“Believe me, I am very aware of it, and very grateful to Grandmama for leaving me the house in her will. Now, shall we seek out your daughters and Lucy?”
“Yes, of course.” He presented his arm, and after a brief hesitation, Alice placed her hand on it. It was warm and strong, and she tried not to be aware of it.
They walked the various pathways, looking for the children, but there was no sign of them. “They can’t wander off,” Alice assured him. “The garden is very secure, and the only exits are through the private houses that enclose the garden. And Lucy is with them.”
He smiled down at her. “I’m not worried. I’m enjoying our time together.”
They rounded a corner and saw a small figure standing alone beneath a large, spreading plane tree, staring up apparently talking to the tree. “That’s Lina.” Lord Tarrant picked up his pace. “What’s she doing on her own?”
They hurried up to her. “Lina, what’s the matter?” he said. The little girl turned, her face distraught. “I’m s-s-sorry, Papa,” she said. “I t-t-tried.” She burst into tears.
Without hesitation her father scooped her up into his arms. Lina clung to him, sobbing and trying to explain in jerky, incoherent phrases. Murmuring soothing reassurances, he held her, smoothing back her hair and rubbing her back while the little girl sobbed herself out.
The sobs slowed, but remnants kept coming in jerky bursts. Lord Tarrant pulled out a handkerchief and dried her face. “Now, do you think you can tell me what has upset you so?”
“I t-tried to s-stop them... but D-Debo... the cat...” She clung to his neck like a little limpet. “P-p-lease don’t send us awaaaay, Papa. We’re not hy-hydons. Truly we’re not.”
“Hydens?” Alice wondered. She glanced up into the tree and saw three faces looking worriedly down. Four faces, actually—Lucy’s, Judy’s and little Deborah’s, and in her arms, a furry-faced ginger cat.
Over the shoulder of his sobbing daughter, Lord Tarrant glanced at Alice, sending her a silent message of apology. She directed her glance upward, and he followed her gaze, closed his eyes briefly and nodded in understanding.
“Hush now, Lina,” he murmured, his voice deep and reassuring. “Of course I’m not going to send you away. I’ve just got you back.”
“P-p-promise?” Lina choked. “Even if we’re h-hydens?”
“Even if you’re hoydens, I promise.” Lord Tarrant dried the fresh burst of tears. “Now stop crying and listen to me, Lina.” He took her chin in his hand and made her look at him.
She inhaled a jagged breath and eyed him with wide, tear-drenched eyes, her mouth trembling.
In a clear, firm voice, audible to the listeners in the trees, he said, “Selina Louise Tarrant, I hereby promise you thatI willneversend you or your sisters away, no matter what you’ve done. Do you understand me?”
The little girl nodded.
“Good. Now, I suppose all this upset is because your sisters—and Miss Bamber—climbed this tree.”
Lina nodded. “It’s very unladylike. Only the veriest hydens climb trees—hydens are very bad girls. And before, when Grandmama caught us...”
“I know, you were sent away to school,” her father said. Alice’s brows shot up. Lord Tarrant nodded in grim acknowledgement. “But that’s never going to happen again.”
He looked up at the other three girls in the tree. “Let me guess, that cat was up the tree.”
Debo nodded and clutched the cat tighter. “He was lonely.”
“More like trying to escape my little monster,” Lord Tarrant murmured to Alice. “And you others followed?”
“It’s my fault, Lord Tarrant,” Lucy called down. “I encouraged the girls to climb the tree. I often sit up here to read. It’s very peaceful. I didn’t realize it was forbidden. I’m sorry. Please don’t blame the girls.”
“It’s very unladylike,” Lina repeated, parrotlike. “Isn’t it, Lady Charlton?”
Lord Tarrant turned to Alice, his eyes glinting with humor. “Well, is it, Lady Charlton?” Alice looked from him to the tear-stained child in his arms.
“Some people might think so, but I think it’s perfectly acceptable for young ladies to climb trees, especially in the privacy of their own garden,” she said firmly.
“Or a friend’s garden,” Lord Tarrant prompted.
“Or a friend’s garden,” she agreed.
“And it’s not hydenish?” Lina breathed.
