times, ate a delicious serving of baked apples, and then Miss Brooking declared it was time for Frances to prepare for bed.
“Aww!” Frances said. “I don’t want to go to bed.”
“I never met a child whodidwant to go to bed,” Miss Brooking said, rising. “Up you go.”
Rory stood too and felt his hands shake as he reached into his waistcoat. He’d had an idea just before dinner, and he’d been going back and forth in his mind all evening as to whether to see it through. This was his last chance. He grasped the handkerchief and pulled it out, willing his hand to cease trembling. “Before you go,” Rory said. “I wanted to give you this.” He held out the handkerchief.
Frances looked at Miss Brooking, who nodded. The girl stepped forward and took the handkerchief. “Thank you.”
“I wanted you to have something of mine as well as your mother’s.”
Frances put the handkerchief to her nose. “It smells like you, Papa,” she said.
