“I’ve written to Aunt Agatha.”
Galbraith’s brows rose. “You mean Lady Salter? That old tartar? Good move. She’ll knock the nonsense out of them. Knocks the nonsense out of everyone, your aunt Agatha.”
Cal swirled his cognac, gazing balefully into the firelight reflected in its smooth golden depths. “I don’t know. Rose will give her a pretty good run for her money, I’ll wager.”
“And the other one? What’s her name? Lucy?”
“Lily. Yes, she’ll probably eat Lily alive.” He frowned, imagining little Lily faced with Aunt Agatha. Then he shook his head. “But I can’t help that. I can’t lock them in their bedchambers, and I can’t and won’t let them wander the streets at night. Good God, Ned, anything could happen to them.”
“What about a governess?” Galbraith suggested after a moment. “Sort of governess-companion-chaperone type of female. With a bit of watchdog thrown in.”
“You mean a wardress,” Cal said gloomily. “But it’s too late. I’ve already sent for Aunt Agatha.”
Galbraith snorted. “Same thing, isn’t it?”
The two men sipped their brandy and stared into the flames. The fire crackled and hissed.
Cal drained his glass and stood. “It’s late. I’d better get going.”
***
It was cold as Cal walked back to his aunt’s house, the chill from the surrounding hills sliding down to pool and gather in the town. The scent of coal and wood fires thickened the faint mist. His footsteps echoed in the night silence. The streets were deserted.
Galbraith’s reaction had made Cal thoughtful. Had he been a little premature in sending for Aunt Agatha? She wasn’t a monster, just strict and a little intimidating. It was mostly men who were terrified of her. Particularly men related to her.
Aunt Dottie, her younger sister, wasn’t the least bit intimidated by her, and as far as he could tell from the letters that Aunt Dottie sent with the socks, Aunt Agatha led a very social life and had plenty of friends.
It had always puzzled him: Aunt Dottie, sweet-natured, gentle and affectionate, had never married, and yet her sister, sharp-tongued and formidable, had married three times.
To men who had died not long afterward, he reminded himself.
Had he overreacted in writing to her? The last couple of days with the girls hadn’t been too bad—if he didn’t count Rose’s occasional snipes. They hadn’t sneaked out or misbehaved in any serious way. As he’d thought on first acquaintance, they just needed a firm hand.
But he had no intention of hanging around indefinitely to provide it. He had a job to do that was a damn sight more important than playing watchdog to a pair of young hoydens.
Maybe Aunt Agatha had mellowed.
He turned the corner into Aunt Dottie’s street and squinted against the darkness. Three cloaked female figures were approaching the house from the other direction. Two walked with arms around each other, subdued and downcast. The third figure, a taller female, looked as though she was shepherding them along.
A trickle of foreboding slid down his spine. He strode forward.
A lamp outside his aunt’s house gave faint illumination to the scene. “What the devil are you two doing outside? I gave strict orders—” He broke off, looking closer. “What the hell happened to you?” he said in quite a different voice.
Rose had a burgeoning black eye, and Lily—the side of Lily’s face was red and swelling. Even in the poor light he could see it was going to be a nasty bruise. A cold rage filled him. “Who did this to you?”
The tall female with them reached past him and rang the doorbell. It jangled in the dark house. “There was some trouble at the talk.”
He swung around and saw it was that teacher, Miss Something-or-other. With the mouth. And the eyes. “What talk?”
“By members of the Female Reform Society.”
The Female Reform Society?Politics?Rose and Lily? He didn’t believe it. “Youtook them there? Without so much as a—”
“She didn’t know we were there,” Rose said swiftly. “We went by ourselves.”
The door behind him opened and Logan stood there, blinking. Golden light spilled out from inside, illuminating the girls’ injuries more clearly. Rose’s eye was swollen almost shut and darkening by the second, and her smooth, soft complexion was abraded in places. The side of Lily’s face was dark and swelling and her soft, vulnerable mouth had blood on it from a split lip.
The girls flinched at Cal’s expression. “A man was bothering Lily—” Rose began.
