“You’ve asked them all, have you?”
His dazzling smile was the sort only a true dandy could produce. “I’ve asked the ones who matter.”
She laughed. Oh, Mr. Layton was a delight.
Charlie held out a hand to her. “Come join in the games, Artie. The family name needs defending, and you are just the person to do it.”
She liked that answer very much indeed. “You will remember from our long-ago game of lawn bowls that I take competition very seriously indeed,” she warned him lightheartedly.
One corner of his mouth tipped up. If not for their difficult history and equally difficult present, she’d have described the expression as flirtatious. “Why do you think I’ve asked you to be onmyteam?”
She set her hand in his, still outstretched toward her, and rose. He didn’t drop her hand, as she’d assumed he would, once she was standing but walked at her side, with her hand in his, their arms swinging between them like two old friends.
Charlie’s show of happy friendship was calming and reassuring. It may not have been the adoration and fervor she’d let herself imagine over the years, but there was something so steady in it. She was not hiding herself behind her shield of theatricality, and yet, he seemed pleased to be with her.
“Do many gentlemen take such delight in time spent with children?” Artemis asked.
“In this family, yes.” He looked over at her with a flush of embarrassment. “That likely makes us seem rather pitiful.”
She shook her head. “If more people were kind to children, were willing to make certain little ones knew they had value and were loved, what a difference that would make.”
He raised their clasped hands to his lips and kissed her fingers. “I am sorry your father did not make certain you knew that.”
Artemis leaned her head against him. Father had neglected her in every conceivable way. But Papa, her beloved, darling, elusive Papa, had given her reason to hope. He was out there, somewhere. Perhaps somewhere nearby.
How tempting it was to tell Charlie of her suspicions regarding Mr. Layton. But, then, Charlie didn’t know about Papa. No one did.
They reached the portrait gallery. All the Jonquil grandchildren were there, except for Edmund, the oldest at ten and likely feeling himself too old to indulge in games with the youngest of his cousins, and Stanley and Marjie’s little one, who had not yet arrived at Lampton Park. It was quite a gathering. They all looked over at the door, and their eyes lit. A chorus of “Uncle Charlie!” filled the high-ceilinged room. There could be no doubt they adored their youngest uncle.
“I’ve brought your aunt Artemis to join the fun,” he said. “She is an excellent game player.”
The children cheered and called the two of them over, begging for the festivities to begin.
Charlie pulled Artemis directly to the center of them all, where they sat on the floor in front of them.
“Have you decided on an object to hide?” he asked the group.
Caroline took the lead, something Artemis suspected was a well-established dynamic. “This carved horse.” She held out a small, well-crafted toy.
“Excellent choice,” Artemis said. “It’s large enough for the littlest seekers to spot without being so large that it would be difficult to hide.”
“I picked it.” Oh, how well Artemis knew the look of hesitant hope on the little girl’s face.
“Clever girl,” Artemis said.
Caroline grinned broadly, tender pride surging in her expression. Charlie put an arm around Artemis and gave her a side hug, whispering, “Thank you for that.”
“Who is hiding the horse first?” Caroline asked.
“Perhaps you could help one of the youngest ones,” Charlie suggested. “Aunt Artemis and I will help the others look.”
Caroline chose her two-year-old brother, Henry, to be her partner. He watched his sister with an eager adoration.
Charlie and Artemis gathered the others, nearly all of whom were under three years old, into a clump of childish glee. Alice, one of the older children, at likely five, set herself beside Charlie, watching him, utterly besotted. Artemis held Julia in one arm and the ebony-haired Isabella in the other. Charlie held Kendrick, with little Robert and William tucked up against him.
“No peeking,” Charlie told the lot of them. “Close your eyes.”
Alice did so immediately. None of the others seemed to understand what he was telling them.
