Chapter One
Lynton Grange
Devon, England
August 1817
“My children aregone?” Connor Fieldstone, sixth Duke of Lynton, had just arrived home and was given no time to dismount before the fourth nanny he had engaged in as many months approached him with her bags packed and a letter of resignation in hand. “Nanny Fuller, what do you mean when you say that my children are gone?”
“They are gone. G-O-N-E, as in gone. Fled their rooms, Your Grace. The little savages are your problem now. I am tendering my resignation effective immediately. Good luck finding them.” She stuffed the resignation letter in his hand, and then climbed into a waiting wagon that would take her to the nearest coaching station.
Connor dismounted and went in search of his mother, the dowager Duchess of Lynton. Where was she? Gone too?
“She is shopping in town,” his head butler said, not looking very perturbed, since the children managed to run away at least twice a week and always miraculously returned in time for their suppertime pudding.
“Thank you, Brewster. I don’t suppose the children might have accompanied her?”
“No, Your Grace.” He gave a sad shake of his head. “They ran off about an hour after your mother left in your carriage.”
“I see.” The seacoast town of Lynton was one of the prettiest places in all of northern Devon, and Connor’s own estate, Lynton Grange, commanded one of its finest views. Why would anyone ever want to run away from here? Was this not an idyllic place to raise children?
Well, on a bright note, his children had not burned down the family home…yet.
Connor ordered his entire staff to conduct a search of the house from cellar to attic, and all the outbuildings. It stayed light until at least ten o’clock in the evening at this time of year, so he had hours of daylight left to find them. Still, he was worried. His boys were twelve and ten, but his daughter was only eight years old and could not keep up with her brothers.
They had done this often before, but their behavior had gotten worse these past three years since the death of their mother. He had not considered Mary a particularly good mother or wife, but it seemed even an apathetic mother was better than none at all. He supposed this was why his own—the dowager duchess who adored him and drove him mad with her meddling—was now obsessed with finding him a proper wife.
Well, one problem at a time. First, he had to find his children.
No matter how familiar they were by now with Lynton Grange and its surroundings, accidents happened. There were no guarantees they would return home safely after every escapade.
He was about to ride out with one of his hunting dogs to track them through the nearby hills, when he saw his neighbor, the lovely Eden Darrow, coming toward him in her rig. Well, he had no idea why he suddenly thought of her as lovely, for she had wild red hair and wore hideous spectacles that dulled the brilliance of her hazel eyes. Pencils usually poked out of her hairbecause she always carried them and a pad to jot down notes while on her nature studies.
Three smiling faces peered out from behind her, his daughter’s smile the biggest and brightest of all.
“Eden, thank goodness! Where did you find them?” He hurried forward to take his children in his arms.
“Papa! We missed you,” the youngest cried, wrapping her little arms around his neck as he lifted her and hugged her fiercely.
“Priscilla, you had me so worried.” He kissed her pudgy cheeks with heartfelt relief.
“We’re sorry,” the eldest, his namesake Connor, said as he stepped down from the carriage and joined Priscilla in hugging him.
“We were about to come back,” Alex, his middle child, sought to assure him as he burrowed between his siblings for a hug as well. “But it was a long walk, and Priscilla got tired.”
“Then Eden found us and gave us a ride,” his eldest added.
Connor felt a mix of relief and anger, wanting to hug the daylights out of his children, and at the same time spank them and send them off to bed without their pudding.
Eden watched quietly from her perch while they engaged in their joyous family reunion. “They were by the cliffs overlooking the beach. It is too dangerous for them to be playing there without adult supervision. I happened to be sketching goshawks when I saw them trying to steal an egg from one of the nests. So I brought them home with me and fed them biscuits and hot cocoa before returning them to Lynton Grange.” She glanced around. “Where is Nanny Fuller?”
“Gone. G-O-N-E. Gone,” he said, repeating the latest nanny’s words as she left.
His children cheered. Gad, they were little terrors.
But Connor was sincerely grateful to Eden for her care of them. “Stay for supper, won’t you? I’ll escort you home afterward.”
The children erupted in pleas for her to stay.
